God knows my limits.
After my precious Tanner died of heart failure I knew two things to be true: I wanted another beautiful human with Down syndrome in my world and I didn’t want to ever battle heart issues again.
Watching throngs of doctors, nurses and technicians lose the battle for Tanner’s life was the most horrific experience a mom can ever endure and a road I never want to walk down again.
Been there. Wished I never did that. Can’t want it.
You can then understand my relief when the preliminary adoption profile on “T3” was presented to me and there was no mention of any cardiovascular issues. I told God I would take whatever child He wanted to bring our way, but also prayed He would show mercy in His choice.
“Thank you, Lord,” I remember praying silently. Thank you for the gift of his health. Thank you for sparing me that pain.
I’m sure being T3’s mom will bring its own set of challenges, trials and tribulations, but I was good just knowing that his heart wouldn’t be one of them. Remembering back, I lost track of how many times I struggled to gauge if Tanner’s exhaustion was a bi-product of a busy day or a weary heart. I can remember sitting, sometimes for hours, watching his heart beat, making sure it looked the same as the day before. I can remember late night phone calls to my cardiac-nurse sister wondering if certain symptoms he was displaying were indicative of a problem. My own heart ached every time I worried over him.
Down syndrome and speech delays… that was the extent of T3’s diagnosis and I was cool with that.
Walk in the park.
Until it wasn’t.
My social worker expressed an interest in T3 on my behalf and a more comprehensive review of him was sent our way. There, as if in bold print, highlighted and underlined: congenital heart disease.
He’s the one with the bad heart but in that moment, mine seemed to stop beating.
My eyes filled with tears.
Heart disease?
Again?
Really, God?! Did you not see what happened last time?
I just can’t.
I wasn’t exactly the poster child for grace in the face of death. Plus, I had already thanked God for sparing us. Did the whole TIA not mean anything to Him?
No thank you. Pass.
I closed his paperwork. Told my social worker I needed to give it some thought,
but in my mind that door had shut.
This is not a path I could walk again.
That same night after receiving the tough news, I was set to lead Bible study. It was the first time since joining my Life Group a few years ago that I had been asked to lead, but our leader was out and they needed a pinch hitter. We were reading “Unstoppable: The Incredible Power of Faith in Action” by Nick Vujicic.
The chapter’s title was “Surrender.” I had read the chapter earlier in the week, made my notes and nothing really stood out to me. In an effort to be well-prepared — and let’s face it, I need a distraction from the heartbreaking news I just received — I decided to read the pages again. Immediately, Nick launches into the story of the Skinners, a Canadian couple who felt called to Uganda to open a church and then later realized God was calling them to adopt orphans from the war-torn streets.
The task the Skinners felt God calling them to seemed bigger than what they knew they could accomplish on their own. Ultimately, they surrendered their plans to God and He in turn has greatly blessed their church-building and adoption ministries. It’s what Nick said next about surrender that stopped me in my tracks: “When we spend all our time trying to remain in control, we risk missing the blessing that comes by putting faith into action and letting go.”
Are you kidding me, God?
Really?
On the day I find out T3 has congenital heart disease I’m scheduled to teach on a passage about (1) adoption (2) adopting out of their comfort zone, but (3) following God’s will knowing that in so doing they will be met with the greatest of blessings.
As a Christian, I don’t believe in coincides.
God couldn’t have spoken any louder if the passage had somehow called me out by name. It wasn’t even just a study I was scheduled to attend, but one He put before me to teach on.
Twenty minutes earlier I had mentally closed the door on T3. And now, I could feel God prying that door right back open.
“You said you would trust Me to bring the right child to you,” I heard Him whisper in the corner of my mind.
And it’s true. I had. “Whatever kid He had for me, I would accept.” I’d said it countless times. I just didn’t think He would ask me to go there again.
I opened the book back up and read the passage over and over again.
“When we spend all our time trying to remain in control, we risk missing the blessing that comes by putting faith into action and letting go.”
Maybe this is a test of my faith and God will reward it with a kid who outlives all of us, I thought to myself. That thought was quickly followed by the painful reality that maybe I was put here to love the kids whose hearts are biggest and need it the most, knowing it might end with me desperately clinging to the hand of another precious angel.
When Tanner died, my brother Dan texted me four of the most beautiful words and they still resonate deeply within me: “He was worth it.”
And he was. Tanner was. I’ve said it a hundred times that I would do it all over again, because he was so worth it.
T3 is worth it, too.
I texted my social worker: I’m in.
This weekend during T3’s visit he lifted his shirt and I was met by the all-too-familiar scar that ran the length of his chest. It’s the same scar that I used to love on Tanner; I just saw it as a part of his story, never guessing it would be what would take him from me. Sometimes I wonder if I don’t bear an invisible version of the same scar.
Just like the one before him, the love in T3’s heart is bigger than most. We had our first visit this past weekend. Turning to me and Travis at church he put his arms around us both and said: “Mine.” More than once he came up and wrapped his arms around mine and quietly nuzzled his cheek against my arm. At one point, as we were walking out of the house he quickly grabbed my flip flops, wanting to carefully place each one on my feet. Later, as we sat on the couch, him all bundled up in his new onsie pajamas and a soft blanket, he noticed my bare feet tucked near him and worried I might be cold he started to pull the edges of the blanket to cover my feet.
And to think, I almost turned him down… because of his heart.
It’s his heart I already love the most. ?
P.S. Our boy is coming home today…. forever.
*For anyone new to Live Like Tanner, welcome! Pictured is my angel in Heaven, Tanner.
