August

Well, here we are approaching the end of August and I haven't posted since June!  I have to say, I have almost completely put this blog out of my mind (except when my sweet hubby reminds me that I haven't posted in X number of days or asks me if I'm ever going to post again) for the time being.  Now that summer is over, I have high hopes to post more often and get this thing up and going again.  It's been a fabulous summer for a lot of reasons but mostly because we've spent a ton of time with family and dear friends from out of town and a lot less time on social media.  A lot has changed since my last blog post...Rosalyn is finally sitting up, has two teeth, eats solid foods (which she greatly prefers over her beloved bottle), has decided that 5:30am is when she wants to start her day and most importantly, we finalized her adoption at the end of July!  Olivia is changing every day and at some point over the last few months she went from toddler to little girl.  She has truly owned her role as big sister and is literally obsessed with her baby sister.  I love watching the two of them together and love how they are already so bonded.  It truly has been a summer filled with sweet, special memories.

As I sit here and reflect back on the summer of 2014 and all the wonderful things we've gotten to do and see over the last few months, I'm struck at how far I've come.  Since my first miscarriage in January 2012, the month of August (particularly the end) has always been hard.  It's when our little nugget would have been due and it's hard not to think about what life would look like with another toddler running around.  I should be planning a birthday party for an almost two year.  Instead I find myself thinking about what might have been.  I'm not as sad as I used to be and in some ways I feel guilty about that.  When I think back to the day we learned our baby's heart had stopped beating the details of that day are still so fresh.  When I let myself relive that day, I'm overcome with emotion.  While my heart is currently filled with joy, there is a small part that is empty.  A piece of my heart belongs to that baby (and the others we lost) that I'll never know.  It's a strange thing really, grieving a baby you never got to meet.  I had no idea losing this baby would break my heart into a million pieces and cause me to wonder if I'd ever function the same again.  And while my heart has been slowly put back together and I'm a healthy-functioning human being (at times this was up for debate), I do not look at getting pregnant, pregnancy, or life the same.  I've learned a lot of lessons throughout this process (unfortunately, not always the first time around), and I while I wouldn't wish to go through multiple miscarriages, fertility doctors, grieving, etc., I also wouldn't be the person I am today without those as a part of my story.  And of course, we probably wouldn't have adopted when we did, therefore, baby Roz wouldn't be a part of our family.  And I honestly wouldn't have it any other way.  I mean, look at her!  Those lips are to. die. for.

So, while I couldn't be happier with my little family of four and where we are now, I still want to revisit the day of (and those following) the first miscarriage.  Those dark, hardest days of my life.  I think it will be good for me.  And I hope by my opening up my heart and sharing, it will also be beneficial to those reading.  Maybe there is someone out there who is grieving, who feels all alone, and maybe my words in some way can help.  I do think it is crazy how many details of that awful day are still so vivid.  I've tried to forget, tried to block things out of my mind.  But they are there.  And today, the memories came flooding back to me as I sat in the very waiting room, staring at the same picture of the old white house on the wall, waiting to see the same OBGYN.  **Side note: I'm not pregnant...just there for my annual check-up.

It was January 16, 2012.  Our first doctor's appointment!  We had just come off a fun few weeks in Houston celebrating Christmas with family, spent New Year's with our best friends who were in town from London, and had finally come down from all the holiday hoopla.  Life was getting back to normal and we had been waiting for this day since we found out I was pregnant.  After going through my pregnancy with Olivia, I gained an even better understanding of how amazing the whole growing a human thing is and had fallen instantly in love with the little life growing inside of me.  I couldn't wait to see the little thing swimming around on the monitor, and of course, couldn't wait to heart it's tiny heart beating.  Hearing a baby's heartbeat for the first time is one of the sweetest sounds ever.  Truly, it's music to the ears.

My heart needed a changin...

After we had Olivia, we almost instantly were ready for another baby.  The more time that went on with raising her, the greater the desire grew in our hearts for more children.  And we wanted nothing more than to give Little O a sibling.  She was becoming so aware of babies and asking lots of questions about babies, when we were going to have a baby in our family, etc.  Most of her friends had baby brothers or sisters and she was well aware that we did not.  We had been trying to have another baby since just before her first birthday (December 2011) and things were not going according to our plan.  As I mentioned in my first post, a seed was planted long ago on our hearts to one day adopt a child.  We talked about adopting one day but deep down I'm not totally sure we would have ever actually done it if it weren't for the prodding God knew we needed. While I don't believe God wished multiple miscarriages on us, I do believe He used each one to help us get one step closer to adopting.  He helped us see that adoption was the direction He wanted us to go and ultimately, He helped us realize this is what we wanted too.

For some reason, I almost felt like if we started the adoption process and started telling people we were adopting then we were somehow giving up on having more biological children and for a long time that was a hard reality to face.  I didn't want people to think we were adopting because it was our last resort.  And I certainly didn't want our future adopted child/ren to ever think they were a consolation prize.  God had been working on my heart for many months and I had reached the point where I was very excited about growing our family through adoption - I didn't know it at the time, but that feeling is what I'd been waiting for before I could truly get on board with adopting.  We didn't want to adopt just so we could have more children in our family or because it seemed like our only option.  We wanted to be excited and passionate about it.  We wanted it to be our Plan A.  Thank you Lord for allowing my heart to change, for turning it toward adoption and for never giving up on us.

I without-a-doubt believe that Rosalyn was meant to be a part of our family from the beginning.  We needed her and she needed us.  God brought us together in a way that only He could, and I'm daily humbled at the fact that someone else chose us to be Rosalyn's parents.  What an honor.

One goal I hope to to accomplish through this blog is to raise awareness about adoption.  Help others understand that adoption is not only an option but it's a good option.  In just the five months we've had Rosalyn, I've realized how uneducated our culture is regarding adoption.  I get stopped almost every day by people who ask and say all sorts of things.  I've started writing them down and will share on the blog at some point.  I believe most people mean well, they are just not sure what to say or how to react a lot of times.

I've mentioned in a few of my posts that I suffered several miscarriages.  Three to be exact.  I have been thinking a lot about them lately, mostly my first one and feel like it's time to share more of my heart.  It's not a fun or easy topic to talk about but one that I feel should be discussed.  There are a lot (unfortunately) of people out there who are in a dark place because they've walked this road too, and I want them to know they are not alone.  The day we went to the doctor to hear our baby's heartbeat for the first time is the day that changed me forever.  It's the day that rocked my world, knocked me off course, changed the way I see things and sometimes, when the house is completely quiet, memories of that day keep me up at night.

January 16, 2012, is a day I remember all too well...

I'm not in control

I know, I know.  It's been over two months since I last did a blog post, and it's been four months since I first started this blog and have only posted twice.  I fully recognize I have not held up my end of the deal, and I should have totally took my husband's advice and waited to start this thing until I had several posts ready to go ("in the hopper," he says), so I wouldn't leave my readers wondering what in the world happened to me or this blog.  I got ahead of myself, overestimated just how much free time I would have and wanted to go ahead and get this thing going, so I did.  I'm hoping you'll give me a second chance to prove to you that I am serious about this blog and sharing my story.  So, here's to posting more often and getting this story written down (before I forget too many of the details)!

I can't even believe it's been almost four months since we brought our little girl home.  I'm still trying to get her nursery finished!  I don't have much to show for the last four months in terms of scrapbooking her first few months of life, journaling details of our days or what milestones Rosalyn has mastered, or, of course, blogging, but I can say I have spent a lot of time holding and loving on my sweet girls, memorized a few new children's books, wiped off A LOT of chunky, thick baby formula spit-up, and made memories that (for now) will be written in my heart (and/or smeared on my shirt).  And I'm trying to be okay with that.  I often stress myself out because I feel like I'm not documenting enough about my kids or posting enough pictures to Instagram or Facebook, but I am working really hard to focus on making memories rather than capturing faux memories on my phone or camera.  And I have to believe that my girls will appreciate me being present and a part of the memories more than looking through a fancy book.  Don't get me wrong, I still have high hopes to do both but if I have to pick one, I'm going to put the cute paper aside for now.

It's 10:30 p.m. and I just went in to both girls rooms to check on them.  As I left Rosalyn's room, I was overcome with emotion.  My eyes are filled with tears as I'm typing.  I'm just so honored to be their mom, and I'm forever thankful to God for allowing me to help raise them.  I without a doubt believe God handpicked Rosalyn to be a part of our family.  He brought her to us in a way that only He is capable of doing, but I also realize more and more that Olivia was also handpicked to be our oldest daughter; to be Rosalyn's older sister.  I hope and pray that as adoptive parents we will make sure Rosalyn knows her story.  Knows how she came into our family and understands this was God's plan.  I also pray that Olivia will always be proud of her story too.  Though different from Rosalyn's, it is equally special and unique, and I want her to always know that she is part of God's plan too.  My prayer for them as sisters is that they will be each other's best friend, find lots of commonalities, embrace each others differences and show each other unconditional love.  Olivia loved her sister from the moment she laid eyes on her in the hospital.  She is so proud of her, tells people it's "her baby" and every morning when she wakes up asks how Rosalyn did last night and if she slept well.  I can't wait to watch them grow up together and watch as their relationship grows.  There is nothing quite like the relationship between sisters.  What a gift!

Pretty much since the day Olivia was born we started planning for her first sibling.  We wanted (and still do, but have given up trying to control it) lots of kids, close in age; and since Olivia was a pretty easy baby, we thought what's one more right away?!  I was 29 after all, so we needed to have them close together if we were going to squeeze in four kids before turning 35.  There is nothing wrong with having children after turning 35, but in my mind (at the time) that's when I wanted to be done.  And for some reason, I thought I needed to have all my kids close in age; that was just kinda always the plan...wait a while before having kids and live life to the fullest as just the two of us, but once we start, just knock it out.  I had come up with a plan in my head as to what I wanted my family to look like and thought my plan would be what was best for me.  I never planned to have multiple miscarriages.  Never planned to be the last of my friends to have baby #2.  Never thought I'd be the one to have to see a fertility specialist.  I wanted another baby more than anything and I didn't understand why God didn't seem to be on board with my plan.  It was a pretty good plan after all.  I didn't feel like He could hear my prayers and questioned why things weren't happening according to my time frame.  How could anything different be better?  And how could struggles, pain, depression and grief possibly be used to help create a story that is good?  I can honestly say that I've come a long way in the last two years; I've learned a lot (about a lot of things) and grown so much as a person.  I still doubt and question things--this is a journey after all--but surrendering control and letting God be the author of my story has been freeing.

24 hours of wild and crazy JOY!

I will share the back story, journey and details leading up to bringing Rosalyn home with us, but for now I will tell you the story of the 24 hours leading up to meeting our little girl...

On Saturday, December 28, 2013, I woke up to my three year old telling me that her head was itching really bad. We were still in Houston for the Christmas holiday, but were planning on driving back to Dallas at some point that day - we weren't in a hurry to get home but wanted to be back for church the next morning.  The two of us were the only ones awake, so not knowing what I was looking for, did a quick scan through her hair to check for lice.  I didn't see anything, but just to be sure, after the rest of the family woke up I had them check her head and it was confirmed that Olivia indeed had a very bad case of head lice...and apparently I did as well.  Talk about feeling like a terrible mother - how in the world could she have it so bad and I not know?!?  We immediately started treating it with over the counter stuff but let's face it, a three year old can only sit for so long having "a special hair treatment."  

Just as soon as my wonderful sister-in-laws finished digging every last nit out of my hair, I received a call, THE call.  The birth mother (who we had met a few weeks prior and wasn't due until mid-January) was on the phone.  She wanted to know if she was in labor. She had been up all night with contractions and they seemed to be getting closer together.  With Olivia, I had been 9 days late and eventually was induced (and she still took her time), so unfortunately, I wasn't much help to her. Thankfully, my good friend (and cousin by marriage) is a midwife; she talked to the birth mother on the phone and was able to confirm for the birth parents that she was in labor.  It was the early stages of labor, but she still suggested we go ahead and head back to Dallas and they head up to the hospital as this baby was coming in the next 12 hours or so.

As a side note, this is considered an open adoption.  We have contact information for both the birth mother and father and they wanted us to be very involved with the labor, deliver, hospital experience, etc.  Almost all domestic adoptions are open these days, and research has shown that this is best for all parties involved--especially the adopted child.  It might sound a bit odd or scary to some, but after educating ourselves on the topic, reading books, hearing people talk on the subject, we are very comfortable with this idea and in fact, are embracing it.  More posts to come on this topic.  Also, we are fortunate that not only do we know who the birth father is, but he is and has been involved in this adoption process too.  The birth parents are engaged and made the decision to place their baby for adoption together--this is quite rare.  They also wanted us to be as involved with the labor/delivery/hospital experience as were were comfortable with, which was a huge blessing for us that they included us in so much.

Anthony and his dad were in the middle of frying up some chicken wings for a late lunch when we got the call. We scarfed the wings, frantically loaded up our things, decided my mother-in-law should come with us, prayed and cried together as a family, then headed back to Dallas. We were in two separate cars--Anthony and his mom in one, and me and Olivia in the other. All the way back to Dallas, we were all itching, thinking about lice!  We were getting regular updates from the birth parents on her progress, and by the time we made it back to our house, they were checked into the Parkland hospital.  

We unloaded our things, ate a quick bite of food, then headed to the hospital to wait for our baby to be born.  We were very excited but also feeling overwhelmed at the thought of bringing home a newborn since we hadn't had much time to get prepared.  The room wasn't set up, clothes were not washed, and no name had been chosen.  You see, we only found out about this baby a few weeks prior and were expecting a mid-January due date.  The whole thing was a whirlwind. 

   
We arrived at the hospital around 9:30pm, and they were all settled in the room.  The birth mother was progressing a bit quicker than we anticipated, and was already dilated to 6cm by 11:00pm.  Over the next several hours, she progressed smoothly and normally and we got to spend a lot of time just talking with them and relaxing.  We all tried to rest/sleep but we were all too anxious/excited.  We were all ready to get the party started!  They wanted us both to stay in the room for the delivery, which was an incredible honor and very exciting.  At about 3:55am it was time to push and 30 minutes later at 4:25am, our little girl entered the world.  I had never seen a baby be born (like actually witnessed the entrance) until this day, and I am forever blessed by the fact that we can tell her one day we were there for her birth!  Her middle name was always going to be Marie after my mother-in-law's middle name, and after she was born the birth parents helped us finalize her first name, Rosalyn (pronounced Roz-a-lyn).  She's already been given several nicknames like Baby Roz, Rozzle, Rozzie boo...what can I say, this family likes nicknames!

Moments after she was born, the four of us took turns holding her and just admiring the tiny human we had just witnessed enter the world.  Going through this experience with the birth parents and spending the next two days with them in the hospital, has forever bonded us in such a unique and incredible way.  They truly are wonderful people, who loved their daughter enough to give her a life they knew they couldn't give.  We will do our best as Rosalyn's parents to always make sure she knows how much they love her and that they only ever had her best interest in mind.  Only the most self-LESS person could carry a baby in their belly for 9 months, feel it move and kick, give birth to it, then let someone else be their parent because they know that's what is best for their child.  What an amazing gift they have given to us that we will be forever grateful for!

I hope I never forget the feelings and emotions I felt right after she was born.  I couldn't get over how tiny she was (all 5 pounds 6 ounces of her) and couldn't wait to get to know her more.  We fell instantly in love, but also tried to guard our hearts as best we could.  We wanted to be sensitive to the birth parents and their feelings as well as start bonding with our daughter.  The next 48 hours at the hospital were unlike anything I have ever experienced and nothing in life could have prepared us for those moments.  By the grace, love and guidance of God we not only made it through the roller coaster of emotions during those few days, but we thoroughly enjoyed our time with the birth parents.  What a powerful example of His goodness and faithfulness.

Welcome to the world, Rosalyn Marie Shoemaker.  You're an answer to countless prayers and are loved more than you will ever know.

New Year, New Beginnings, New Blog

The time has come to share my story.  I've felt ready for a while but just haven't found the time to get a blog going again.  I want this to be a blog where I can share my thoughts and feelings about two things that aren't always talked about much but have both affected and shaped me in ways I never dreamed - miscarriage and adoption.

When I suffered from my first miscarriage exactly two years ago (almost to the day) I have never felt so alone and afraid in all my life.  I'm ready to share my thoughts and feelings with you in hopes to help someone who might be going through something similar.  I certainly don't have all the answers, but maybe someway, somehow through this blog, I might be able to use my experiences to help someone else.  It's not an easy road and certainly not one to be walked alone.

Adoption has been on my heart and mind for many years.  For as long as I can remember, I have loved kids.  Children tug at my heartstrings, especially kids who are orphans or just down on their luck.  I was fortunate to go on several mission trips in high school and college, met lots of kids in different countries, living very different lives from me, and I believe it was these various trips that began to foster my love for children.  Adoption specifically became something I was very interested in when I was a sophomore in college.  I took a mission trip to Trinidad with other ACU students, and it was here that I know God planted adoption on my heart.  I knew one day my family and I would adopt but had no idea how or when.  Thankfully, my husband was on that same trip and God was working on his heart in similar ways!

So, I've started a new blog, August Rose, to share my story with you. Why the blog title The August Rose?  Honestly, the lack of a title to this blog is one of the main reasons it took so long to get this thing going.  I wanted a title that summed up my story in just a few words and also was a good blog name.  August 24,  2012, is when our first baby lost by miscarriage would have been due.  Rose is the meaning of our newly adopted daughter's name, Rosalyn (pronounced Roz-a-lyn).  Since this will be a place where I share my story of both miscarriage and adoption, I combined the two words to get the blog title.  After all, the two events are forever connected; if it weren't for that first miscarriage in August I wouldn't be holding my 1 month old daughter as I type this post.

I want this blog to be a place where I can be open and honest.  I will share the good, bad and ugly parts.  It hasn't been easy and it's not  how I would have written it, but The Lord has written (and continues to write) a story far better than anything I could have dreamed of.  I hope you'll come along for the ride as I share this journey with you...