Breaking Point

Friday night we argued so badly about what we should do, versus what we wanted to do. Or, more clearly, what we didn't want to do, which was be burdened by the needs of another baby. I was so mad at Scott I could hardly breathe. His tension with me was pretty high as well. I wanted one thing, then immediately went the other direction. It was a very literal battle playing out within ourselves and between each other. It came down to three things for me.

1- If we agreed that God's timing was perfect in how and when He brought us each of our three boys, then who were we to say His timing was less than perfect this time.

2- What if God brought her here to us because of her needs? What if He knew we would provide all we could for her?

3- What if He brought her to us because He knew she would learn about Jesus here?

Was it worth it to me, to be inconvenienced and burdened by her, in order for her to hear the message of Jesus Christ and learn of His saving grace?

I'm not sure how the answer could ever be no. But still....and this is a hard thing to the same breath, I wondered, could we give her all of that if we never learned to love her. Truly love. The "you are mine and I am yours" kind of love that brings out the mama tiger in us women. When you know you could tear down a wall if it was the only way to get to your child. When the sound of that cry means more to you then just a noise. It's a cry for mommy and the response is a desire to answer. What if that love never happened?

So we 'slept', or tossed around in irritated slumber, that night. Scott decided by morning that if her being here was going to cause such emotional strife, it was best if she did not stay. Being that it was Saturday now, we decided to make the call first thing Monday morning. It was agonizing. I was afraid if I insisted she stayed, that Scott would resent me forever,  while simultaneously, I feared that if she left, I would resent him. Saturday is a blur. It came and went, most likely, with more of the same conversations we had been having all week.

Meanwhile, our boys. They were finally over the strep and viruses that had them down that week. Fevers and moods were back to normal and without paying it much mind, they had become quite the little helpers. They took turns helping her hold her bottle. They laid on the blanket with her, rolling and patting her. They made faces and talked with her, tickled her feet and dangled toys for her to see. They jumped right up when she cried to see what she needed, and alerted me immediately of her tears. In a weeks time, they had become protective, supportive, loving big brothers.

This brought a new question to mind that night....what will we tell the boys?