Opening Our Hearts....

I think of how drastically our lives have changed in one short year.  Some days, I can't remember it.  Other days, it feels like yesterday, hours away, in my memory.  We are coming upon almost four years without Jonah.  Four long years. I talk to older ladies at the nursing home as they recall the horrors of losing their children, burying infants or toddlers.  Seventy to eighty years may have passed, they'll still hang their heads and whisper, "I was never the same afterwards." It's true.  We are never the same. But as I tell everyone, there is a blessing in every tragedy, whether or not, you choose to see it or accept it, is completely up to you.  I choose to make Jonah's short life a blessing.  I want to remember our short days together with happiness.  I choose to work toward congenital heart defects awareness.  But it doesn't just stop there.  Without Jonah, we would have never opened our home to the children in our care.  We went from one child - one lonely, only child - to five children.  They each are unique in their own way and they each bring a wonderful dynamic to our family.  They push me to my limit, at times, but they each bring out something different in me.  I learn about myself as I learn about their personalities, their fears, their pasts and what I hope for their future.  With each child, we remind ourselves that we don't care about their past, our only concern is for their future.  We are preserving that each day that they come home to a safe place with a positive environment.  Did we expect things to be this way? Absolutely not.  Two years ago, we said only one child. We'd only bring one child into our home.  With each child we met, we found a new mission.  Some didn't work out the way we had planned, but we did everything, within our power, to protect that child and get them the care they needed to be successful in life.

 

Three and a half years ago, Elijah lay beside me in bed, asking many questions about Jonah.  He cried because he had only wanted a brother. He was a strong six year old but weak in that moment. I whispered that we would give him a sibling, I promised.  He looked at me through teary brown eyes, "You tried that, mom. It didn't work." I laughed.  It was so simple to Elijah.  His mind was innocent, clouded by the harsh reality that baby's do die. Those moments are long gone.  Jonah's memory still prevails in our home, but those conversations aren't present around here.  We're busy, just being a family.  We've very imperfect within these walls, but collectively, with all our pieces, we rarely notice the flaws.  And for that, I am thankful. Thankful that Jonah was with me for 17 days to show me how important life really is....to be appreciative for every given moment with our children, biological or not.

 

With an open home, we have opened our broken hearts.

 

 

 

 

Don't forget to join us on Team Jonah's Heart Walk team! Sign up here: http://heartwalk.kintera.org/faf/search/searchTeamPart.asp?ievent=1026368&lis=0&kntae1026368=6610DC03BC98434E821CC3A948025D01&supId=0&team=5367411&cj=Y

A Hard Truth

No one ever said this journey was easy. Difficult, at times, but well worth every second.

I checked B into an inpatient mental hospital on Friday. I had regret. I worried that we were wrong. Could he just be rebellious? Could we continue trying with him? When I dropped him off, I was told it would take up to four hours to evaluate him and determine if he could be admitted. I left and waited. At almost 7 last night, they called to tell he was admitted to acute rehab. They stopped just shy of calling him a sociopath. You did the right thing, was the last thing I was told.

What some people may have thought they knew about B, you never knew.

B is tormented by things beyond our control. He just turned 9. I think it's unfair to simply label him and toss him to the wolves. He needs help and I'm making certain that he gets it. Love and stability could not save B. He is a master at his illness. We've struggled with it. We've ignored the warning signs. We've disciplined him accordingly. We could no longer allow the other 3 children in our home to watch B self-destruct. It is what it is and it had to be done - that phone call confirmed to us that these measures had to be taken. I don't know if B will ever come back to us. I don't know if B can ever function as normal thriving citizen of society. I can't exactly say what his future holds but for now, we have to step away from him.

We have learned a hard truth in this journey: love can't heal everything.

I do know that last night our home was at peace. It was comfortable and we could relax. It was normal. His name wasn't mentioned. In two weeks, he'll move to a permanent facility to complete his rehab. He'll be further away from us, and we'll be asked then to make our decision. Be a part or walk away. We haven't even discussed it yet. B made it very clear to me as he was leaving that he didn't like me, then he turned and told me he loved me. I am allowed to call and speak him to him but have no plans to do that. They said last night that he misses me tremendously. However, he's manipulative. He'll say anything for me to pick him up. I'm standing my ground. This isn't about me or Jason or our family ~ this is only about B getting the help he needs and deserves. I'm angry at the adults that did this to him. Furious. It isn't his fault but it has to be corrected for him to have any chance at normalcy.

Pray for B.