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15 September 2008

I have some friends who are eagerly anticipating the births of grandchildren in September. I can understand their feelings because I remember the long wait before each one of my grandsons was born. I remember how excited we all were and how much time we spent planning for that sweet birthday. My girls insisted that they didn’t want to know the baby’s sex so we were all taking bets on whether they were carrying boys or girls. Heather gave us our first grandchild, a beautiful boy. Bradi presented us with another chubby cheeked boy only 7 weeks later. Then in the next 5 years Heather gave us a dark-haired boy, and a little boy, and great big boy. The oldest is six now, the youngest is one and we adore every unique and amazing one of them.

We only had the two girls in our family and I still remember the wonderful days of waiting to meet them. I have a few memories of the crummy parts of the pregnancies but the overriding memory is always the fun, the expectation and the joy. I remember the differences in the two pregnancies which we all thought were indicators of two different sexes. Turns out they were the differences between two wildly different personalities of two remarkably different girls.

If you read my journals you might know that I’m addicted to babies so it might not surprise you to hear that the babies in my immediate family are just a few of the babies in my life. If you don’t count my own family and you don’t credit me for the “mothering” of 6 younger siblings I’ve been temporary Mama to twenty three babies under the age of two. Twenty three babies, boys and girls…blue eyes, brown eyes and liquid black. Babies with soft brown curls and babies with pale peach fuzz and babies as bald as an egg. Almost two dozen precious, wonderful human beings fresh from heaven have lived in my home and in my heart for a time. Some of them belonged to my extended family, some were neighbors and some belonged to good friends but this house has always been a safe and loving home for babies. Some of the babies were here while new Mommies and Daddies were working and they went home with their loving parents each night. But a dozen babies spent every one of their first days on earth in my arms.

When our girls were young teens we became a foster family for newborns. We had prayed for an opportunity to serve our community as a family and when God opened the doors to this unique ministry we were ready. The agency that we worked with provided their clients with interim foster care during the weeks immediately after a baby’s birth. Many birth families took advantage of those days to make hard decisions. Some needed that time to finalize adoption plans. Some needed a few days to determine that they could make a life for their baby in their own home. And some families had made a long distance adoption plan and their babies would need a loving home during the interim while paperwork was finalized and the baby could cross state lines to go home.

My sisters threw me a surprise baby shower when they heard we would be “expecting” again. It had been a long time since we needed baby stuff and I was so grateful for the soft pastel blankets, the incredibly tiny sleepers and fuzzy booties. We shared lots of laughs because I didn’t even “look pregnant” and I felt so much better than I did at my other showers.

It wasn’t long before we got the first call that changed our lives forever. We couldn’t imagine the joy and the tears that awaited us when the case worker would call, “I’m looking at the most beautiful little girl here and her mother is being released today. Can you come?” Sometimes the message would be about “a whopping 9 lb. baby boy who is already taking 3 oz. of formula!” or “the nurses have fallen in love with this little fellow because he has such a quiet, peaceful spirit.” We would scramble to pack a baby bag with tiny clothes and blankets then strap the car seat in. We’d have to stop for a specific brand of infant formula somewhere on the way and the girls would wait in a hospital lobby while Jim and I picked up our precious cargo. On some occasions we would find our friend in a waiting room balancing briefcase and baby. Other days I found myself alone with a birth mother whispering quiet goodbyes to her child. And sometimes we would enter a hospital room filled with anguished family. The room felt like a chapel and in hushed voices the group would gather close to sing and pray and comfort each other. Baby was passed from hand to hand as each person spoke words of blessing. I left each hospital room in tears.

We learned that those first few days set a pattern that can alter the life of a human being. If a tiny infant learns that there is a consistent response to his cries he can bond with his caregiver and if that first bonding experience goes well the baby has the capacity to bond well again. We knew we had to love these babies with abandon, responding to every need and loving each baby as our own. We had to love unreservedly knowing that no baby would stay with us forever. We couldn’t restrain our hearts or withhold our love in anticipation of the pain filled day these babies would leave us.

A dozen babies came home with us during those four life changing years. Our family learned so much about love and loss and pain. Midnight feedings and heart wrenching meetings and the sweet smell of a newborn filled our lives. Some babies lived with us for just a day or two and some stayed for months. Each one was adored and cherished for that precious little space in time. Many of those babies are eighteen now and I like to believe that the days they lived in this circle of love were days that made a difference in their lives. All these years later, I wonder if somewhere down in those infant brains there is a tiny spark that remembers they were here. I know they remember they were loved.