I held your baby tonight.
She was sick. Fever raging. Through her tears, she was mumbling but I couldn’t understand what she needed because toddlerspeak isn’t easy to decode for the not-the-mama. She’s only been in my arms for a short time, so I’m still learning her.
Her warm head rested on my chest. I shared her air. Her soft curls brushed against my lips as I gently kissed her forehead. My hand rested on her back affirming her safety in the cradle of my arms.
I imagined her thoughts.
Was she hoping for your hold instead of mine? Was she thinking of you?
I sat in the quiet space of that doctor’s office and I thought about you.
Her medical history, allergies, and all the other questions hurled my way by nurses and doctors tonight were met with unknown answers. I bet you know.
I took her home, checked her temperature, medicated her and put her into pajamas; things a mama does. Then I scooped her up and swayed her back and forth as she drifted off to dream.
I thought about how unsure she must be feeling in the dark of this room. How lonely her heart must be…even in my embrace.
I thought about you.
And I hope I’m your rock bottom.
I pray our paths have crossed in the scariest season of your life.
I’m it. I AM your worst case scenario.
Your child has found me and now digging out of these depths is up to you.
She called me mommy tonight. Or maybe she was crying for you. Either way, she needs one of us. For now, I’m the one choosing to respond. But your window isn’t widening to reunite so I’m desperately rooting for you to do something–anything–that gets you one step closer to holding her again.
Let me be your last time, the bottom of your barrel, the end of your road.
She still knows you, so don’t live in your despair because there’s real hope for your hardships.
I’m thinking of you tonight.
I’m drained because I’m doing your job and I just hope you’re done with all the darkness.
I know this is your lowest moment because the love of a mother is as real and raw as it gets in this life. Love comes alive for a child and takes flight in its own survivalist ways. You don’t have to convince a mama to long for and yearn to be with her child–the Creator of the universe set that soul craving deep inside of us long ago.
The only thief that can steal that desire away is the sin of this world that so easily entangles us–the sin that has gripped your soul so tightly that you can’t break free alone. And that is keeping you from your babies for now…and possibly forever.
In time, she will learn to trust me and let me love her. But it’s not the way I want it. And I know if she could verbalize her heart’s hunger, she would tell you the same thing.
So let me be it.
May your anguish awaken you to the matter of your misery.
I don’t always believe you can do it, but I’m worshiping the One who says it’s possible.
Find the fullness of life.
Then come running back to your baby. Because the only way to walk out of rock bottom is to run hard and fast to privilege of the peak where you can once again hold the hand of the kid you were created to care for and adore.
Kristy and Zach are biological parents to 4 beautiful kiddos under the age of 9. They have called 12 other babies their own since starting their journey as a foster family in the summer of 2012. They say yes to the hard and crazy as they follow Jesus on this journey of surrender and obedience. Kristy loves coffee, good conversation, comfy clothes and Anne of Green Gables. She is assertive and loves change as she learns to thrive in the chaos. Follow Kristy on her personal blog – This Hard Calling.