Our Time is Now: 53 Days of Vomit

I am not inclined to say that everything happens for a reason.  Stuff happens, and it is often unfair, unexpected, and uncalled for.

I AM inclined to say that perspective can give purpose.

When I was expecting my first three children by birth, there were nine months of hopeful expectation, baby showers, anticipation, and falling in love with the growing child inside of me. Preparing a beautiful nursery, purchasing the perfect coming home outfit, sending out invitations and announcements were a beautiful part of the process.

When I was expecting my three children by adoption, well, I wasn't expecting them.  They arrived in my life as a toddler and two preschoolers.  There was no expectation, no baby showers, no anticipation, no preparation.  A phone call, a "yes", and an hour later, they arrived.

I think back at all the things that happened with my biological children in their infancy and toddler years.  Countless hours soothing them, holding and rocking them, waking at night to console them. Visits to the doctor for immunizations, well checks, ear infections, and broken bones. There is so much that happens to create the sacred bond between a mother and child in those first months and years.  The precious time that I had with my first three children in their infancy is forever a part of me, and a part of them.  There is a physical, visceral connection that happens between babies and parents in those very early days.

I missed all of that with half of my children.  They missed all of that with me.

Until now.

My family has been tested in the past six weeks.  There have been five hospitalizations, countless doctor visits, time off work and school.  It has been hard. I've missed out on time with my husband, time with my other children, and with friends.  I haven't cooked dinner, cleaned the house, or even showered much at all.

I stopped for a moment to think about the purpose in this time of trial.

It's almost exactly like maternity leave.  I am bleary eyed, weary, and exhausted.  I am caring for two children who need me very much.

I am being given the opportunity to have a sort of maternity leave with my daughters who came to me as preschoolers.  I have spent countless hours soothing them, holding, and rocking them, waking at night to console them.  Visits to the doctor, countless visits.  There is so much that happens to strengthen the sacred bond between a mother and her children during times of illness.

I imagine them as infants.  I wonder what it would be like to hold their tiny bodies, to hear their newborn cries, or to see their first smiles.  I often think about rocking them as babies;  I think about having those precious hours, days, and months to get to know them.

But that wasn't my time.

My time is now.

Our time is now.

There is purpose in puke, there is joy in darkness, there is healing of souls, minds and bodies. This is our time.  53 days of vomit.  It is a season in our lives, a season that will come to an end.  And it is bittersweet.   Everyday that goes by, I can more easily discern their cries, interpret their groans, and feel their pain.  The physical, visceral connection between mother and child is being sealed.

This is a game changer.

Our time is now.  Our time for joy is now.  Our time for life and love is now.