Yesterday (and all this week) are designated times when mothers who have miscarried, delivered stillborns, or experienced the death of an infant, pause to remember those children.
Many women lit candles last night in honor of their babies who have passed. We don’t light candles in our home for obvious reasons (one of those reasons rhymes with “Rasco”), but I often remember the three unnamed babies we lost to miscarriages in 2010.
Another loss that isn’t shared by a large number of people, is the loss we experienced through failed adoption. We regularly talk about “Baby I”, the sweet little man we were set to adopt in April of 2011. Almost weekly, we drive past his house.
Yesterday, as I was taking Nasko to a therapy appointment, we turned onto the street where Baby I’s family still lives. As we rounded the corner, Nasko said, “Baby I’s house. Pray. Dear God. Baby I. Love Jesus. Amen.”
A sob caught in my throat as I realized what had just taken place. Nasko, my adopted son, was praying for the child I would never get to parent; a child he would never meet. In Nasko’s limited vocabulary and understanding, he was echoing the prayer I always pray as we drive past Baby I’s house — a prayer that Baby I might come to have a relationship with The Lord.
You see, despite the heartache and the tears on that rainy day in April of 2011, I handed Baby I over to God when I handed him to his birth mother for the last time.
I knew that she was wavering in her decision to have us parent him. I knew she was being pulled by her family to sever the adoption plan. And despite the fact that it wouldn’t be my job to kiss Baby I’s bruises, or to change his diapers, or to rock him to sleep, I promised God that I would continue to fulfill the most important role as his parent, despite what any legal documents said about my status — I would pray for his salvation. I specifically asked God to place Baby I in the home where he would have the best opportunity for a relationship with Christ.
Of course, I had hoped that home would be mine; we are raising our boys to know and love God, but that does not mean they will have a relationship with Him. A child can receive the best biblical instruction, and still not KNOW their savior.
When the decision was made that Baby I’s birth mother would parent him, I trusted that God had His hand in the decision, and I believe that He will faithfully draw I to Himself. And I have not stopped praying.
Obviously, my children are now echoing this prayer. They are praying for their brother, not a sibling, but a future brother in Christ. I maintain faith that these boys will some day be united in heaven as brothers who share a father — our Heavenly Father.
This week, please remember all of those affected by infant loss. Those of us who have experienced the loss remember each of our children; it is healing to talk about them. Also, please pray for those children who have been affected by failed adoptions. And please pray for Baby I to come to a relationship with his Heavenly Father.