Faith. Family. Friends.

My brain is full of blogs but we’ve been too busy to stop and jot them down. The last several days have been filled with family. Trying to soak up every minute we have with the girls can be exhausting! We spent the weekend at my sister’s (near Wichita) so they could say their goodbyes. My sister and her husband have four children and another on the way. They welcomed the twins as cousins without a second thought. Every opportunity any of them had to hold the girls was argued over. Every bottle was “dibbed” before I even got a chance to feed them. I don’t even think their little legs touched the ground whenever my nieces and nephew were around.

We also spend a lot of time with my other sister’s family (in Topeka). She and her husband have three children. The oldest walks into the room and you can hear Immediate giggles coming from the twins. I have to give my brother in law credit for his constant work with one of the girls to get her to crawl. She was the first of the two to crawl and I think it’s only because he wouldn’t let her give up.

My parents. I can’t say enough about grandma and grandpa. They were the ones getting me out of babysitting jams when I had to work late. They were the ones calling almost daily to check on the girls. When I got the flu, they showed up and towed us to their house so I could sleep while they spoiled the girls. When one of the babies swelled up like a beach ball, they raced to the ER so I wasn’t alone. When the twins got the flu at the same time, they turned their house into a contamination bubble so I didn’t go crazy. They shared my frustration whenever it seemed the system was failing the girls. They shared my tears when I found out the girls would leave my home. They never gave anyone an inkling that these two babies were any less than their own grandchildren. My two favorite things: hearing the girls and their grandpa crack up at each other when I’m in another room; watching the girls raise their arms and scream at the top of their lungs when their grandma walks through the door.

My aunts and uncles, my cousins, and my grandma. They all came to visit the girls. We travelled to visit all of them. We were showered with gifts and love; some gifts were a little less appreciated (all that Iowa State stuff!). Everyone in my family accepted the girls as mine. And theirs.

My friends have gathered around me and shown their acceptance of the girls as my family. They don’t ask me to find a babysitter every weekend. They tell me to “bring them along!” They listen when I need to vent about the recent court decisions. They cry with me. They laugh with me. They sit with me when I feel confused and broken. I have to give my friends credit for encouraging baby number two to crawl. And the sheer excitement and cheers that broke out in the room when she finally moved those little legs! My friends know when to call and or when to just let me be. They know when I need encouragement or just a simple hug without words. And they treat me and my girls like a normal family, no questions asked.

There are a lot of people that will have to say goodbye to my girls. There are a lot of people that have been a huge part in my raising of the girls. There are a lot of people that will miss them. The hardest part of learning the girls would leave my home was the thought that I’d have to tell all my friends and family the news.

I was given a 30 day notice when their family member was given the green light to take the girls. I spent the first two weeks only telling my parents, my sister’s families, my extended family, and a few close friends. I didn’t know how to tell everyone else. I didn’t know when to tell everyone else. Heck, I just called my grandma two days ago because I couldn’t bear the emotions of telling her! (don’t worry, my dad had told her long before that) The day I decided to tell my church family was tough. I knew it would be. I dreaded it. These are the people that have loved and supported me for 30 years. These are the people that have watched me grow up. These are the people that shared my family’s excitement when I finally got the “mom card.” These are the people that crowd the nursery every Sunday morning so they can pass the girls around. 

For some reason, this was the hardest group of people to tell. Maybe it’s because I knew it would be announced on stage during the prayer. Maybe it’s because hearing it out loud made it a reality. All I know is when the announcement was made, I heard the blare of the bus horn as it ran me over. You know when you’re watching a sad movie in the theater and you hold your breath to attempt to keep from unleashing those embarrassing sobs and uncontrollable sounds coming from your gut? Yep. That happened. Only I think I kept the noises to a minimum. Just when I thought I was in control, I felt a hand on my shoulder. My darn brother in law! And as I felt my chest tighten and my breathing stop, I caught both he and my sister wiping their eyes. Dang it!

I stop myself from getting too sad. I stop myself from crying too hard. I know it’s bound to happen at some point. I won’t be able to stop myself every time. But I’ve been raised to know, without a doubt, that I am doing the job I was made to do. I am caring for His children. I am teaching His children. I am being used to do things beyond my strength, because it’s only by His strength I can survive this. He has given me the courage to choose foster care. He has created my heart for loving and protecting these children. He has guided my every decision and He has led me on this journey. I will continue to do His work until I hear Him say, “Well done.”

This last week with my girls will without a doubt be the hardest week of my life. But I have what I need to get me thought it. My family. My friends. My faith.