Birthday Boy

My baby boy has a birthday this week. He's turning seven. What in the world? How did that happen? We had court on his fourth birthday. Which means next year we will have had him for half of his life. Of course on the other hand, I don't remember life before Micah.

7 years old. And he's starting 1st grade in the fall. I'm not ready for this. I want more baby years. I want his baby years.

This is the only baby picture I have. The next one after this, he's standing. And they didn't give me that picture, I had to take a picture of that picture from their orphanage album. I still don't know how much he weighed at birth, if he was premature, or if there were any complications. Someone thought he was at the hospital for 4 months, but for all we know, that was lost in translation. It could have been four weeks or even four days. We have no idea. I don't know when he started sitting up. I don't know when he started walking. I do know he was in and out of the hospital for respiratory illnesses but the doctor at Vanderbilt said that it was more likely because he was aspirating. Orphanages there are known for cutting huge holes in the bottle nipples so the babies will eat faster. No wonder he inhales his food. We also know that once he was in a toddler bed, they made him sleep on his back with his hands behind his head every night. Crowd control. Poor baby.

I want his baby years. I want to reach through time and undo all of that.

I laid in bed the other night wondering why God didn't have us go get Micah right away. Why let him stay in that orphanage, hidden, for four years? What would he be like if he had the love of a Mommy to nurture him from birth? What if he'd had a strong, warm Daddy to squeeze him tight? What if he had early intervention to help him make sounds in his early months? What if he'd had more than just his basic needs met?

Maybe his teeth would never have rotted, which means he never would have trained his brain that it hurts to chew, which means he wouldn't try to swallow his food whole, which means he wouldn't have the eating problems he has today. (Which seem to be getting worse, by the way.)

Maybe he wouldn't have this strong urge to escape and wander. (Which is also just as bad.)

Maybe he's be talking. *sigh*

Maybe, maybe, maybe....

But when Micah was born on the other side of the world, I was 37 weeks pregnant with Emily. What a strange thought. If you'd told me then what my life would look like now, I wouldn't have believed you. I wasn't ready then.

But why did Micah have to wait in an orphanage just because I wasn't ready? Or Jake wasn't ready?

Why, why, why...

But, but, but...

If only, if only, if only...

These thoughts have crossed my mind several times in the last three years. But I have to stop myself. Because in my heart of hearts I know... that I don't have to know. I could drive myself crazy with the maybe's, the why's, the but's and the if only's in all kinds of areas of life. At the end of the day I have to put it all down and trust. He knows. And that's enough.

For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, says the Lord, thoughts of peace and not of evil, to give you a future and a hope. (Jer. 29:11)


...being confident of this very thing, that He who has begun a good work in you will complete it until the day of Jesus Christ (Phil. 1:6)


But now, thus says the LORD, who created you, O Jacob, And He who formed you, O Israel: “Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by your name; You are Mine. (Isa. 43:1)

Happy Birthday Pavel Micah. You are getting so big! You are a sweet boy with a funny sense of humor. Full of busy energy and always wanting to work, help and play.

You are loved so much more than you'll ever know. I'm so glad I get to be your Mommy.