Dear Sammy,

Typically, I write my boys a note on their birthday, but you won't be here for your birthday. And since you very much feel like one of my boys right now, I just wanted you to know that these last 8 months will stay with me forever.

You opened my eyes to new vulnerability and new brokenness. All sixteen pounds of you wrecked me in ways I wasn't ready for. I remember the first time I put you to bed, I had silent tears streaming down my face as I thought about freshly one year old you who didn't have his mama to celebrate his first birthday. You! A wonderful life worth celebrating!

In the weeks that followed that first night, you pushed me to surrender to Jesus in ways I hadn't before then. I prayed for you more in the middle of the night than I did for my kids, but I felt in my core that you needed it. In those middle of the night struggles, when I'd feel you collapse into my chest from exhaustion, only to return to the screaming protest the second I laid you down, I knew you needed the comfort and security of Jesus more than anything else. So we prayed you through those fears. I say that casually, but it was a battle. A battle worth fighting.

That could be said of pretty much the entire 8 months here. It's been a battle worth fighting! Fighting for your wellness, your development, and mostly your joy. Fighting to see that smile light up your face, which it so frequently does now. 

Sammy boy, your huge grin and gleeful laugh are a delight. Your expressions make me laugh every day. Your new words and new signs have me literally jumping up down and throwing you in the air as we celebrate your achievements. I've never been so happy to see a little one sign "more." The first time you did it, you were met with cheers as if you had just hit a homerun. 

You are loved, sweet boy. I wish I could assure your little heart that this transition happening is for YOUR good. It's in YOUR best interest. We are all doing this for YOU! You are loved. You are treasured. You are wanted. You belong in a family. For 8 months, it was with our family, but now it's time for you to be with your brother and sister. We are so excited for you, Sammy. But this Mama Bear is nervous for you. But just like those middle of the night battles, I'm not done fighting for you.

Sammy, I will continue to fight for you and plead for God's mercy and protection on your behalf. And I will keep cheering you on as you continue to achieve new things. 

I love you, little one. Our family will have a Sammy size hole from now on. You have changed us. And I'm so, so glad you did! 

Love,

Your Mama for the last 8 months 

  

The Final Countdown

We are in the final week of being a fivesome. 

From January to May of last year, we hustled through the process of getting approved to be a foster family. May through July we waited and waited for our first placement, saying, "yes," to several possibilities that didn't end up happening. The final week of July we said yet another, "Yes," and that resulted in Sammy being placed in our home. 

Now, eight months later, we prepare to transition this little guy out of our home. In the fostering world, an eight month placement is actually very short. A biological parent has at least 13 months to work a case plan, and most cases go far beyond that. In reality, Sammy's case isn't even close to being completed. He and his siblings could easily be in the system for another year. This past Christmas, I was sure that Sammy would still be with us the next Christmas. 

But DFCS had other plans. 

As we prepare our hearts, our heads, and our house to exit this little boy, it's been hard. And something about handing Sammy over has also reminded me that I just grieved the loss of a baby. 

The thing is, I know Sammy is going to do just fine, be just fine. He'll thrive in his new home. I know that big picture, this is 100% the right move. We would not adopt Sammy if/when the opportunity presents itself, so he really shouldn't stay any longer. I know that God loves this little boy perfectly, and He is trustworthy in this next step. 

I also know that little boy looks to me as his mama. And that is the piece that brings me to tears just about every time. My friend told me once that kids are excellent imitators and terrible interpreters. Thankfully, Sammy boy is quite young. But it pains me to think about his interpretation of this move. And that's where I trust God to cover Sammy's heart and mind with His relentless love. The ladies I meet with twice a month to pray with were so bold and faith filled in their prayers to ask God that Sammy would even feel loved in the transition. It seems literally impossible. 

But God!

There were many (many!) nights of praying fervently for Sammy as he screamed in protest and fear of sleeping alone in a crib in a home he didn't know. I literally paced his room, pleading for God's mercy. I pictured massive angels standing shoulder to shoulder as they protected Sammy in his crib, shielding him from any evil thing. And that's what I'll continue to pray for this little guy as he adjusts to life in a new home with a new mama who could potentially stay in his life forever. 

I stood at church yesterday and just cried through the worship songs. This loss feels so different than the baby we lost in December. But it still stings. 

I'm so glad we said, "Yes," when we did. It's been a hard, "Yes!" But eight months later, I want to keep saying, "Yes," to these kids. We're going to take a break. But so much about the last eight months has just solidified in my heart that the foster system needs more families in the trenches fighting for these kids. 

On Friday we hand our Sammy boy over. We leave that day to head down to Florida for a Lighthouse trip. Adam and I agree that the person who will need the distraction the most is me. The absence of that tiny but fiery one year old will be felt by all when we return. 

Here we go. It's the final countdown.