Connor

My wise mentor and friend, Carol Anne, explained to me that avoiding pain is not our chief purpose in life, although I find it a noble and worthy goal. Unfortunately for me, the story of Connor involves my sadness, but my grief should not overshadow this story.

Through our first foster parenting experience, we were connected with Connor last week at the hospital where he was born the week prior. Seeing him for the first time, confirmed my theory that biology is not related to love, whereas I fell straight to the bottom of my heart in love with this little 4 pound miracle. We spent Monday through Thursday with him at the hospital as often as we could, where we also developed some beautiful relationships with the nurses who claimed Connor as their peanut mascot.


We took him home on Friday where Grizz and Dot Com (30 Rock reference alert) became his entourage. The boys read to him, sang his favorite Star Wars and Transformer theme music, fetched toys for him, fed him, snuggled him, tried desperately to get as many germs on his paci as possible and watched his every move in the bath, diaper changing table and bassinet. Seth had man-time while bonding over soccer watching, pre-dawn feedings and long cuddling sessions. And I tip toed on my cloud of baby bliss, and gratefully loved on a baby without the nuisance of leaking breasts and body image issues (more than the normal ones), but all the rewards of a sweet, tiny life. At the hospital, I was fortunate enough to meet both sets of grandparents. His amazing paternal grandma and I had an in-depth conversation, so we were prepared that Connor would not be at our house for too long. But it was still heart-wrenching when I was notified on Monday, while buying groceries, that he would be heading to Grandma’s house on Tuesday. The ham lady must have thought me quite sentimental about my deli meat.


Yesterday afternoon we delivered Connor to his precious new home. (Yes, I ball and I type). They, too, are already in love with this little man, which is the huge consolation to my empty arms. I don’t know how I could survive a parting if I wasn’t positive that he was being as treasured as he deserves. Although he had a rough start, he is now completely enveloped with trustworthy, caring and loving big people.
So here’s what I’ve gathered from this amazing experience (and as you probably already noted, this entire post is indulging myself for therapy purposes): Kind people tell us often what a wonderful thing we are doing for a baby in need, but the joy that we receive from Connor is insurmountable. Many have said, “I don’t think I could handle foster parenting” (and since this was our first time, I wasn’t sure either). We were able to spend an entire week (which seemed closer to a year) with someone we completely adore. I’ll try to avoid adding Garth Brook lyrics to this post (think, “The Dance”), but my lesson is that the time we have had with Connor outshines, overshadows, overcomes the ache of my heart. The satisfaction has nothing to do with make-believing I did a noble deed, but that our family was so richly rewarded with being a part of Connor’s life.

Where do we go from here? As I said, Connor’s grandparents are incredible people and have graciously offered to keep in contact—and they are the kind of people who mean it (Grandma ALREADY e-mailed me pictures of him). Right now we are absolutely taking each day as it comes and praying for wisdom for our next step. And above all, we are praying for Connor’s glorious future and counting the blessings of being a part of his beginning.

For more videos, check out:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SqGCtXVaH1I
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dewEGz52xLg
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I6ggDXnbruM
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zGsInwppb3c