An Early Morning Cram Into Spandex

It's 2:18 am. Yes, I'm annoyed that I'm awake. I had to get up so I could save one of the kid's lives though. I suppose that's worth it. I get asked a-super-lot of questions about adoption. Before the questions though, I get asked if I'm okay talking about the fact that my kids are adopted. I appreciate the sensitivity. I just thought I'd put it on the world-wide-web that, not only do I not mind talking about it, I love talking about it. The nice part about asking me, is that you know you're getting a totally honest answer. And the reply will likely be laced with entirely too many personal details.  I can't help it.

It's something for which I never wanted to be an expert.  I was looking forward to rocking an awesome baby bump and eating whatever I wanted for a year like the rest of ya'll.  One of my big concerns before adopting was whether I would ever really feel like the mom of these tiny humans.  As usual, I over-thought it and freaked myself out.  Psalm 68:6 says,

God sets the lonely in families.

And for those of you who know Him, you know from experience that He is so good to us.  He sets us.  Intentionally.  Thoughtfully.

Joel Schubert.  Paul Alexander.  Joe Thomas.  If you don't know these men you're missing out.  They are not my dads, but as far as this heart is concerned, they pretty much are.  You jokers only have one dad, I have many.  I believe part of why I know the bond between my kids and I is so strong is because the Lord allowed my heart to have a bond to these men.  They love me.  And love makes you family.

My kids are loved by their birth families.  I know they are.  Deeply.  For those of you thinking of adopting, struggle through your fears of birth families. Believe me, they are struggling through their fears of you.  Strive for unity as much as is appropriate.  Bless them whenever possible.  They are grieving a loss.  

Another adoption fear had been that I wouldn't have the mom instinct that the rest of you people have because I'm not also my kid's "tummy mommy."  I've saved the girl child's life on several occasions, however.  I'm talking about she literally would not be alive now if I had not been supernaturally prompted to go to her at the exact moment she needed me.  You can't make that business up.

I am a heavy sleeper.  And sleeping is my favorite.  It's a bad idea to wake me up unless blood is gushing from your body so quickly that you think you'll be dead by the time I wake up on my own. In fact, I didn't wake up with our son hardly ever when he was an infant.  My fantastical husband did.  But danger is a different story.

Now I'm not talking about home invasion danger here.  We're gun people.  I hide under the covers and let my man shoot at that business.

If, however, I hear even the faintest noise indicating the kiddos are in a type of danger I can solve, I put on the Wonder Woman spandex suit (don't try to envision that.  It involves far too much jiggling) and show up in a big way to save lives.

Which brings me around to why I'm up now.  I know.  You thought I would never get here.  So I was snoozing away, loving every second of it, when I heard a small one in respiratory distress.  Little gasps of breath coming far too slowly.  I flew out of bed, full of adrenaline, ready to Heimlich and CPR the heck out of someone. Probably simultaneously. Even though that's impossible.

But as it turns out, sometimes my husband's nose just whistles a bit when he sleeps...

Now you're as annoyed as I am.  Have a super day.