The Joy of Giving Birth

“What’s your dog’s name?” she asks getting out of the car. I’m riveted to the spot, staring, taking in all I can of her soft brown skin, hazel eyes and badly cut short hair. She has a ribbon in it, tied into a bow on top of her head like a Christmas present. Her clothes are old, stained and too small. “Jesse.” I say. “Would you like to pat her?” I’m too slow. She’s already off exploring the front yard like an animal let out of its cage, everywhere at once. Within seconds she has climbed a tree, used the swing and asked several questions. “Come build a marble-run,” another child suggests and soon we have bits of yellow and red plastic spread over the lounge floor. I make coffee and serve biscuits for Charlie and Judy, the elderly couple who have cared for the new arrival since she entered foster care two and a half years ago. Several weeks earlier I had read an advertisement in the local paper asking for permanent foster parents for a 10 year old high needs child who loved art and animals. Straight away I knew this child was meant for us and we applied to CYFS to become her new parents. After several home visits, lengthy phone-calls, prayer and hoping here we were –meeting our new daughter for the first time. I watched amazed as she flitted through the house, into the backyard. She noticed our housetruck and wanted to look inside. They weren’t joking when they warned us she needed to be monitored like a toddler. She was everywhere at once. I set up salt dough on the back deck and we sat around creating animals. I’m not very arty but I think she made a cat. She was keen to spend the afternoon with us and after Judy and Charlie left we headed toward Awakeri Hot Pools. She chattered and asked questions beside me the whole time. So different to the quiet, withdrawn child I’d pictured. Dropping her home afterwards felt like leaving my baby with strangers. She sat by the gate watching me go, a sad expression on her face. That was ten years ago. Since then we have been irrevocably joined by an unseen umbilical cord. We co-slept and explored the world together. My passion to love and be with my new daughter was as strong as it had been when my biological children were babies and she, in turn, clung to me like a baby koala. It was intense, all-consuming and not always healthy. She was so damaged by all that her short life had been. We soon became weighed down by her reactions to an unsafe world - Reactive Attachment Disorder, ADHD, Disassociation, Oppositional Defiance Disorder, Learning Lags and Developmental Delays – and life become a steep learning curve. Together we sort God, changed, regressed, repented, fought, struggled, loved, built memories, cemented ties and grew up. It took years for her to acknowledge me as her mum and the trust between us is still developing. It has been hard pushing her out into a waiting world - this labour has been ten difficult gut-wrenching years long and I am exhausted. Over time the cord between us wound tightly, no longer a life source but stunting her growth. She struggles to choose life and I struggle to let her go. But we are getting there. Like any birth the transforming of that small, confused, waif into the gorgeous, confident young lady of today is a miracle. I am in awe just thinking about it. She is now renting a flat a learning to live independantly. My heart fills with joy every time I see her. I am thankful she is my daughter and proud of her maturity and goodness - a testament to her tenacity and the healing power of God’s love. We’ve come a long way, the two of us, and I can’t wait to see what God has planned for us next. It is time for us to enter into the joy of our Lord. Matthew 25.21 ‘For I will turn your mourning into Joy’ – the Bible.