"Why?"

On this medical journey, we have already seen more doctors and nurses than I can count. Inevitably, they will ask for medical history and click through the medical records as I tell, for the hundred something time, her birth story and where our stories met.

There is also a moment after I list her medical issues and share that I am not bio mom, but foster and soon-to-be adoptive mom, they look up from behind their screen in surprise and look me up and down. 

Every doctor. 

Some cannot help but ask if I knew all this before we knew her, in disbelief. Surely no one would willingly take this on. 

And I will explain that we had her diagnosis early and the prognosis was very grim, and she is exceeding all expectations and thriving. And yes, we did know most of it, at least possibilities.

Then, at the end, they will thank me. Unable to look me in the eye, they will stare at their screen or their hands, and thank me for taking on "...this uh, special case..." Or something like that.

I want to hide...or vomit. Or just cry.

What the surprise in their eyes and voices really wants to ask is "Why?" 

Why in the world did you choose this? A lifetime of medical needs and appointments, of equipment and adjustment, of different, uncomfortable, and difficult. 

Why?

At first, I could barely hold myself together - and I pride myself on putting aside emotion in medical conversations to get to the issues at hand (Years of childhood illness and infertility with appointments and procedures have cultivated some unexpected skills.) 

I was a mess, because it was overwhelming and because I knew that these doctors didn't: all the God moments that brought us together and showed His powerful faithfulness over and over again. And that was the most overwhelming aspect of our story: His undeniable faithfulness.

I was not a mess because of her diagnosis. I was a mess because of how much He loves her and fought for her. How can I explain that in 2 minutes at a doctor's office without falling apart?

What I wish I could say to them all is this:

Our girl is a miracle through and through. We did not make her a miracle through our choice or our wanting of her. She is a miracle because God made her. We did not give her value because we chose her. She has inherit value because she is a person. In His image. She is an image bearer. Just like anyone else. 

Yes, we made a choice. 

For most parents of children with HIE or CP, it comes through traumatic birth experiences and they are already grieving the loss of that perfect birth experience and now also the loss of all they expected parenthood to be. They did not choose it. 

We made a choice early on in our adoption and foster care journey. We would say "Yes" until God closed the door. With open hands we received every case file, every phone call, and email. Most often, God closed the door through some logistical impossibility; a child in a wheelchair needing an accessible home and vehicle, which we did not have; a child several states away. Sometimes He closed the door by way of another family being chosen first. 

Our choice, our decision, really was: God, we do not want to choose. You choose for us. You make the way. You create our family. You know what child needs a family, may we be thst family for them. (What we wanted to avoid was a situation where we might have to choose between two children - an impossible choice - and thankfully God has been gracious and faithful to us and it has never happened.)

But how is our "choice" different than most other parents of medically complex children, or non-medical children? We said, "Make this family." And He did - the means by which He worked look a little different than most, but all still in His hands. 

If one of my adopted children, or a bio child, was diagnosed with cancer or debilitating disease or a brain injury...I wouldn't just say no and walk away! That is my child! Life would be different than we had expected and we would make necessary changes, fight and advocate, do whatever we needed to...this is no different. 

Imagine if a child received a diagnosis of a brain injury after a car accident. And the doctor comes in to inform the family. At the end, he asks, "Do you still want your child?" 

1) What horrible doctor would say that?

2) That's basically the question being asked to me at every appointment. "You still wanted this child?"

But would you? Would you stay by your child's side? Would you walk away? 

OF COURSE NOT!

Would you be scared? Worried? Unsure of the next steps? Worried how you will do it all? Wondering about what life will look like for your family next month or 10 years from now? Wondering if and how you will make medical decisions about for your child?  Would you be overwhelmed, terrified, feeling unqualified and alone? 

Absolutely. 

But it's your child. And you would never walk away. 

When we got the call and spoke to the doctors about this little newborn baby alone in the NICU, we spent about a week praying and researching. I called the doctors a couple more times with questions. 

We were waiting. Really, God made the decision the day of the call. We knew, unless God closed a door, this was our baby waiting for us. But, not wanting to rush in only to realize this was not a possibility, as we have learned through experience not to do, we waited a few days for God to close a door or confirm. 

Praise the Lord, He never moved that door an inch! I cannot imagine life now without this sweet, beautiful, stubborn, sassy, determined, brave baby. 

She is our child. 

We just didn't know about her until she was 2 months old. 

We said Yes to her long ago.

And she is finally here!

I only wish I could show you her amazing progress and sweet personality along the way. One day soon though, I can show you everything.