Hard Privilege

Getting to love a child until their last breath (and beyond) is more beautiful than one can imagine. Yes, it is painful, hard, and something I don’t wish on anyone, but the honor of getting to be someone’s person right up until the end is a huge privilege. 

Even though I knew him longer, I only got to be Keven’s person for about 10 months. I got to be Jeffter’s person for a little over three and a half years. 

Many times I have questioned “If death was the end, then why did we have to fight so hard so many times?” In the last six months of Keven’s life he spent a couple weeks in the hospital and his health was up and down once he returned home. We were sure he was going to die once, but he got better before his last sickness. In Jeffter’s last three years of life he was hospitalized three times, had four or five stays in our nurse’s room here (basically the equivalent of being hospitalized), had two surgeries, and had multiple sicknesses and scares we were able to deal with here at home.

That’s hard. 

To fear your child will die multiple times is hard. Wondering if they will make it out of surgery, being completely out of options and just praying they will get better, sleeping on wooden benches while your child sleeps in the ICU, not knowing what medical advice to take when opinions differ greatly, watching the numbers on the thermometer get higher and higher with no stopping in sight, wondering how much more stomach contents your child can expel before there is nothing left, watching your child struggle to simply breathe, watching your child get poked over and over and over again after way too many unsuccessful IV starts, and so much more.

It’s all hard. Really hard.

I would do it all over again. For Keven, for Jeffter, or for any of my other kids. I don’t want to do it over again, but I would. Every annoying trip to the hospital or town to get x-rays, labs, ultra sounds, or endoscopies allowed us extra cuddles. Every sleepless night allowed us to cuddle while we watched something or to have conversations into the night. Every tear that fell in pain and sadness was so worth it. The, what felt like, millions of medicines and feeds at so many hours of the day was all worth it. 

Why did we need to fight so hard so many times for these boys’ lives just for them to die in the end? I don’t know if I will ever know the answer to that question. Maybe it would have been easier if they passed earlier at their first sickness, I don’t know. What I do know is I’m so thankful for all the extra time I was able to spend with both Keven and Jeffter in their last months because we knew their health was declining. I’m so thankful I can remember so vividly their last sponge bath, the last time I held them alive, the last time I saw them smile, the last time I said goodnight and good morning to them. I’m so thankful that so much support was given to me here to allow me to spend so much time with them in their last months and also when I was so lovingly encouraged to let someone else take a shift so I could have a break. 

I’ve been a parent for four and a half years now and have said goodbye to ten of my children. Every single goodbye is so hard. I don’t know why it seems easier to hand over my child to their adoptive parents than it is to hand a child over to their Heavenly Father. It should be the other way because Heaven has so much more to offer. Maybe it is because adoptive parents send updates and pictures and there is the possibility of video chatting or even visiting and hugging your child again. Maybe it is because dying is not what I envisioned for their future. Just because my kids are only my kids for a short time does not mean I love them any less. I think my hopes and dream and prayers for these kids are the same as if I was theirs forever. I’m pretty confident the love, advocacy, care, blood, sweat, tears, fears, hugs, and everything else are what a parent who was in it for the long haul would do. I love getting to see how my kids are growing and learning with their new families and to see pictures of all their new experiences. I miss not being able to see those for Keven and Jeffter.           

Keven and Jeffter never knew each other here on earth, but I picture them being the best of friends in heaven. I see these boys who were never able to walk or talk here on earth running hand in hand and laughing as they have silly conversations. Both of their laughs and smiles were something special. I can imagine them dancing with so much joy getting to worship at the feet of Jesus and soaking up all of His glory.

I’m so thankful for the time I’ve had with these two boys. I’m so thankful I got to be their person until they took their last breaths. I’m so thankful to have been given the opportunity to take them to each of their appointments and be there for them when they were in the hospital or in the nurse’s room here on campus. I’m so thankful that I said yes to both of these boys.I’m so thankful they got to be mine.

Caring for Keven broke me. It broke me wide open and exposed me to myself. I got to see so many things I needed to focus on to be a better me. Twice in the aftermath of the grief of Keven dying, I was at a very, very low point and could barely get out of bed for days and weeks really. Keven helped me see where I was trying to live my life on my own and not letting God show me how big He really is. 

Caring forJeffter helped heal me. Keven’s sickness and death left me with PTSD. Jeffter threw me right back into the hard parts of caring for Keven. I don’t recommend this way of healing, but Jeffter was so much of what I needed. It wasn’t easy and probably encouraged those really low points, but with support and prayers of so many people I madeit through (thank you). There were so many times in Jeffter’s life when I feared he would die. At least a couple times a year, but up until a few months ago he pulled through every time. He was a fierce fighter and his smile lit up the whole room. Jeffter helped me to remember to never give up fighting even when it is really hard. 

    I was ready when Jeffter passed away. I guess, as ready as one can be. It’s never something you are fully ready for. I know Jeffter’s life had a huge purpose for my life. I know Jeffter was loved and cherished by the woman who cared for him before he lived here. Jeffter fought so hard and he did so well. He loved so big and so deep. Everyone commented on his huge smile and how much it meant to so many people.

When Keven was sick I wished he would pass peacefully in my arms. Instead he died while I was asleep, in his chair, right next to my bed. I struggled with that for a long while. I’m so thankful Jeffter was able to be held in his last moments on this earth. Those moments of holding him tight and crying both tears of sadness because he was leaving, and tears of joy because of where he was going, will forever be a cherished memory.

Jeffter, J, JJ, J Bird, Buddy; - Thank you for letting me love you. 

*Children of the Promise has given explicit permission for the posting of photos on this site. Photos taken of children in the care of Children of the Promise are not to be posted publicly without explicit permission given by Children of the Promise.