There are times in life when you're suddenly faced with the possibility of a horrible life event. The imminent death of a loved one, losing your job, or a grave financial disaster, just to name a few. But in each of these instances, whether the outcome is dire or whether it works out in your favor, the excruciatingly painful waiting is the same.
Tonight, my heart is breaking in half with the anticipation of a horrible life event. Our baby boy may be taken from us in a very short time, pending the results of a simple mouth-swab paternity test.
It's so hard to think that a small piece of cotton mixed with a small bit of DNA could change my life and the life of my family forever. What do I say to my other two children? How do my husband and I process the thousands of feelings raging inside? Who do I turn to that has any clue of what I'm going through? The very answer to all this fear and anxiety is sitting on the end of a Q-tip in a lab somewhere, waiting to destroy or save me as we are forced to wait to see who "wins" the life of our son.
This baby holds the key to so many spoken and unspoken prayers that have been offered up from my lips to God's ears. He is my favorite part of the day, my smile when I arrive home, and my precious cuddle at night. I'm the one that knows the position he likes to be held in just as he drifts off to sleep. I'm the one that can tell he has even the slightest fever, with just the touch of my cheek. I'm the one that can read his smiles, interpret his cries, and find his secret tickle spots. I'm the one that gives him baby massages and trims his nails. I'm the one that cleans out his ears and nose, lotions his skin, and sings him to sleep. I'm the one he smiles at and knows. I am his Mother....
And yet, how can I hate someone for being his possible father? How can I be angry that he may take HIS child from me? No. I don't hate this man. What I do hate is that I have no idea where to place these awful emotions. Who gets to be the bearer of the mountains of blame that I want to pour out in a fit of tears and rage? Who will be the recipient of my gut-wrenching sobs and rants? No one. There is no one to blame. How could I possibly be mad at anyone for wanting this amazing child? Anyone who has met him would want him in an instant! I've acted like he's all mine... I selfishly fantasized him as a Costa, his first day of Kindergarten, what he will look like when he's in grade school, what type of man he will become. I unguardedly loved someone that was never mine in the first place. I assumed that this was God's gift to me because I have been unable to have my own babies... but what if I was just a stepping stone to the rest of his life? What if I was here to love him unconditionally for 6 months as a holding place until he could be united with a man that didn't even know he existed?
If that is the case.... if my son is to be nothing more to me than a temporary glimpse of the dreams I have always wanted to come true, then I will be left with a memory of what it is to have mothered the most wonderful baby boy in the entire world. And he will never remember that he had me as his mother at all. I have no idea how to make my heart, mind, or soul understand such a tragedy. I don't know how to grieve someone I wasn't supposed to fall in love with, someone that is still alive, and someone that will soon forget my very existence. His biological father has no idea what he's missing... but I would be painfully and desperately aware of Isaac's absence from my arms.
And so, tonight, I ask all of you Mommies, Daddies, and Grandies to join with me in a prayer. I want what is best for my son. Perhaps that's not me. And if that's the case, pray that there would be a supernatural strength that comes to take over my body when my heart breaks open. But if God should see fit to leave his little angel in mine and my husband's care, then please pray that this waiting game that we are forced to play will not be the death of our spirits. Thank you so much for your love, support, and encouragement.