When we found out the gender of our 5th baby I was shocked by my response. I was devastated. I really thought it was a girl, a sister for Ruby. However, I held it together for the sake of my kids during the ultrasound, which was made especially difficult when little miss sis hung her head and quietly cried. Her older brothers, one on each side tried to comfort her. "You will always be the princess, THE beautiful princess of our family!" She bravely tried to smile and be happy for a healthy baby. I followed her example. When we were in the parking lot I told Kyle to take all the kids in his car so I could drive alone because I knew the waterworks were coming. I was embarrassed and ashamed at my response, I really felt like I couldn't control my feelings of disappointments. I felt like this might be my last pregnancy, my last shot at giving Ruby a sister.
I cried. More like--hysterically bawled all the way home. That night, after the kids were in bed, I asked Kyle to give me a priesthood blessing (in my religion it is a blessing of strength/comfort/healing given to people who ask in faith by those who hold the priesthood of God). I wanted to stop mourning over the loss of a daughter I never had and celebrate over the news of a healthy baby boy who I knew I would never in a million years want to trade. The only words that stuck with me from the blessing were, "in time it will make sense why not now." I didn't understand what that meant but I did feel comfort in those words but didn't really think about them again. Until we said yes to that placement of 2 girls and 1 boy. They were the first words I thought of when I hung up the phone. Ruby would have sisters--even if they were just temporary. And maybe one day she would have forever sisters. And my baby boy would have a best friend, just one year older than him.
I knew that hearing those words, and having them confirmed to me again after the call, was a tender mercy.
There have been countless tender mercies in the past few years. Some stand out above the rest.
Like when my bestest friend Nicole, who lived right across the street from me, decided to move--a million miles away (in reality it was a block). I didn't feel I could survive without her. She was one of my only anchors to sanity during those first few months of fostering. Acquaintances and strangers saw what I wanted them to see, a young mother of 8 cute kids. Period. If they asked how I was, I had had to lie, not because I wanted to, but because I knew the truth meant tears I wouldn't be able to stop. Nicole knew the truth--I was struggling. Struggling to find the strength to do what I was supposed to do day after day for my young brood. It was unspeakably hard and she was always there to help--to help me smile, help me go to doctor appointments, change diapers, watch kids so I could still volunteer at the school, continue my free music class I did for the neighborhood. She even helped me cry on her shoulder, quite literally, because of her unwanted but totally needed bear hugs. So why the heck was she allowed to move? I was so confused. I really thought she was my tender mercy, so why was she being taken away? It may seem silly to some but having someone you can exchange baby monitors with, or run across the street barefoot to tell a funny story to, can be more beneficial to ones health than the air you breath.
I was upset. And so after discussing it, Kyle and I decided to move too. I knew we wouldn't be close to her, but what was the point in staying if she was leaving? We were already having problems with foster care licensing because of our room sizes. If we moved we could find a bigger house and solve that. We started to look (kinda) but found nothing. I thought long and hard and realized moving away was an irrational response to losing my friendly neighbor. So I told my realtor to stop sending me listings. But she didn't. I think I was on an auto mailing list and they kept coming for a few weeks. I would sometimes look at them for fun, even though we were NOT moving. I had 4 requirements in order for me to even look at a house--6 bedrooms, 3 car garage, culdesac, and close to a school. One morning I looked at a listing--the first one that had all those requirements. I was actually considering calling my Realtor to ask where it was...it seemed close to my current neighborhood but the street was unfamiliar to me. As if summoned, Nicole walked in my garage door (we had a walk in policy between the two of us). I showed her the listing. She got excited immediately, "THATS BY ME!" she said. I was shocked. WHAT??? No, thats crazy and even if it was true, what were the odds that I would actually like the house enough to move into it? We had already tried to talk one of her neighbors into selling his lot right across from her new house and he declined. I didn't see how there could be another chance at being neighbors again. It seemed too good to be true. But, being the true friend that she was, SHE called the realtor and SHE set up an appointment for use to see the house before Kyle even got home from work.
The next couple weeks were absolutely a whirlwind of crazy. The last time we bought a house we happened to be on vacation during some of the negotiating and we almost didn't get the house. This time was no different! We had a vacation scheduled, and needed to sell and buy a house at the same time. We hired our two babysitters to be our realtors slaves for the next week. They packed up most everything in our house and made it market ready. When we got back from CA we didn't even recognize our home. It looked awesome, empty and no way did 8 kids live there! We were the first people to look at the house in Nicole's culdesac. It was barely on the market that morning we called. We put an offer on it almost immediately. Our house was on the market for a couple days and after one showing, we had an offer on our house as well. Some would call it fate. I call it a tender mercy.
I could go on and on...and eventually I'm sure I will. I think everyone needs these sweet mercies in their lives, especially when things are tough, and we feel alone. I'm grateful for each and every one of them in my life, especially during the year of my holy heck (the first foster care year).
Nicole with 2 of my crazy critters
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