When life just keeps giving you lemons.

Hannah delivering some of the
Blessings Bags

Have you heard the expression, "when life gives you lemons, make lemonade?" Well. It's stupid. Who wants to drink gallons and gallons of lemonade?
After the happenings of October of last year, (if you're not sure what I'm referring to, check my last blog titled "Six.") I decided it was time to do some good in the world. Hannah and I embarked on a Blessings Bags project. We collected donations and used the donations to fill bags full of goodies and delivered them to our local Pregnancy Care Center. It was our way of healing. When you're hurting, try to do some good for someone else.


Well, my dear readers, we are hurting. Really hurting. Shaun's younger brother, Nickalas, was shot and killed in his hometown of Roanoke last month. He was 17. One week away from his 18th birthday. As I sit here writing, it stop to think about what I just wrote. Shot. Killed. 17. Nickalas. It still doesn't seem real, and yet, the reality of it hits me every day.

Nickalas and their Mom

Nickalas wasn't just Shaun's younger brother. He and I were a part of a very exclusive "Cool Kids" club. He was adopted. Nickalas was never Shaun's adopted brother, he was simply his brother. One of my favorite Nickalas quotes from several years ago was when he introduced me to his chocolate lab, Abby. He said, "This is Abby, she's brown like me." And he was right. He showed me the brown crayon to prove it. He loved music and dancing. He loved Michael Jackson, playing jokes on family members, and his smile was contagious. Was. In my wildest dreams I never once imagined I'd be writing about Nickalas in the past tense. That's not how the world is supposed to work. Seventeen year olds aren't supposed to be killed. It doesn't make sense. It never will. I don't know how to explain his death to Hannah because I don't know how to explain it to myself. I see the hurt in Shaun's eyes as he tries to pick up the pieces and be there for his parents and sisters. I watched my husband stand up and speak at the funeral of his little brother. Not his adopted brother. Or his black brother. His brother.

So, in the hopes of doing something good instead of making a record breaking batch of lemonade, I'm once again embarking on a Blessings Bags project. I need to do something. The world is full of sadness, hurt, and things that are far beyond our control. This is something I can control. I can spread some joy. This project isn't going to make the hurt stop. It's not going to fill the Nickalas shaped void in the hearts of his family. What I hope it does is brighten someone's day, if even for a few minutes. I want the person who opens the bag to know that someone, somewhere cares. We all need that. We all need to know that someone cares. Know that I do. I care about each and every one of you. I thank you for taking the time to read this, and for your continued support of our adoption journey.

How you can help: My goal for this project is to honor the memory of my brother, Nickalas. To spread some joy, just liked he loved to do. I would love to be able to fill 25 bags. Or 50. As many as I can. If you'd like to help, and I'd love it if you would, please contact me. I'm asking for a donation of $20 per bag, but any amount will help and all donations will go towards filling these bags. Thank you in advance for your help.

Six

Think of one of the best days you've ever had. Now think of one of the worst. Were they close together? Years apart? For me, one of my best days and one of my worst days were six days apart. Six days. Not even a week. My world was turned upside down in less than a week. I went from the highest of highs to the lowest of lows in six days.

October 6, 2016. We got a call from our adoption agency. Strike that -  we got THE call from our adoption agency. A birth mother chose us and she was due in a few weeks. It was the call we had waited and prayed for. We were finally getting a baby. We spoke with our caseworker and she gave us information on the birth family and told us that it was a baby boy. We were beside ourselves with excitement. As soon as we got off the phone we called Hannah into our room and told her. She started crying because she was so happy. We hopped in the car and drove over to my parent's house to tell them. It was one of the best days ever. That weekend we went to Target and looked at carseats, bassinets, and baby clothes, but didn't purchase anything because we were being cautious. We talked about names. We organized and started talking about a theme for the nursery decorations.
We were so excited because his due date was within days of my brother and sister in law's due date. We talked about how crazy it was going to be with two babies. Two babies for Thanksgiving. Two babies for Christmas. It was as if everything was falling into place exactly like it was supposed to.

Then, October 13. Shaun's at work and I'm home with Hannah. I get another call from our agency. The baby was born and the birth mom left the hospital without signing an adoption plan. The baby will be taken into DSS custody upon his release from the hospital. She would try to contact the birth mother, holding on to hope that as long as he was in the hospital there was still a chance she could make an adoption plan, but it was a long shot. Just like that everything changed. The world crashed around me. I went from the ultimate excitement to a pain I didn't think was possible. We always knew that there was a risk of a birthmother changing her mind. It's always there in the back of your mind, but knowing it didn't prepare us for the pain of it happening. Actual physical pain. Curled in a ball on the floor sobbing kind of pain. I got off the phone and realized that I had to tell Shaun and Hannah. And my parents. How in the world was I going to tell Hannah that she wasn't getting the little brother she was so excited for? I tried to compose myself as best as I could and I called her into the living room. I'll never forget seeing my sweet, innocent little girl crumble to the floor in tears, her whole body shaking as I told her. She kept asking "why?" and it was something I couldn't answer. I then had to call Shaun and tell him. I still don't understand why it hurt so much to lose someone we never met. Then I think about him. For six days, I had a son. For six days, Hannah had a little brother. I felt like I had lost a piece of myself. Like I was living in a horrible nightmare that I couldn't wake up from. We didn't tell anyone outside of our family that we were getting a baby, so no one knew. As hard as it was to keep the happy secret, it was even worse to keep the horrible one. I had to pretend that everything was normal. I had to pretend that my heart wasn't broken into a million pieces. People would ask "So, how's the adoption going? Anything new?" I'd just smile and say, "not yet, still waiting." Every time I'd reply, the weight of our loss came back upon me. I thought about that little boy every day. Praying that he was ok. Wishing that he knew that for six days, he had a family that loved him. For six days he had a big sister. For six days he had the happiest parents on the planet. I wondered if he was ok. If he was loved.

Six months went by. The pain lessened, life went on, I got to meet my beautiful and amazing niece. Still, in the quiet of night, or a random time during the day, I'd think of our almost little boy. I'd wonder if he was smiling like my niece. If he could roll over, or sit up. I hoped he was happy, loved.
Then six weeks ago I got an email. The birth mom had contacted the agency and wanted to make an adoption plan. The baby was in DSS custody, so it would be difficult for the agency to get involved with his placement. The email asked if we were interested in pursuing this. We agreed, but said that if his current foster parents were planning on adopting him, we wouldn't try to pull him from that situation. We weren't going to fight DSS, or take him from the only parents he's ever known. Our caseworker said that she'd get in touch with her attorney and they would look into his situation. I don't think I can adequately put into words the anxiety of waiting to find out if this little boy was meant to be ours. Shaun and I didn't tell anyone. Not Hannah, not Mom. We weren't going to put them through the stress or heartbreak of another failure. So, we dealt with it quietly and alone. Finally, after six weeks of anxiety, we spoke with the attorney and decided that based on the information we had, the emotional and financial risk of pursuing this further wasn't something we are comfortable with. We aren't wiling to risk the money that people have given to us and raised for us. If we attempted a legal battle with DSS and lost, we would lose the money we have for our adoption and that would be the end. If we lost, then we not only lost the money that was so generously given to us, but we would lose the chance of ever adopting. I couldn't fathom telling Hannah that it was never going to happen, or telling those that helped us that we lost the money. We made this decision a week ago. Not a second goes by that I don't wonder if we made the right choice, but it was our only choice. I will never stop praying for our almost little boy. I will always think of him and wonder if he's ok, if he's loved, if he's happy.

Now what? Now we continue waiting. We wait for another birth mother to choose us. If that happens, we will do things differently. We won't tell Hannah until papers have been signed. We won't tell anyone. I can't put Hannah through the heartbreak again. I won't. So, we wait. We wait for another phone call. We wait, this time a little more guarded, a little less optimistic and a little more realistic.

Let's Do Some Good!

While we wait...and wait...and wait for "that" phone call, I wanted to make you, dear readers, aware of another cause that's near and dear to our hearts. The East Lincoln Pregnancy Care Center. The PCC helps women in all stages of pregnancy, and all costs are covered. For more information on the PCC, click here!

As you know, my hubby, Shaun, and three of his friends are the brains and voices behind the Laymen's Cup Podcast. Wait...you didn't know that? They're like famous and everything! Want more info on the super famous Laymen? Click here!  On your smart phone there is a podcast app - seriously! I didn't know either! Once you find the podcast app, search for Laymen's Cup and you can download to your heart's content! In the episode coming out this Monday (Feb 20.) They discuss the PCC with the Director and two of the board members. Even if you're not into a Theology Podcast - this is one you'll want to check out.

They discuss the upcoming annual fundraiser banquet. The Laymen and their wives (that's me!) will be attending for the second year in a row. We get to get dressed up and have a night out! Last year I wore heels and survived to tell about it!  Why am I telling you this? Well, one, because it's my blog and I can, but most importantly, I need your help! I would love to help gather donations from you - my beloved readers - and deliver them the night of the banquet.

There are several ways you can help. First, if you'd like to make a donation, in any amount, you can send it to me via paypal. In order to avoid fees, send it friends and family - because we're all friends, right? To send a donation via paypal - click here and select send. Then you can enter my email address: annmfier@gmail.com.

Another way you can help is by shopping my Jamberry fundraiser. You can purchase nail wraps, lacquers and hand care products, or, if you'd like, you can purchase a gift card. The gift card will be used to purchase items for the clients of the PCC. In addition, all commission earned from this fundraiser will be donated to the PCC. For my Jamberry link, Click Here!
If you purchase a gift card you'd like to donate, please email me at annmfier@gmail.com and include the gift card code you receive in your email.

Finally, please pray. Pray for the staff and volunteers of the center as they minister to the community. Pray for the clients of the center, and lastly pray for us. Waiting - it stinks. But, hopefully we can do some good while we wait for the phone call that will change our lives (and sleeping patterns!)

Thank you for reading. It's humbling to know that you take the time out of your day to read my ramblings!

Back in the day

29 years ago today I arrived in the loving arms of my parents. Ok, maybe it wasn't 29 years ago, but since I am now perpetually 29, that's the number I'm going with. That's not the point. The point is that this is the anniversary of the day I met my family. Back in the day - many, many, years ago, adoption was done Old School. Not baby in a basket down the river old, but old. Guess that would be more Old Testament than Old School, but I digress...  

My mom and I. 

On that frigid Ohio evening, my parent's lawyer, Dan, and the social worker, drove from the small town we lived in to Akron, realized they had the wrong paperwork, drove back to our town, then back to Akron. They sprung me from the hospital and drove the 3 hours back home. Everyone met at the lawyer's house and I got to meet my parents for the first time. I don't remember any of this, of course, being all of three days old at the time, but I'm told it was quite an exciting day. 

My Dad and I.

Things have changed in the adoption world in the last 29* (ahem...) years. More paperwork, more money, more red tape, more...more. We have finished our homestudy update, once more we "seem" mentally and emotionally stable enough to adopt a baby. Now, we get to resume the super fun, super fantastic, super "make you want to scream" tediousness of waiting. Waiting for a phone call. Waiting to hear that we have been chosen by a birth mother. No, I don't jump every time the phone rings. Thank goodness for caller ID. Everyone asks if we are ready. My answer is always the same. We are as ready as we can get. 

Something I've learned during this long, long, long process is that I am still not a patient person. Waiting for God's timing is taking forever. We just keep hoping, keep waiting, and waiting, and know that His timing will be perfect...eventually!