It's been almost seven weeks since I was in Ethiopia. Seven weeks since I left my son, crying and alone, with only a promise to hold on to. Forty-six days since I held my other two children, and whispered in their hair that I would come back, that I would bring them home, that I love them with everything I am.
Forty-six days where not one positive thing was accomplished since I left. Not one step forward.
I am heartbroken. Sick. Feeling beaten, although I refuse to give up. I'm like a bulldog with something clamped between my teeth. I don't care what happens--I WON'T let go. In fact, you would have to kill me and pry the object from my cold, locked jaw to get it. I don't care who you are, or what you tell me. You don't understand my love for my son, or the lengths I am willing to go for him. And that's all there is to it. I will fight to the death for him.
But inside, I am exhausted. On April 4th, I received information telling me that without multiple miracles and thousands of dollars, nothing could be done. I emailed everyone who might be able to help. I had contacts making calls in Ethiopia for me. I used every resource I had, every friend, every favor.
"If you want to know, how far my love will go, just how deep, how wide.....it's more than the drops in the ocean."
I remember three years ago, at the end of April, getting devastating news about Levi and Z. I was told they were never coming home, that their case was impossible, that everyone was giving up, that I needed to move on. I remember almost vomiting from the feeling of loss, the horrible pain, and the agony of losing my children. I screamed at God, I sobbed my eyes out, I was depressed beyond words. But I came up fighting. And God fought for me. And I got a referral at the end of that June.
Today, I received devastating news about Micah. I feel like it must somewhat compare to being told to pull life support on a loved one. No one else involved directly in the case believes there is any hope left, and no one is willing to do anything anymore. It's over. I was told today, from the last person I could depend on, that Micah will not be coming home. That his case is truly impossible (what everyone has been telling me for four years), and that there is nothing left to be done. His case has flat-lined, and he's gone. Time of death, April 27th, 11:17am.
I don't take no very well. First, I locked myself in my bathroom and started sobbing. The kids were doing school work in the kitchen and I was incapacitated on the bathroom floor, drowning in my own tears. I started furiously texting the poor soul who was giving me the bad news. I started begging, pleading, demanding. I brought up past promises that I had been given.....and I sent photo after photo of my son, eyes filled with hope. Then I sent a photo of him and I, along with a text that said, "Micah HAS to come home. He doesn't have a future. He doesn't have ANYTHING. Ask __________. Ask ________. I would die for him. Please don't give up on him."
I am not going to lie; I have been a lousy prayer warrior for my family as of late. I know all the right answers and all the right things to do. I know what is expected of me. I know that God is all powerful, and that He loves Micah more than me, and that He is in control, but honestly, I have been a mess. It's easy to say those things, but it is VERY hard to live it. Especially when your child is far away, unsafe, can't communicate with anyone, and you have had to walk away and leave them SIX times. It's hard to hold onto God's promises when every hour for four years, I have begged for my child. This isn't a faceless person.....this is a little boy whose face is burned in my heart, who I have held a hundred times now. I have stared into his dark eyes, and I have told him I love him. That I am his mom. That I will come back for him. Sometimes I think it would be easier if I hadn't met him. Maybe then it wouldn't hurt so bad. Every time I have left that gated building, my heart has been wrenched from my chest and left there, bleeding. Unless you have been through this, you cannot understand what it feels like to look your baby in the eye, a baby who cannot communicate with ANYONE around him, a baby no one wants, and tell him you are leaving and don't know when you are coming back. And then to have him cling to you, crying, and to pry him off you and turn your back on him.......I swear to you, I know God must have felt so much worse, but oh my word. I feel a comparison. It is HELL. A living hell.
Anyway. I have been a terrible prayer warrior. Because I have run out of prayers. Out of words. There is nothing left to say. God knows how much I want him. God knows how much I love him. And I have prayed like crazy for years. I know prayer can move mountains. But lately, I feel more like the mountains have caved in and trapped me. I still know that God is in control and He can do whatever He wants. But I can't ask anymore. I am simply existing. I am out of prayers for this. I thought I was out of tears, but that's not true. I still cry every day. Silent rivers running down my face, leaving me red-eyed and puffy. I just can't pray about him anymore. The Bible says when we can't pray that angels intercede for us (or the Holy Spirit.....honestly, it's 4am and I am exhausted, so I don't remember which) and that's what I need. Because I will fight to the death, but I need to see mountains moved. I need to see this power. I need to SEE GOD.
I won't lie either, I may or may not have screamed at God after this news about Micah. Because WHERE IS HE?!?!? If there are willing families, and hurting children, then why aren't they together? How long can God allow my child to suffer?!?!??! Haven't I been faithful in all this adoption stuff, for years and years? Take it out on me, but bring my child home. Let him be safe, and loved. Why is he alone and lost???? WHERE IS GOD'S POWER AND HIS PROMISES?!?!?!
Don't give me any pat answers. I know them all. This is called honesty. I know who is in control and I know that in the end, there is a bigger picture, and I know that there are reasons. This is not my first time around the block. I have seen it before, and I have seen so many miracles. I love Jesus and I am doing my best to follow Him, and I always will. I know He can do this. But right now, my precious child is suffering and alone, and that kills me. So this is me, being honest about how that feels.
It's hell.
Also, just to clarify. Just because I am out of prayers for this, does not mean I am giving up. I WON'T give up. Ever. I am his mom. He is my son. And I know that he WILL come home. It's not an option. It just IS.
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