Not helpful…

What not to say to someone who has either a.) miscarried or is b.) adopting…
Unfortunately, I tend to hear comments in both these categories. Let’s start with category A… miscarriage.
Never say:

• It’s God’s will. – Okay, I know that this may or may not be true, but it just isn’t helpful. God is loving and does not put His children through this just because. He may allow it for a greater purpose, because He sees what lies ahead, but I certainly don’t think He wills a pregnancy and consequently ends it. Just like a parent wouldn’t put a kid in a tree house or on a bike without training wheels and push them off just so they can learn the lesson from breaking an arm. You may allow the natural consequences, but you don’t force the pain.
• You can always have another. – Duh. This is by far one of the dumbest things. I know that. Let me go hit your dog with my car and tell you that. From the moment knowledge of that little life is growing, there’s a bond. There’s love. There’s attachment. There’s visions of curls and eyelashes and little toe nails. And demeaning that loss is grossly stupid of a supposed well wisher.
• You can always adopt.- Like those who go through infertility (read: me), those of us who lose a child (read:me) ache the loss of the ability to control our own bodies- to use our reproductive systems the way they are “supposed” to work. We hurt from the fact that something isn’t working how it is supposed to. Plus, it’s not always about the baby. It’s grieving the process. The pregnancy experience. Labor and delivery. The whole thing. Not  to mention, for those of us who adopt (read: me), that comment takes a whole new level of offense. Adoption is not a lesser choice. This makes it sound like the “next best thing”- like picking Gain on the laundry aisle when you really wanted Tide. So hurtful. Adoption is different. Not the next best thing.
• At least it was early.- I don’t care how far along you are, losing a child hurts. Period.

I know that’s just scratching the surface of it, but those are the main ones that get to me, the ones that make me force a smile and walk away before I show a side I shouldn’t. Now… Category B. Adoption.

• Where’s her real mom? – You’re looking at her, Chump. I know, I know. You mean biological. But what real insinuates is that I’m fake, you know, pretend. And it doesn’t roll like that. Be factual. Biological, natural, first- those are all perfectly factual ways to describe birthparents. Use correct terms, because your words are more loaded than you can understand, and though it might just seem like I’m being sensitive, it goes so much deeper than your curious conversation.
• How much did she cost? – It’s one thing to inquire into the financial burden of adopting if you feel like it might be something you are called to do. But implying that an adopted child was purchased like you buy shoes is down right ignorant and really mean.
• She looks like she could be your own! – She IS MY OWN! See the first bullet point, please. She’s mine, I’m hers. And yes, she does ironically favor me and her father. It’s totally okay to point out the fact, in fact, we all agree- it’s cool!- but choose your words carefully.

There are many other lists like this out there, but I just needed to vent my personal peeves as conversations in my life tend to keep drudging these up. And being someone who deals with infertility AND recurrent miscarriages AND adoption… I just seem to get it all around when it comes to tread-carefully-when-discussing subjects. But, if by chance you do use one of these frustrating comments, I won’t be angry for long. Because so many people don’t get it- it’s not malice, it’s ignorance. If you’re reading this and you got married, had a baby, and life went on as typical, know that there is a very real part of me that envies that. That ability to bluntly put it, marry, conceive when you’re ready, and build a family. It is emotionally exhausting to work and work to get pregnant and have so many negative tests, so much money spent, so much anxiety on that rollercoaster, and miscarriage is like a freefall. Adoption is a similarly scary journey- like a road trip in a car with no brakes. And here we are going through ALL of it. Simultaneously.  I don’t mean to be sensitive. I’m strong enough to “grow a pair” and deal with ignorant comments like the ones I listed. It just adds to the wear and tear, though, and it helps to have more build-ups than break-downs while you’re on these paths. I know it’s all going to be worth it in the end, and I know that we are supported, no matter how many times I hear those comments that make me cringe. We are still blessed. In fact, the more I type the more I feel kinda lucky that our faith and our marriage is strong enough to battle these foes, to hold on to hope, and to stay fearless. He has not brought us to something we can’t handle. He gives us fortitude to press forward, annoying & ignorant comments or not.

Why I won’t teach forever.

When I’m off of school (either for a holiday or for personal leave such as recently), I rarely get that “oh, I’m ready to go back” feeling of missing it that some describe. Often, I wonder about teaching, wondering if I could ever find that I-missed-this feeling. For long, I thought that was simply because I  was at a “rough” school, where I didn’t always feel safe or supported. I thought in the right environment, of course, I’d finally feel that feeling. Nah. Even at what I’d argue is one of the best schools to work in, I don’t feel that. And it dawned on me why. It’s not the climate that I don’t like- it’s the job itself. Teaching is not the same thing it used to be. One spin down the headlines of the local news, one scroll down Twitter or Facebook, and it slaps you in the face. teaching is not safe. Period. It’s now in that same category as police officers and firefighters and other people who risk life and limb for penny wages.  As a teacher, you are CONSTANTLY judged. Is your teaching style justified by research? Are you meeting the diverse needs of your students? Are you implementing Common Core? Are you following the criterion for 21st century learning?  Now, all of that wouldn’t be so bad if left into that context, however, teaching goes so much deeper. I don’t mind the stress of grading papers, staying abreast of current research, differentiating my instruction… any of that. I am organized, efficient, and I do a dang good job. I love my kids and work hard. But what bothers me is that my every movement is judged. What stores you frequent and what you purchase. Your character is always one accusation away from irreparable harm. One ticked off kid, one infuriated parent away from total annihilation. Even when I get to work at 6:45 and leave at 5:00 or 6:00 most days, not returning that ever so important email or following up on that most pressing issue is ammo for an attack against me as a professional. Who cares that I have a husband and a child and a family, a church, a hobby, a LIFE? I must eat-sleep-and-breathe each child’s problems, intellectually, physically, any issue at home, you name it.Then, in the midst of this, you are expected to be a counselor, a therapist, at any moment’s notice. If a student is bullied, or even suspected of it, we are responsible for action. If a student is having dangerous thoughts, it is up to us, not the parent, to investigate. Say nothing? We are responsible. Say the wrong thing? We are responsible. And then, when the unthinkable happens, we are expected to talk down shooters, jump in front of gunmen. Heck, it were even headlines debating the need to have armed teachers wielding weapons to protect the children they teach. What is this?! You are constantly on the defense. Every single action you take is judged. And sometimes you are damned if you do and damned if you don’t. You can follow every step, every action, each protocol, and things still blow up, and it’s your fault. And if you get support to back you up that you acted as professional and followed said protocol, you’re pretty dang lucky, THAT day. I wanted to teach. Not be a police officer, therapist, or politician. I wanted to teach. And teaching is the last thing a teacher is allowed to focus on in this new reality. I am not superwoman. I don’t have a 6th sense to the emotional needs of each of the near 100 kids I interact with daily, though I try. I can’t fix scheduling problems, change administrative decisions, provide resources that aren’t available, and I can’t make a student who is unwilling to learn succeed. I can’t make a turnip bleed. I can’t be a I do try though. Again, I love the school where I work now, and for now, I will continue to go to school each day and do my very best to help my students learn and grow. For now, I will work and work hard at educating and loving the students in my room, My school is a great place to be, But I do find peace in knowing that I won’t teach forever, that one day I’ll turn in my key and back up my books and I’ll dust my hands off and leave the name tag behind, And it’s not because I’ve changed my mind. I didn’t change. My profession changed. I will always be a teacher in my heart. Sadly, though, teachers are not what we are allowed to be.

I have been in bed.

For three days. Only one night did the tears fall. I’m just too…. I don’t know… to cry now. It seems silly to cry. It seems better to sleep. Makinzy hasn’t handled this well, and it’s made me want to hide under the sheets even more. She seems mad and sad (at me) and particular resentful that I am not up to doing the normal things. So it’s been just easier to rest. But today is the last day I’m home to do just that, so I’ve lugged myself out of bed and demanding that I join the land of the living. Last time, I tried cupcakes, and it was worthless. I am sure they won’t help me grieve. They won’t cheer me up. But it’s practice for moving forward. Having been in this dark place before, I know how easy it is to get lost in the dark, and to let darkness become the new normal. so if anything, I am working hard to keep moving. To keep living in light. To cling to hope and faith when I don’t want to. So. Cupcakes.

Hard times come again no more.

I totally ripped that title from an episode of Parenthood.

But… it suits the situation.

This will be a very difficult week.

You see, we’ve had a secret.

Back in early December, we found out we were pregnant again. And thrilled. And not a bit of infertility treatment was involved. No pills. No injectables. Nothing. Totally on our own. We were ecstatic. But once you’ve miscarried once, pregnancy also brings a sense of fear… worry that you may go down that road again.

So, we waited.

The first ultrasound, in the words of the tech, was beautiful. Perfect. The OB felt sure we were looking at a viable pregnancy this time. I felt confident. My coworkers were very excited to cover my classes as I ran back and forth to the bathroom, either from a full bladder or sneak attack of nausea, and our parents were over the moon and busting to tell everyone. All seemed well.

The next ultrasound gave us the shock we didn’t see coming. No pictures. No heartbeat. No comment from the tech, other than “the doctor will talk with you in a few minutes.” It wasn’t good, and we knew it. Later on, blood work, a follow up ultrasound, as well as a pelvic exam of my uterus all confirmed his worries- another miscarriage.

In the days since, we’ve shared this with our immediate family, Sunday school class, and immediate coworkers- those we interact with on a daily basis. And, we’ve told Makinzy, who said it best when she sadly muttered, “I just don’t understand why.” She was so disappointed as she has so desperately desired a little brother or sister.
We don’t understand, but we trust. We cling to faith. We know He has plans bigger and more wonderful than we can fathom, and while this…SUCKS… He feels our hurt, gives us peace and hope, and knows the beginning and the end.

Thanks for praying for us.

Hello!

Long time to see!

Hi, blog. It’s me. I know. I suck. Life is crazy. I can barely write a lesson plan much less anything else.

So, updates (in short) :
- School started and I love my job! My kids are sweet and smart and parents are involved in the best ways (albeit a few in the not-so-great ways, too), admin is wonderfully supportive, and the whole atmosphere is fantastic. Only downfall? Still 30 minutes away (other direction from last job!) and will be quite the commute if and when we are able to move.
-Speaking of which, we’ve been working with a realtor this fall to get the house on the market. We need land! Space to run free! 1 acre is not nearly enough for two county bumpkins and a growing family.
-On Sept. 7, my dad was in a motorcycle wreck. He was literally hit broad-side by a deer and shattered his leg. It’s been a long road. We were so fortunate that it wasn’t worse and that it happened very very close to my parents’ house. He has a lot of recovery still to go and is still in a wheelchair and of course, out of work. Again, we are just holding on to the gratitude that he is okay!
-In November,  got a new car! Yay third row seats! I feel like a legit soccer mom now. ;)
-Mak’s biomom chose not to relinquish her rights as we had discussed and so we have a trial date set for the new year. Not so fun. We really want a positive relationship with her (as well as other members of that family) but we’re being met with some resistance. We simply request 1) a clean drug test, 2) a job, 3) paying for your own way (rent, etc.) to demonstrate an attempt at a responsible adulthood and to get to know us by contacting us on regular basis. We’re prayerful and hopeful that all will work out. After all, what God has ordained, we can’t change, and it has been very clear that Mak’s adoption heaven-lead. She continues to grow and change and blossom in ways I can’t verbalize. She makes me so proud!
-Speaking of which, she accepted Christ in August and was baptized this fall! AMAZING!  So proud of her mature choices! There’s been a few other situations with her birth family that has complicated things, but again, we know God’s plans are for the best, and we maintain a desire to keep her birth connections, provided those adults are show they are committed to being a good influence on her.
-With everything that happened this fall with Daddy, plus with everything else, we’ve kind of put foster care on hold. I still think it’s something we are meant to do, eventually, just life is a little crazy now.
-The tragedy in Connecticut is mind-consumingly sad. It’s heartbreaking. I keep reading about it online, searching for some way to make sense of it, but of course, that’s impossible. You can’t make sense of the senseless.
-I’m tired. A lot. But it’s okay. Christmas is coming and once the presents are opened, it should be a little easier to rest.

All in all, things are well and we are feeling very blessed. God has had His hands on us, protecting us and guiding us. I’m so grateful for all the things He has done for my family. As Christmas comes (days away I have yet to shop…. eek.), I keep remembering that it’s the time together, memories made, and the celebration of the birth of our Savior that makes it all so special!

*Fall family pictures taken by a former coworker of mine. :)

Oh, August… we meet again.

AHHHH! It’s hereeee. August. The worst month of the year. Even crazier now with a school age child. So here’s the mandatory update: Summer has rocked. Cape San Blas, Florida was amazing. We went in July and had the most relaxing time. It was beautiful. Scalloping, snorkeling, horsebackriding, swimming, canoeing, fishing, and more. No crowds, no fuss. And simply gorgeous.

Chilling out on the quiet beach! <3

Massive sand dunes- 30 ft high!

Loved visiting lighthouses!

Horsbackriding was amazing!
Learning at the Estuary Nature Center in Eastpoint


Hubs got back to town and got a new job. Not kidding. He’s moving to the next county teach at a really awesome elementary school in the district he grew up in, with some fantastic coworkers who happen to be a part of our church family. It is a thriving place with firm leadership. It’s the kind of school teachers want to work in, and a place we are happy for our daughter to attend. My building at school was finally opened and in the midst of rearranging, my class is finally taking shape. I’m nervous about a new school, but for once, I’m feeling that back-to-school excitement that I have been missing. I think it’s going to be awesome teaching at a place like MICS (abbreviation for the charter school I now call home.) Life has been moving so fast, and Mak is growing so quickly (literally before our eyes), I can’t get time to clean, scrapbook, craft, plan, much less write!
Here’s the work in progress:

Everything is in hyper speed. She’s processing more and more. I think since her bday was one of the last times she spent time with biomom, it’s upcoming festivities are stirring feelings in her. I can’t believe she’s going to be 8 in a month! What a year it’s been. Sometimes lately  she says little hurtful things I think to test the water. Like today, she randomly asked about what we eat on Thanksgiving (she has had Turkey Day with us, so this question was odd) and I replied that I like to bake a chicken instead of turkey because it is more moist to me. She retorted, “Well, I like Mommy (Insert Biomom’s first name)’s chicken.” Number 1, I happen to know that Biomom never baked a chicken before. Much less for Thanksgiving. I doubt M remembers the last Thanksgiving they had together. So this a full-on fabrication. Number 2, I know this is her testing me. I let it go. But what I didn’t let go was the other day, I took her shopping with me and when I heard her singing a song we don’t approve of and asked her to sing something different, she harrumphed and said “I miss my other mommy” in a snarky way. I wasn’t taken aback by the fact that she said that, but by the when and the way it was said. I paused and looked at her.  I said, quietly, and calmly, “I understand you miss her. That is perfectly okay, baby. Then I looked at her and asked, what about her exactly do you miss?” and she couldn’t answer. I asked her then very calmly to think about what life was like back then. I paused to let her think and then asked if that was what she missed, and she said no. Then I said, again, that I understood her missing her and reassured her that that was okay, but how she expressed that was a little hurtful. Then I said, “Do you remember the baby that was growing in my belly that died?” and she said yes. “Well, what if every time you did something that I did not like I said ‘I miss my other baby.’ in that same tone you just had?” Would that hurt your feelings?” She got big eyed and nodded. “Do you understand that I love that baby AND you, and no matter what you do, nothing changed my love for you? She nodded. “Well, baby girl, you need to remember that your heart is big enough to love me AND (Biomom’s name) too. It is okay to miss her and wonder about her, to love her, and to be mad at her all at the same time, but it is not okay to say those things like that just to be hurtful. There is a difference.”  I hope I was delicate enough, but firm enough to let her know that I am ready for the I-hate-yous and the you’re-not-my-real-mom' moments that I am sure we will face. I know she said that just because she was mad that I didn’t want her singing the inappropriate song. I know she will pull this when she gets angry. I will love her through it and I will not back down. She will know that unlike her “other mommy,” I don’t go away. And I don’t make promises I won’t keep. That and faith will get us through. She’s going to push hard, but I am prayerfully ready.

In other news, we are moving right along in plans for a foster child. We have shared the plan with Mak and she is somewhere between leery and excited. She can’t seem to grasp that this has nothing to do with her. In her mind, DSS means another life change for her. But she’s getting it. We told her about the time she spent staying with the pastor and his family was similar to what we’d be doing, and that it would give her someone to play with and help welcome like the pastor and his wife’s three kids did for her. She kind of got it and liked the idea of helping acclimate another kid into our family system and welcoming them into our home as her job. Our interviews are done and we are set to get our first child sometime around Thanksgiving to Christmas, with the expectation that the child will be between the ages of 0-5. We have requested not to placed with kids with histories of sexual abuse or violence for Mak’s sake, and are kinda hoping for a boy. We got our fire inspection done (and PASSED), had our fingerprinting and background checks, completed all paperwork, and our social worker should be here to finish the home study tomorrow morning (needless to say today was spent cleaning like a mad-woman), and all that will be left will be physicals once our new health care plans kick in in September (remember, new jobs… thus, new health care plans and such). After that, it’s just a waiting game for the state. Excited, nervous. Such emotions. In so many ways, I feel like last fall… the calm before the storm. August is such and angsty month. I guess it always will. Either way, I look forward to the upcoming school year. I know I will be in awe of the amazing things that God leads us to and through during this school year. Can’t wait to take that first June afternoon to sit still and admire all the changes and growth!

An open letter regarding an “open” adoption from an open heart.

My daughter’s biological mom got our address.
Nevermind how. That’s a whole ‘nother post. it wasn’t supposed to be given to her until we were ready, but alas. Regardless, we got a letter, and she wants me to write back, which I‘d been planning to do for sometime, just waiting on the right time and the right words. Sigh… It’s gonna be long and teary, but…
Here goes:

Dear-Name-,

I’ve been hoping to write you for a while now, but it has been hard to find a quiet moment to sit down and pour out all that needs to be said. Makinzy is doing great. She has grown so much, both physically and emotionally. She is not the same little girl she was in the fall. She is blossoming like a flower. She’s constantly smiling and singing. She has done so well in school, and her behavior is like night and day. I’m so proud of her and so in love. She knows where you are and wants you to get better. She tells me about things she has done with you before and things she’s seen, both good and bad. She told me not too long ago that she hated you and your mom and I hugged her and told her not to hate, but it was okay to be angry, but she needed to know that you love her and always have and always will, even if you made some bad choices along the way. I try to always explain to her that even if you made mistakes, you do love her and always have. When I told her that, she cried and I held her for a long time. I tell you all of this, not to make you upset, but because I want you to know that we are ALWAYS reminding her that you do love her and miss her. I want her to have a good sense of identity- I don’t want to push you out of her life because you are her biological mother and part of you will always be a part of her, regardless of what happens in her life, though, it is up to you as to what that looks like.
I imagine you as her cheerleader as she grows up, sending her encouragement and supporting her, backing us up as her mother and father, and reminding her of all the amazing things she can do and become. You mentioned your own mom in your letter, and you said that you always said you wouldn’t be like her. Well, you’re not. By giving Makinzy us, you are giving her something your mother never did for you. You had your grandfather, yes, and as wonderful and amazing as he is, he is a grandparent, not a mother or father. Children need parents. And, you are making an effort to change, and that is huge. And you are making progress, which is awesome. But you aren’t there quite yet. You have only been there a few months and it is a two year program. Plus, the real evidence that you have done it will be after you complete it. And I say all this with love- we believe in you, and we want you to do great. In your letter, you said to give you a chance, and we most certainly will. You have a great chance ahead of you right now as you complete this program. When you get yourself a job, a place to live that you are paying for yourself, and consistently keeping yourself clean, you will be someone Makinzy can look up to. That’s when we can start working on building a stronger relationship.
We need to talk also about the letters you’ve sent to her. When you call us by name and sign your letters “Mommy” it is confusing for her. She knows we are Mommy and Daddy now, and you are -Name-, and when it’s worded the other way around, it seems like we are just temporary babysitters until you get out, and that’s not what she needs to hear, because that’s not the case. We know that we are all on the same side… Makinzy’s. Makinzy knows we are forever. She can’t and won’t be let down again. When you are writing to her, remind her of how much we ALL love her, and tell her what you are learning. Tell her who you want to be for her so that one day she can be proud of you. She needs to know those things. Tell her what you want for her- a family that will be there for her. Even after you get out, things will be hard, and it will be for a long time. Fighting against doing the things you’ve done in the past will be a full-time job. We want to be encouragement to you as you fight that battle. We want you to see that you have given Makinzy a chance to break the cycle. Just as you swore you’d never be like your mother, Makinzy has a lot of emotions to work out, too. All the things you went through as a child with your own mother has a big chance of becoming the same things Makinzy deals with as young girl growing up, but by giving her parents and an even bigger family, you are giving her more support and more love than you can imagine and that helps stop her from making the same mistakes. I know it has to be so very hard, and I can’t say I know how it is, because I don’t. The closest pain I know is the loss I felt when we had our miscarriage, but, of course, I know that’s different in many ways. But I can say with confidence that you are doing the right thing for her, and should be proud of yourself for doing so. Your grandparents love you too, and there is nothing they want more than to see you succeed in this. You have a lot of people praying for you, including us. We are in this together for Makinzy’s sake. In the end, it all comes down to what’s best for her because we all love her. I can’t tell you how much love we have for her. She’s our pride and joy. She' lights up whenever Jake enters the room and always wants to be his helper. The way they play and laugh together will melt your heart. I know you gave birth to her, but I couldn’t love her anymore than if I did. At night, we snuggle, and I tell her “long time ago” stories about when I was a little girl. She and I have mommy/daughter dates to the library and museum and to get our nails done. She loves feeding the animals (horses and chickens) at her Nana & Poppop’s (Jake’s parents) and hunting and fishing with her Granny & Grandpaw (my parents). Of course, she loves to go visit Mawmaw Hazel and Pawpaw Tony. We’ve been working hard on learning manners like “sir and mam” and “please and thank you.” I wish I could explain how happy she is, and how amazing it feels to be a family, to hear her prayers each night thanking God for Mommy and Daddy and our home and our dogs. I can’t thank you enough for giving birth to her.
I have to be completely honest and say that a big part of me feels anger towards you for not being there for her during the past seven years, God is really working on my heart, and I have been praying for peace for you. I don’t want to feel anger- I feel a calling to be someone who prays for you, encourages you, and celebrates with you as you overcome your problems. We are teaching Makinzy about love and forgiveness in Christ, and it is my hope that one day in the future when she is grown up, she can tell you she forgives you for those first seven years, hug you, pray with you, and thank you for giving the gift of parents. I know she does, and will always love you because, as I said before, you are a part of each other.
Tony said that you wanted to get to know us, and of course, that makes total sense that you would want to know more about the parents of your biological child and so I’d love to tell you more about us. We met at church as teenagers and were instant friends. We both played in the praise and worship band. Jake’s love for God and gentlemanly ways made me swoon and we knew at a very young aged we’d get married. We dated all though high school (even though we went to separate schools) and finally, 5 years later, we got married, right after Jake graduated college and got a teaching job. We spent the first years of our marriage spending as much time together as possible. We like travelling, hiking, and camping together. Jake is a realist- he is a very logical, mathematical thinker. He likes playing softball and tennis and gardening, I’m the dreamer. I like reading and writing, bargain shopping, and painting. Adopting a child has ALWAYS been something that’s important to us. I believe all Christians should consider adoption because in James He commands us to care for the fatherless. But even more so, adoption mirrors what God’s love for us is like. We are all sinners. We all make mistakes and fall short of God’s glory. We were slaves to sin, and while we were still sinners, He adopted us as His own children so that we could be called the children of God and inherit His kingdom. (Gal. 4:4-7, Romans 5:8) It’s funny how in my mind, we’d have a few biological kids and then adopt, but that just wasn’t what God had in store for us. I have to share this with you. The moment that we heard about Tony and Makinzy, this breathlessness settled in my chest. It was like my heart literally ached for her. I looked and Jake and he looked at me and our eyes locked. We just knew this was meant to be. I was so scared. I kept thinking about you. I felt sad for you. I felt mad at you. I was scared of you, and even scared for you. I didn’t want to to think of you, but yet my heart broke for you. I cried out to God and asked Him to give me peace, and to make it clear to us what His plans for Makinzy were. I kept praying that no matter what that He would place her into the arms of the family she needed and He would help you through it. And then Tony called and said he knew we were the right family, and that you would support us. I knew that I couldn’t go through this alone with all of my worries- what would I say when Makinzy as teenager yells “you’re not my real mother” in anger because I won’t let her go out late with friends or something or how would you and I get along? Would you respect me as her real mom, even if though you gave birth to her? I had all of these fears, but it was as if God whispered in my heart “No, you can’t do this alone, but you can with Me” and I knew this was the right thing. I know this letter is incredibly long, but I wanted to pour out my whole heart, honestly. I want you to know that I am going to raise Makinzy to know you love her and care for her, and we (Jake, Makinzy, and I- the three of us) will always be cheering for you to overcome addiction and problems you face. I hope this letter has brought you comfort. When I get some pictures developed, I will send you some. I can’t make any promises just yet about Family Day. I don’t know what will be going on that day just yet, nor am I sure if we are ready for that, but I will let you know, either in a letter or through Tony. I send mine and Makinzy’s love, and hope that this letter has brought you a little bit of peace. Please remember that we are praying for you each day.

WIth love and thanks,

Briana
Psalm 147:5