It wasn't many days later that I was sitting on a beach over looking the water when God pierced my heart. I knew why I was miserable. I was too selfish to see past my own plans for my life. I knew God planned children for our family.
Our medical challenges started when we wanted to start a family. Having a baby is difficult, uncomfortable, and hard. Making a baby is supposed to be romantic, exciting, and sensual. PLEASE! For three years we took my temperature, timed my body clock, read every ridiculous wives tale about positioning and the placement of the sun, and we kept a detailed calendar. It was frustrating. It was embarrassing. For me, it was ridiculous.
Doctors were stumped. They tested me once a month for months, gave me new prescriptions, new lists of reading material, and assurances that we would get pregnant. NOTHING HAPPENED? They finally tested Le. We almost laughed at our results. We had less than 20% chance of having a baby without serious medical intervention. Throughout our trying to get pregnant, it was obvious that if we ever did, I'd most likely only carry one baby to term. We heard that in itself would be a miracle. Le and I knew what we wanted. A family. Children. More than one. We wanted our child to have siblings. Adoption answered that desire.
I stopped asking God for a baby. I asked God for an answer. We weren't just given the regular IVF speech by our doctors. There would have to be surgical procedures on Le and I. If that didn't work, we would have to discuss eggs and sperm donation and surrogacy. I laughed out loud in the specialist's office. I asked him if he had lost his mind. He tried to smile, but I knew he secretly wanted to slap me. I told him that Le and I wanted a family, not a baby growing in someone else's belly who may be half-mine or half-Le's. It made sense, if he was going to tell me that such a child would be biologically neither Le's nor mine, we would adopt. I thanked the doctor and said, "God's given me an answer. Our baby isn't coming from my womb."
I cried all the way home and most of the next week. I wasn't devastated about the pregnancy, or the lack thereof, I just wanted to mourn this period of my life so that I could look back and say that I gave it the dignity it deserved. I knew the loss from infertility came with issues that required resolve. I mourned. I prayed. I left it at the Cross. I've never looked back.
During months of researching, discussion, and becoming fluent in Adoption Parent lingo, we had discussed and received paperwork from over twenty-five adoption agencies, including DHS here in Oklahoma, international adoption, and domestic adoption. Our families were pushing for a Caucasian, fresh from the womb infant. Le and I were being called a completely different direction.
I contacted an agency on the East coast. The caseworker asked what our parameters were. Parameters? Huh? I told her I had no clue what she meant. She said all prospective parents had a criteria of what was acceptable and what wasn't acceptable in a child for them. I asked her where the largest need existed. Who was the hardest for which to find parents. "Africa. Anywhere in Africa," she replied, "Most white couples don't want to adopt a black baby, and most people want them as young as possible. The percentage of kids adopted who are over 3 years old is less than 3% and the statistics go WAY down for sibling groups." That was it!
I came home and told Le. I had never been one of those women who cooed and coddled other people's babies. It makes me uncomfortable. I thought it was a sign I wasn't supposed to be a mother. Instead, it was the instinct God established in me to parent the exact children HE had for us. (My mom later told me she was that way, too, and it changed when she had the three of us.) We chose our agency and sat down with their 3 page form of what we would accept.
Le will tell you that we fought the most about this stage of the game. He is right! I would have taken a teenager right out of the box. He hesitated. As we prayed about it more, I knew that I would never want to be in the place where I had lost my mom and dad and if I did, I surely wanted my brother and sister beside me. Le agreed. Siblings it was. One year later we were introduced to our 2 year old son, "dinosaur," and his almost 6 year old sister, "princess." I know we didn't grow these children in our womb; but I promise, God grew them in our hearts.
Here I am: Lindsey. Christ follower. Wife. Mother. Lawyer. Advocate. LoPa-ite. Doing my part to change the world one child at a time.
The hero, Lindsey, the princess, and the dinosaur.
