Expect Expecting

When I wrote, Things I Can't Deny, Yet I Try, I wrote what I felt I was supposed to write at the time. But now I look back and realize just how much I said things were one way and that they'd never change. I claimed the title of "barren" more than once as something that would always be me. I didn't say it everywhere, and that's not what I was going for, but still it's there.

Last week Pastor spoke on the man at the pool who had been laying there for years and years wishing to make it to the waters so that he could be healed (John 5). When Jesus shows up on the scene he asks him, "Do you want to be healed?". His first response wasn't yes. His first response was to give Jesus all the reasons he could NOT be healed.

Y'all infertility is all I've ever known. Do I want to be healed?!? Pastor mentioned how sometimes we don't ask for prayer because we are afraid people will pray and it won't happen. At the end of service he asked if anyone wanted to be prayed for to be healed, to come forward, and I thought of my barrenness, but I stayed in my seat. I've already been prayed for! I've already been healed! Right?!? I don't need to go forward and ask again for that, I just need to embrace that I've already been healed... But I sat and thought of the prayers that have already been prayed and I've yet to see them answered. 

Truth is, I stayed in my seat because I didn't want others to look at me and see nothing change. 

Here's a poem I wrote the other day for the Sisterhood of Infertility Bible study:

Elisha who is doing the class made it look all nice and pretty for sharing it with the group. It's funny how this blog of mine is all about stuff like that, and yet I didn't share that here. I mentioned to a friend the other day, and I think to my husband as well, that though I know people "know" about the prophetic word that I'll be pregnant because it's mentioned in my blog posts and I know people have read my blog.... I don't talk about it. I've not had many conversations with people about it. I'm scared they won't believe me, and they'll feed my doubts that it'll ever happen. 

The first place I mentioned that prophetic word here on my blog, I hoped no one would notice. It was the second half of a really long post, and then I wrote another post before I shared with anyone that I'd written more. For most people, I hoped they'd never see the second half of my post: The Third Tree & Me. I suppose if my plan worked and you never read it, you can go read it now.

Since it was out there though, and I'd broken the ice putting it on my blog at all, I slowly started to mention it more... Yet this poem I wrote and I didn't want to share here, and the fact that I've noticed that I don't really have much conversations with people about any of that, and the fact that I sat in my seat last Sunday with the thoughts that I had, it begs me to ask: 

Do I want to be healed? 

Am I ready to say goodbye to what I've always known? Am I ready for things to be different now? I ordered a crib for Irene! My little Ira-Belle, my promised child, my pregnancy of a little girl that's coming!!! But that's a pretty huge deal, if I set it up and people come over... They'll see it. Do I really want them to see it?

The day after I made my last post, I cleared out the spare room and set up the pack-n-play. I left the door open when I went to bed. It's time. It's time to move forward and see that as Irene's room, not as "theirs" anymore. And it hurts that it's not "theirs", but I want that room to be filled with HOPE, and not sorrow. Joy of things to come, and not the pain of the past that is no more. But the pack-n-play? It's temporary. I know me, I'll fold it up and put it away. I'll find some excuse to not have it around when others are here so I don't have to explain it, so they won't know, so that conversation never starts.

Do I want to be healed?

I cleared out the room! I set up the pack-n-play! My boys all know about the outfit that was bought because God said I'll be pregnant and have a little girl. My boys all know what her name will be! I've told them!!! And yet... And yet the very next day, after I did that to the room and slept with that door open, I sat in my seat at church wondering if I should go up and be prayed for my "barrenness" to be healed?

Do I want to be healed?

Before the week was out, I ordered the bassinet. God that's my answer, my answer is yes. And I ordered one that's not an easy to fold up one, because I know I'd be tempted to stash it away. I did that! Yet I still feel that hesitancy in me to not let others know about it. 

Do I want to be healed?!

This week God called me out in church to be prayed for before the sermon even happened. Now everyone at church knows! If there was anyone in church that hadn't read my blog and found out here, or hadn't heard it from someone else already, they've heard it now. God says I'm not barren anymore! God says that title is no longer mine! God says my womb is open!!! God says!!!! Funny, the sermon that Pastor gave afterwards was about the lame man who was brought to Jesus by his friends to be healed. I did not seek out this prayer, Pastor didn't orchestrate it, a friend interrupted the flow of service to call others together to pray for me and my womb and to tell me I'm not barren anymore and I need to come out of agreement with barrenness and... yeah.. They all heard it, they all know, it's time to be expecting that I'm expecting.

When you read the story about the healing of the lame man who was brought to Jesus by his friends in Mark 2, I notice that the lame man doesn't say a word. And I notice that the first words spoken to him by Jesus are not the words that healed him physically. Jesus looked at the faith of his friends and then said to the lame man, "Son, your sins are forgiven you." I wonder if it wasn't the lame man's idea to be brought to Jesus. I wonder if the lame man didn't seek out his healing. I wonder if his healing was all his friends idea. He might have even argued against it. Whether or not he did, imagine him silently going along with their idea to bring him to Jesus all the while thinking to himself, "There's no point. I've been this way for so long. Everyone says that it's because I've sinned that I'm this way. Maybe they are right. Maybe if I hadn't of done this... or that... That's got to be it. He can't heal me, He won't heal me, it won't work, we won't even make it to Him, my sin is just too much, it's all my fault, I..." And then they get there, it doesn't look like they're going to make it to Jesus after all, the crowd is just too much, "I knew it, this venture was hopeless to begin with, maybe we should just turn back..." But he stays silent as his friends insist and make a way through the crowd, and make a way through the roof, and they put him right directly at Jesus' feet. Here's the moment, here it is, when everyone is going to see I'm a sinner and I'm not worthy... "Son, your sins are forgiven you." And the lame man breaks into silent tears as THAT is what he needed to hear. "He sees me, He called me His son, He loves me, He accepts me right where I'm at, it's not my fault, if I never walk it's okay because it's not because I'm not worthy because of my sin like everyone has told me." Before Jesus healed him physically, He addressed what might have kept him from his healing, a thought pattern that said it could never be done.

I am His daughter. He sees me, He loves me, and He has chosen me and called me out to be blessed with a pregnancy when I had quit asking for it. When I quit believing it could be done for me, He says it will. He says I am not barren anymore, I will not be identified by that word any longer. It's not me.

So hello, my name is Suzanna, I am a daughter of God, a blessed wife, and a mother to three amazing boys and a precious little girl I'm standing in faith preparing now for her arrival. ♡

If I Can Just Ignore My Pain

Something I've been doing every night since they left, and something I don't feel ready to quit doing, is that every night I close their bedroom door. "Their" bedroom door. The bedroom that used to belong to the sister and baby brother of my adopted children. I closed it every night they were gone on visits too. When I wake up, it's the first thing I see. Just across the hall is their bedroom door. Open? Means I wake up seeing that it isn't their room anymore. When they were gone on visits? It meant seeing their empty beds. Either way, I hate it.

Here's a poem I wrote last week:

If I can just ignore my pain,

If I can just ignore that they were here,

If I can just avoid the pictures,

Maybe I can forget all of last year.

I once had six children,

Twice as much as my current three,

If I could just forget how much I loved them,

How much easier things could be.

I need to get the pictures back up,

I need to watch his or her favorite movie,

I need to talk more about them,

I need to not avoid my grieving.

There's so much to be said,

about being strong and moving on,

But sometimes I need to slow down,

and maybe hear their favorite songs.

It's ok to cry,

It's ok to grieve,

It's ok to remember,

all those hopes and future dreams.

It's ok to hold on for a moment,

and really feel the weight,

that we never got to getting,

an adoption date.

I want to kiss his little cheeks,

and hold her little hand,

and help him make his dreams come true,

in any way that I can.

I want to see his little skip,

and hear them call me mom,

and listen to her brothers groan,

as she asks again for the Barbie coffee shop song.

I last heard that song,

on the very day they left,

thinking on it now,

brings the tears I have kept.

I really do miss them,

but thoughts on them I try not to dwell,

It's also ok to be strong,

and just pray they're doing well.

It's been 2 and a half months since they moved out, and we haven't heard a word from them, or about them, since about a week after they left. Dad started sending texts asking for information that we weren't allowed to give, so we quit responding, and then there just hasn't been any more since. 

Almost 4 weeks ago the caseworker hand delivered a small box full of toys and letters to mom, dad, and the kids for us. The message the caseworker sent me afterwards said, "I delivered the box tonight. And I talked to ____ and ____ about getting with you and letting y'all see the kids. They seemed very open to it." Almost 4 weeks since I was sent those words, and we have yet to hear anything back.

My next "plan" is to try making contact again. Maybe send another box of letters? Maybe send the few more toys of theirs we've found? Maybe send them a message on Facebook? A friend request? Or maybe text them and invite them to join us at the park?

That last one is the one I want to do the most, and the one I want to do the least. I don't feel ready to see the kids again, and yet... I need to. It's only been 2 months and I can barely remember ever having had them here. Life has gone back to "normal" without them. Normal-ish anyway, we're still dealing with some anger and tantrums and whatnot, but mostly we have a new normal again now. Life is "normal" without them here. And like people who have a baby and the day after they arrive they can't imagine life without them..... I almost can't imagine them here anymore. It feels so distant. And there's not empty beds, or their stuff, or... I have pictures to prove they were here, but the memories feel almost like a dream. I need to hug them again, hear their little laughs, and feel for a moment just how deeply I love them and wish they were mine and allow my heart to ache to the core that they won't be going home with me......

It's good to move on and be strong and all that, but it's also good the days and moments that come and I just want to cry because I miss them. I welcome the moments the tears come, because other times I feel numb and fear they never will. 

Desired Harbor

Psalm 107:23-32

"Some went down to the sea in ships,

     to do business in the vast waters;

they saw the works of the Lord

     and His wonders in the deep water.

For He commands and raises the stormy wind,

    which lifts up the sea waves.

The sailors went up to the sky, they came down to the depths;

    their strength melted because of the great danger.

They reeled to and fro and staggered like drunken men,

    and were completely confused.

 Then they cried out to the Lord in their trouble,

    and He saved them out of their distress.

He made the storm calm,

    and the sea waves were still.

 They were glad because the waters were quiet,

    so He brought them to their desired harbor.

Let them praise the Lord for His goodness

    and for His wonderful works to the people!

Let them exalt Him in the congregation of the people,

    and praise him in the assembly of the elders."

It sounds so much like us with foster care. All the ups and downs, the to and fro, the rollercoaster ride. They were confused and staggered like drunken men. I have felt so lost, none of it makes sense! I told you how the kids came back to us on the day I prayed their names! Got wants them here! I even told you how I had a name for another girl who would come from her womb, and though the next sibling born was a boy (a half-blooded sibling), she did get pregnant again with birth dad and had another girl. But that girl? She didn't come here. On the very day we found out she was pregnant, we were contacted about a passenger van. Same day. The conversation about the van was on-going when we heard the news birth mom was expecting again. The reason we'd need the passenger van, right? But then just before she was born everything changed again, and now not only do we not need a passenger van, we all fit in a car. "Staggered like drunken men and were completely confused." God it doesn't make any sense, and yet when I look at things I see Your hand in both. I see Your hand in bringing them here, and in them leaving. "He made the storm calm, and the sea waves were still." 

They left. We got rid of the extra beds. We're no longer licensed. "They were glad because the waters were quiet, so He brought them to their desired harbor." I want to say I don't know what my desired harbor is, it's what I was leading up to with all of this, but I do know. My desired harbor is for things to be good between us and their birth parents, and they're not. The waters are quiet right now, but they are too quiet; we're not talking. Cut out the DHS noise? Great! Cut out the drama? Fantastic. But cut out contact? Too much. I've said it over and over again over the years, "I don't know what things look like on the other side, but I want things to be good between us." And I just wrote that again recently in a letter to them, once again trying to open up communication between us. It's been 2 weeks since that letter was hand delivered by the caseworker, and we're waiting to hear anything back. We might give it another week or two and try making contact again. I want things to be good between us, and this isn't it. Maybe things'll get better and we'll become friends and they'll have theirs and we'll have ours. Or maybe one day all the kids are here and adopted by us and things are good between us on the other side of that. My desired harbor doesn't involve a "we're not talking right now" in it. Which surprises a lot of people, and honestly kind of surprises me too a bit, but that's it and it always has been.

And there's this other part of my desired harbor which involves me being pregnant. For us to have a child that we never have to worry will be taken from us simply because we're not the birth parents. A child that we won't be holding our breath until adoption day for them to have our last name, but to have our last name before they even exit the womb? Wow that sounds amazing. God said I will be pregnant when I quit praying that would ever happen, and now I see just how much I never quit hoping it would. Just once I want a kid I never have to support reunification, and that's likely to never happen with foster care. 

How desperately I love those kids, and I would trade ever being pregnant to have all of their siblings adopted in our home being raised together. But what I want even more is for my kids to know their birth parents growing up. For one day when they get married they might want both us and them present on their big day. That they'll know them and have a healthy relationship with them before that day gets here. It boggles my own mind that I'd be willing to share my children that much, but that's what I want. I want my children to be whole and complete, and their birth parents are a big part of that. I don't want them ever wondering who their birth parents are, they'll know them for themselves. I want their birth parents to be someone they're proud of knowing, for them to be someone they'd want at their weddings. I can't make that happen, but I can hope and pray and encourage their birth parents to become those people. And I can do my best to allow every opportunity for them to know their kids, but a relationship is two sided and I can't make them keep up their side. 

I want things to be good between us and them. I want to feel my family is complete. I want to feel content and satisfied. I want God to make everything beautiful, and it's not yet. Right now I have kids crying because they miss their siblings. They're worried about their siblings because they have no idea how they're doing. They want to know when they'll see them again, and I don't have an answer. What I can tell my children though is, "Your brothers and your sister know you love them, that you miss them, and that you're thinking about them. They know this because they can see: my brother wrote me a letter.". I can tell them this and I can offer the opportunity for them to write more letters. And I can sit and I can pray with them that their birth parents would say something back to us so we can make plans to see them again, so they don't have to worry anymore about how they're doing.

One day I believe we'll make it to our desired harbor, one where God has made everything beautiful, we're just not there yet.

Things I Can't Deny, Yet I Try

I've realized recently that there are a couple of very important aspects of my story that I've been in denial over existing for quite some time. One is that I'm a "barren" woman. Or at least I have been for the last 16 years, I might not be anymore. But those 16 years? They exist. They exist and they have helped in shaping me into who I am today. But I've been in denial and have masked my infertility with my children for the last (almost) 10 years. And my children? The second thing I've been in denial over goes with the first, that my children aren't biologically mine. My kids were "foster" kids, and now I have three that are forever mine. Foster? Don't much care for that word either. My kids feel like mine, and I want to forget that foster was ever a part of it. This last time being a foster parent? I felt it so much more! I love when I go out in public and people ask me "are they all yours?" and I proudly reply "yes." This time though? I felt a kink in my mask that people might not believe me anymore me trying to claim them as all biologically mine. Maybe that's not what people are asking when they ask that, maybe biologically isn't at all on their minds, but with my barrenness? It's always on mine. That's always where my mind goes, wondering biologically if all the kids are mom's kids. If I were to ever ask that, that's what I'm wondering, did you birth all these children? I love my mask. I love thinking that people think I've birthed all these kids! But this last time I felt a kink in my mask as one of my precious children this time around was bi-racial. That gorgeous little darker skinned boy with the most beautiful smile in the world (I can't help myself thinking toddlers have the most precious smiles), yep! He's mine! I would say yes to that question about all my kids being mine, and then I would wonder if they then saw him and didn't believe me. My kids might not look much like me, but that one particular boy was obviously not the product of my husband and I together. If all these kids are mine biologically, then something must have happened that this boy has a different dad...

     I loved going to a new church and people not knowing my kids were adopted. Them being adopted is NOT their defining description. But I will intentionally keep that quiet as long as I can. Worst part was, when we started going there, the youngest wasn't adopted yet, and then he started having weekend visits with his birth mom... I could have lost him, and him never return! And these people weren't a part of my support system at all because I didn't even bother to tell them he wasn't mine. I just let them wonder when he started not being there on Sunday mornings with us...

     We're in a different place now with those in our church, they know now. I let them know beforehand that our kids have other siblings out there. I let them know when I heard mama was pregnant again. And when the day came that their siblings joined our family, our church rejoiced in seeing us take up a whole pew with all our kids. They've loved us, and supported us, and have been praying for us, and when the kids left? They grieve with us too. There have been no ugly words from anyone about their birth parents. There have been words of concern as people pray that that their birth parents are able to overcome all that they'll need to overcome to be able to care for these kids. I wish I could have ignored that they were foster, but this was the most fostering foster care case we've ever had. That word got used a lot this time around as the kids were older and wanted to know why things were different for them than the others. Why did they go to visits, and the others didn't? Why did they go to public school, but the others got to be homeschooled? Why was our 4 year old boy allowed to come to mom and dad's bed in the middle of the night, but our 5 year old girl was told she couldn't climb into our bed? Because he's adopted and you're foster. It's against the rules, she can't! It doesn't matter if she's had a bad dream, or if she begs and begs me to lay down next to her when I put her to sleep, I'm not allowed to do that because she's "foster". Seemed like every where I turned, that word foster kept coming out making a defining line between biological siblings in our home. Did I mention they were ALL biological siblings?! But half were foster and half now had our last name. Constantly I felt reminded of that fact.

Anyway, where was I? Barren and foster; words I don't like, words I wish to ignore whenever possible. I got to ignore them for a time. I got to pretend like I had three precious boys that were biologically mine and that we never suffered through infertility or anything to get them. Then my family grew more, and it grew more in a way that I couldn't hide behind my masks anymore. Y'all, I'm tired. 

God asked me the other day, "Aren't you tired of striving?". YES!!!! Yes I am. I'm not even sure what I'm striving with, but I know I'm tired. I'm so tired. "Come to Me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest." (Matthew 11:28) Rest sounds so good! Jared and I both recently were wondering what that word "rest" means in that verse. Jared looked it up and it means "pause". And I want to cry! Even though we all know that rest means to take a break, somehow that word pause just seems so much worse. Because when I think pause? All I can think is how it'll resume and I'm not ready. Guys I want them back so bad!!!!!!!!!!! Please don't think I don't love them and wish they were still here. But guys? I also selfishly think.... can it wait a while? It wouldn't hurt if it takes a while before they come back.... 

Matthew 11:28 Then Jesus said, “Come to me, all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. 29 Take my yoke upon you. Let me teach you, because I am humble and gentle at heart, and you will find rest for your souls. 30 For my yoke is easy to bear, and the burden I give you is light.”

It's funny, when I quoted this scripture to my husband this morning, I quoted what I remembered of verse 28 and 30, I completely forgot about verse 29. I remembered that His yoke is easy, and His burden is light, but I completely forgot how we are to take His yoke upon us. How do we partner up with Him so that we aren't carrying the burden alone anymore? How do we find rest for our souls? We let Him teach us. And if we let Him teach us? He says we WILL find rest for our souls. I wonder if that other word for rest is the same as the first word for rest... I just want to breathe again. 

Tonight is my first online Bible study with the Sisterhood of Infertility that I signed up for. I almost didn't sign up for it, because last year God said that I'm going to be pregnant! And so, maybe I am now? And if I am now, or soon will be, then why should I join a Bible study that's studying the barren women of the Bible? Why should I join in on a group of women studying together that are infertile? That's not me anymore! Maybe I've held my breath long enough and can come back out from under this rock of infertility and pretend like it hasn't been weighing on me all these years because it's finally gone! But you know what? Those years will always have a defining role in my life. I am who I am today because I was once... And when the time comes that I can tell you all that I'm pregnant? I will have even more in common with most of those women we will be studying about, because like Sarah, and Rebecca, and Elizabeth and more, I won't stay barren. But my barrenness? That part of their story was never forgotten. My being barren for however many years will be a part of my testimony about what God can do.

And on another note, I'm reading a devotional right now, Filled by Jamie C. Finn. I've been wanting to get it for a while, and finally did. On the front cover though it says, "60 Devotions for the Foster Parent's Heart". And I want to gag on that word foster because... That's not me anymore? We don't have any foster kids anymore, and even when they were foster I never liked thinking of them as "foster", and... But that is a part of my story. And there are things that she understands from her viewpoint that many others just don't get. I follow her on Facebook and know her heart, that's why I wanted to get her book! She's dealt with so many things, many things that we never did, and many things that mirror our own heartbreaks, and.... And I almost didn't get it because of this word "foster" that I wish I could ignore. It's a part of my story. A defining part of my story. I was a foster mom for almost 10 years, and the trials and hardships and heartbreaks that we went through will always have an affect on our lives. And you know what?! The beauty on the other side will be a testimony of what God can do.

It's time for me to embrace these defining words, instead of trying to ignore that they exist. I think we probably all have words that are a part of who we are, that we wish weren't true, but regardless of our feelings, those things will always remain. We can either learn to embrace who God created us to be and choose to believe these are NOT flaws in His design, or we can ignore them and pretend these labels don't exist and strive to keep ourselves masked to the world. I'm tired of striving. So...

Hi, my name is Suzanna. My husband and I have been barren for the last 16 years. This blog was created because I needed an outlet for dealing with emotions due to infertility (I refer to this sometimes as my old infertility blog, because that's why it was created). My husband and I have adopted 3 amazing brothers through foster care, a world that I sometimes wish I still knew nothing about, but a world God wanted me to be a part of. God has given me a new heart throughout our journey as foster parents, a heart that is still learning and growing, but definitely different than it started out. Whether or not the words "barren" or "foster" currently apply to my situation in life, they will always be defining aspects of how God brought me to be who I am today. 

Missed More

Things are so very much different this time around us having foster kids, even with these same kids that we had previously. Last time they weren't school age yet, so all the kids stayed home with me. But this time the kids were older, so this time they have school teachers that will miss them, a school counselor, classmates, a bus driver, kids on the bus, and probably various other people at school who will miss them too. This time they have teachers who want to give them a going away party. They will be missed by more, because they were loved by more. 

Last time we were going to a church that didn't invest in us and our family. Last time these two were in a Sunday school class together, only those two from our family in that age group, and when they left? I wasn't asked where they went. Weeks went by before anyone asked me about my other kids who were missing. This time? This time I grieve at how many at church will miss them!!! Last week they got to be at church with us again because it was a week long visit, and visit didn't start until after church time that day. People at church were so happy to see them. Their Sunday school teacher asked if one of them could sing with her that morning, I know it's because she's missed him. The Pastor's wife, she's told me how much she'll miss his hugs. The Pastor is like a grandpa to our kiddos, and he tears up and grieves with us when they aren't around. The nursery lady misses our youngest when he's not there and wants to come visit us before they leave so she can see him again. They.... So many!!!! My daughter and my other two boys will be missed!!!! And they already are missed. They will be missed more, because they were loved by more.

It hurts to share them with others, because I don't want others to know this pain. I didn't want to join a homeschool group until all my kids were "mine". I didn't want to introduce kids that might later have a different name. I wanted to pretend for a moment that we were a normal family? That ours wasn't pieced together through years of back and forth with foster care and later mended together with adoption and.... I just wanted to present the finished quilt or whatever and not let people see the mess as it was being created. So I waited, and waited, and waited.... And then I heard of a mom's night out and thought, I could do that! I wouldn't HAVE to tell them anything. And the kids wouldn't be with me meeting anyone. And then... And then I went and I couldn't keep it secret. When I told how many kids I have, some comment was made about how great I look for having so many kids, or couldn't I keep my legs together, or man my husband must love me, I don't know, lol. I really don't remember what the comment was, I've heard a few over the years. Anyway, there it was! The easy opening for me to confess the truth about how my kids aren't biologically mine. Do I keep it secret for a little while? Do I let them think we're "normal" for right now? Do I let that mask stay, or do I reveal myself for who I really am and be ME from the very beginning with these new ladies I hope to make at least one friend with? And I told. I TOLD!!! I opened up and shared about our story and how I hoped that we'd have TPR soon and an adoption date.... And later things changed. And those new ladies? I made more than one friend that night, and now I have more people who HURT with me. More people who ask how I'm doing. More people who have seen me cry. More people who.... I got this image the other day from one of them:

I have more people in my life this time around who love my kids simply because I love my kids, who might not even really know my kids at all. Which means they will be missed more, because they were loved by more through me. 

This stuff is hard. It's hard seeing people hurt. And their hurt, makes me hurt. And I have to remind myself that it's not my fault!!! It's not my fault that they hurt. Because it feels like my fault. If I hadn't of said yes to them coming here.... if I hadn't of opened up.... if I..... But I know there's no way we would have said no to them coming here. I could have kept quiet and not opened up so much, but then my friend goes and sends me that picture and I have to remind myself that it's ok to let others hurt with me....

I've cried a lot today. Today there's been talk about going away parties. In all our years of being foster parents, with all the goodbyes we've said, we've never had a going away party for any of our kids. I mentioned that to my husband and he said, that's because this time more people are invested in our family. And I started crying again as I told him that's what this post is about that I've been working on. That they will be missed more, because they were loved by more. 

Anyway, nuff said for now, goodnight.