Wednesday, November 12, 2008

The Greatest Compliment Ever Paid

The second greatest compliment ever paid me was when a Grandma who knows the dirt, the nasty, has seen me without make-up in all of my imperfections, and knows many of my secrets said in front of a crowd, "When I come back in my next life, I want to come back as Yannette's daughter." It was random a thing to say. I had just finished saying to my two year old cousin, "You get a choice. Would you like some vegetables or some fruit?" Wicked parenting skills, eh?

I had to turn my back so I wouldn't cry. I won't ever forget it, and the person who said it probably doesn't even remember.

It was one of those statements that came at just the right time.Given a choice, someone would choose me as their mom.

I had heard many a new mom stand up in Fast and Testimony meeting following the blessing of their baby and publicly proclaim how grateful they were that "God had chosen them to parent". It wasn't their fault, but each and every time it was a slap in the face. God had not chosen me.

Waiting to be chosen can be exhausting. Physically. Emotionally. And often the most damaging- spiritually. It's the waiting that's the worst.

You wait your twelve months of not getting pregnant before someone listens to you that there may be something wrong. You wait for test results. Then you wait for fingerprints and paperwork. Then you wait for your letter saying you're a go. The whole while waiting, waiting, waiting. Waiting for someone, God even, to pick YOU to be a mom.

It was the waiting that was killing me. I don't do sitting around doing nothing well. I blame my mother for this. She doesn't either. And after CPS (Child Protective Services) failing yet another child, and being un-picked by a selfish, evil man, I couldn't do more waiting. I never felt more useless. I decided I needed a change from my job as a nurse manager and went back to Home Health.

Oh, I also took us off the waiting list. I called up our caseworker and told him I needed a break. No more waiting. Please take us off the list.

The last person I expected to hear from my second day back on the job was our caseworker. I was on my way home from work and got message on my voicemail to call him ASAP. I called him back and as if he was afraid I'd be mad in one singe breath he says,

"I'm really sorry. We took you off the list. We really did. But somehow your profile had already gone out to this birth mom. Yannette, she's picked you."

He went on to tell me the particulars of the situation, what he knew of her background. The baby. My baby's. And he told me she wanted to meet and if we decided to go ahead, she wanted us to be at the hospital. I told him I needed to talk to John but I was pretty sure he could make the appt. John didn't answer his phone, so I called my mom. Then I finally got a hold of John and of course he said we would meet her.

The following week we met our birth mom and her mother. I turned away so as not to cry when I was paid the greatest compliment by another Grandma. "It didn't matter how we got your profile, we would have found you. She knew from the minute she saw you, she would pick you."

Somebody picked me to be their baby's mom. And to her, I will be eternally grateful.

1 comment:

Casey said...

That was such a sweet post! Makes the waiting I do (and complain about constantly!) seem so trivial! You rock!

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