When and Wear

Several years ago, my lovely Meghan wrote this blog about incorporating tangible reminders of her son Gabriel into daily life.  I’ve been planning to borrow her post idea for awhile now because it resonates so deeply with me.  

I think almost any parent’s nightmare would be for their child to be forgotten.  For their existence to be erased.  The circumstances fueling this fear could be very different (loss, estrangement, distance), but our responses fall into similar categories:

Constant thought: As someone I love said, “My brain keeps going to that spot, the one where my kid is.  It's like picking a scab, over and over again.”  This rang so true to me.  I worry Elijah will feel overlooked because of how much we talk about his sister.  And I don’t believe our consistent reflection on her is a result of us loving her more than him (Although I won’t lie, sometimes it is easier to love the kid who isn’t here yet.  Especially when the one who IS here leaves lego pieces strategically scattered for maximum foot injury).  She is that hangnail, that sad memory, the box of old pictures.  Yes, it hurts to deal with -to bring up, but it hurts too much NOT to do those things either.

Sensitivity to Others: And when others remember (or forget) your child, the response is physical, like a blow.  For Gabriel’s 5th angelversary, the Dingles received a gorgeous painting with all their family members represented by birds--Gabe’s already in flight.  That acknowledgment means the world.  When friends in our Bible Study pray for the expecting mamas (There are ALWAYS expecting mamas.  We are a fertile group….well, most of us) and include me, I’m a lost cause.  Tears, snot, everything.  You see, it matters EVEN MORE if you remember our child because they never leave our mind.

Necessity of Reminders: So yeah, we are going to bring our kid up.  A lot.  Sometimes we worry if you are tired of us mentioning them again, but we need to hear them addressed in conversation-it keeps them alive and fresh in memory.  We fill our houses with things that bring them to mind and keep them close to heart.  It is important, these reminders, because some days it is all we feel that we have of our child.

With all that in mind, I wanted to take a cue from Meg and show you some of the favorite gifts I've gotten (or hope to get!  Hint, hint) to commemorate my sweet daughter:

Thank you Tricia, Kris, Steven, and Hannah!

This triad of necklaces are probably the ones I wear most, all extra special for different reasons.  One given by a sweet friend, who also dealt with the pain of infertility.  One given by a fellow adoptive mom, who is locked in the process like us and is impatiently waiting for her African daughter.  One given by my brother and his fiancee, pretty much sealing the deal and my love for her forever ;).

Thank you Mom and LeeAnn!

These two gorgeous pieces are from my favorite fair trade store, Ten Thousand Villages.  Both of them are especially precious because of being made in Ethiopia; I love that the purchases support workers in our daughter's home country!  The timing of the gifts was crucial.  The necklace was received right after the wind down of our big Chili Cookoff fundraiser and the earrings were given in the midst of January's difficult adoption roadblocks.  Both were exhausting times.  Interesting then that Ten Thousand Villages incorporated "hope" into the names of both jewelry pieces (as in "Hoops of Hope" and "Beans of Hope") because that's exactly what they revived in me.

Thank you Jessica!

David's bracelet.

Let me tell you the significance of this antler necklace: It was made by widows in Kenya and its purchase also helped benefit orphans in Uganda.  I call that a win-win-win!  This unique gift was purchased for me through Love, Rowan.  And the bracelet is what David wears every day.  He painstakingly chose the cord and tied the knot, a tangible expression of the physical and emotional ties we feel for our daughter.  He will wear this reminder on his wrist until she comes home.

Lastly, our adoption agency is so awesome that they have their own e-store (which you can both purchase from and fundraise through)!  I love the idea of literally wearing your heart for adoption on your sleeve with some of their amazing clothing selections.  My favorite design (this is where the not-so-subtle birthday hint comes in) is a picture of the continent of Africa with "He makes all things new" (Revelation 21:5) emblazoned across it.  I adore that.


Recently, I was at a concert with friends and the venue was claustrophobic with reminders of my daughter.  Seated directly in front of me were acquaintances, farther along in their Ethiopian adoption process, who showed off pictures of their precious soon-to-be son.  Across the aisle was a Caucasian couple cradling their sweet African-American baby.  Several seats down, a young fellow wore a shirt that had "Hope" written across the continent of Africa (I told my friends that I wanted to steal this shirt....and the baby across the aisle.  Obviously I was joking, but don't tell our social worker).  It was hard.  I found myself developing a bad attitude about the whole thing.  About not having pictures to show off of my daughter.  About not having her in my arms already.

Then this word came to my mind: Empathy.  As in, Laura- you are surrounded not only by reminders of your daughter, but also with people who understand suffering.  The people who don't immediately think "Ebola" when someone talks about Africa, but instead think "Granddaughter" as my mom voiced the other day.  The ones who understand the grief of being separated from their child, the hope of empty arms being filled.  Those who use "orphan" and "widow" as more than taglines to sound religious.  All these are family to me.

I don't plan on shutting up about my daughter any time soon.  I won't take down the African artwork in my house or from around my neck.  I need the reminders, not just of my daughter, but also of the good people who stand in agreement with me.  And although some days it is difficult to remember: We are not alone; we are blessed.