Treasuring it up
My husband was in a tree stand when…
Isn’t that how all good southern stories begin? And in true southern fashion, that’s how our story with Bo began.
Page was sitting in a tree stand hunting at 5:00 in the morning when he happened to check his email. Our social worker had sent us an email at midnight the night before asking us to call her as soon as we could. There was a birth mother situation that she needed us to know about. Long story short – Page called her, got the info, called me, called her back, called me back, we cried, he came home, I cried, one of us felt like we were going to throw up, our book was shown, and then we waited. From 8:00 to 2:30 that Tuesday we waited to hear whether we were chosen. I constantly talked with God. I talked to Him about how I didn’t want to get my hopes up for them to be crushed again. That had happened before and I didn’t foresee myself handling it any better the second time around. I didn’t want fear to ruin the beautiful trust I had fought so hard to reach in my relationship with God. I prayed for peace, and strength, and patience, and all those other good fruits of the spirit. I don’t know if you know this, but 8:30 to 2:30 is a very long time.
At 2:30 our social worker called. The birth mother had chosen us and we could see our sweet baby boy the next afternoon. She also needed a name for the birth certificate as soon as possible. The birthmother wanted us to name him.
She wanted us to name him. I have never felt more honored and humbled.
In a flurry of calls, Facetimes, and texts we told our family and core group. The celebration that followed, I will never forget. Each time we told someone, their joy was palpable and genuine and long awaited. Since then, when things are calm, I replay each one over and over. I think I got a small glimpse of the joy we will have in heaven. So many have been a part of this journey from the very beginning. So many have prayed, and cried, and been frustrated with the wait, and encouraging, and patient. Each person we told, family or no, rejoiced like Bo was their own. To experience true love like that is humbling and empowering and overwhelming in the best kind of way. My daddy, a man of few emotions, screamed like he was at an Auburn game. I mean literally yelled in their garage as we told my parents on speakerphone. I kept trying to give them the details but had to pause because he was yelling. It was beautiful.
In all honesty, our students were probably my most favorite people to tell. Page and I are both high school teachers, and they too, have prayed and waited right alongside us. One of my students said, “We gonna pray that baby into existence Mrs. Clayton” every day when she left my room for the past four months. That kind of faith is what kept me going. Our students jumped in the air hooping and hollering. They ran to hug us. They screamed. They cried. It was amazing. I’m so thankful I was able to capture those precious moments on video. I’m so upset with myself for not recording our parents. I wasn’t thinking clearly then. My memories will just have to suffice.
We had one evening to gather supplies and collect ourselves. Our friends were amazing, helping us purchase what we needed. But that will have to wait for another blog. Wednesday morning we left for the hospital and our world changed forever. For the better.
We were able to meet our sweet boy Wednesday afternoon. He was healthy and beautiful. All around perfect. I know people say this all the time, “I never knew I could love someone this much that I’ve just met!” but it was so true at that moment. If it were physically possible for a heart to literally burst with love and happiness, that would’ve happened to me that Wednesday afternoon in room 215. I wish I could explain that moment to you, but I can’t. I don’t have the words or the emotional capacity to describe what it felt like to watch the nurse wheel him in. To touch his soft cheek for the first time or pick him up. I can’t describe what it felt like to hold that blessing and watch Page kiss his forehead. I can’t do it. And I think that’s a good thing. If I could describe it, it would lose its magnitude in some way. It’s better you attempt to imagine it.
I’ve always loved how Mary responded to certain moments in Jesus’ life. She did it so very opposite of how I think I would’ve responded. In Luke chapter 2, Jesus is missing and after searching for him for three days and finding him after returning to Jerusalem, Mary “treasured up all these things in her heart.” I can’t imagine most parents would react this way. After the initial hugging, some scolding would most assuredly take place. But Mary understood the bigger picture as much as she humanly could. She had plenty of reasons to struggle with treasuring. From the very beginning. It wasn’t an easy task assigned to her. Her child wasn’t a normal child. It wasn’t normal circumstances. And that small part of Mary’s life I completely get. Knowing who her son was, could’ve caused her worry, agony, and fear. I would understand that too. But, instead, she chose to treasure everything. How often when something in our life veers from the norm our knee-jerk reaction is to do everything but treasure. I whine and despair. I worry and fret. I don’t treasure. Going all the way back to Jerusalem and finding your young son teaching in the synagogue isn’t normal. I think of the aggravation of having to search for three days and return back to the beginning of the journey! But she treasured. Because she understood the bigger picture. It wasn’t an inconvenience. It was holy.
I’ve been waiting three years. That isn’t the normal waiting time to give birth. This wait hasn’t been easy or always enjoyable. But I understand the bigger picture. It has been holy in so many ways. And I, too, am treasuring up all these things in my heart. I’m treasuring the rejoicing, the celebrations, the middle of the night feedings, the praise to God, the diapers, the onesies, the happiness, the spit up, the constant washing of clothes, the cuddles, and the love. I’m treasuring it all up because I feel like I’ve waited my whole life for this. I’m treasuring hearing others call me “mama”. I’m treasuring calling Page, “daddy”. He’s had to watch a lot of other men turn into daddies during our season of wait. And let me tell you, he was born for this role. The nurses in the hospital kept apologizing because we were having to spend Thanksgiving in the hospital. We never hesitated to correct them. There was no need to apologize. We were treasuring.
We brought Bo home the following Saturday after a good long stay in the hospital. He transitioned home without a hitch. We all did. There is not one aspect of this process that did not turn out perfectly. Every perfect thing that I dared to let myself dream and pray came about. I prayed for our birthmother almost more than the baby itself. I desperately wanted her to have as much peace as possible. I wanted her to immediately fall in love with us through our profile book. I wanted her to feel as good as possible about giving us this gift. The birth mother that chose us looked at our profile book first and knew from the very beginning we were what she wanted. She even kept our profile book. God wanted me to see without a shadow of a doubt that He was listening all along. He worked out every minute detail to the very best. I may have waited longer than I would’ve liked, but I got the best outcome. The best baby. The best birth mother. And the best scenario imaginable. That is worth waiting for. God is worth waiting for. It has been a full-blown Luke 6:38 blessing, “…Good measure, pressed down, shaken together, running over, will be put into your lap…” I will forever be grateful for this good measure, running-over adventure.
“I will give thanks to the Lord with my whole heart; I will recount all of your wonderful deeds.” Psalm 9:1 was written by a sweet friend on our whiteboard when we got home from the hospital. There has never been a more appropriate verse. I’m typing this blog in a beautiful rocking recliner, that Page’s mother surprised us with, as a I rock my perfect blessing. How long I’ve waited to rock to my own baby.
In true southern fashion, Bo’s first words will be “thank you” because that’s what we say every time we look at him. Mary said it best “My soul magnifies the Lord and my spirit rejoices in God my savior, for he has looked on the humble estate of his servant. For behold, from now on all generations will call me blessed; for he who is mighty has done great things for me, and holy is his name.” Luke 1:47-49
And I’m treasuring it up.
Originally posted December 2018