Pork Butts, Tears, Truth and Trust


Last night I drove home from Happy Texas smelling like cooked onions, crying, talking out loud to myself and eating pork butt out of a zip lock bag (and zip lock is sure as hell not compensating me for using their name here).  

 Doodles came to be in this family at 2 days old.  She will just be with us for a few more days.

We knew this day was coming but we really thought (dreamed? lied to ourselves?demanded?) that things would be different.  They are not going to be.

I held this baby when she was just a few days old.  She and I bonded over a week of nights.  Her bright eyed slugging back milk from a bottle at 2am.  Me remembering why young people have babies.

She is getting a tooth in.  She has found her voice and babbles.  She got to go with us for girls weekend.  She promised me she would go next year with me and we fist bumped.  I hope she does not forget.

Cause fist bumps are even bigger than promises.

I believe in the legal system. I believe that it is good for the most part and that it works.  If I did not believe, then I could not do the job that I do.  I believe that it works if it is applied and governed in the way that it was intended.  And even though I believe in the system, I see its cracks and flaws.  I know people, even the littlest of people, fall through the holes.  

Truth is...this sucks.  Truth is....this hurts.   I cannot imagine how this must feel for my kids.  Instead of getting mad, they pack up her favorite things and make copies of all of her pictures for bio-mom.

How did Mose's mom do it? 

So we take pictures.  We love her.  We do cement hand prints onto garden stones. 

We trust. 

I whispered my words into her ear one last time.

Paisley you are Momdy's baby girl and I will always love you.  You are so kind.  You are so special. You will always use your words for good.  You are loved.  You are even more than beautiful because yours comes from the inside baby girl. 

Then I look into her blue eyes and she smiled her goofy grin at me and I hand her back to the only mommy she has ever known and I drove away.  I cried knowing that I will probably never hear her voice. 

We may never ever see her again (though there is a piece of me that suspects that we will) but she will always belong to us.

I will always look for a little girl named Paisley and I will never ever let go of my end of the red thread*. 

*An invisible red thread connects those destined to meet, despite the time, the place, and despite the circumstances. The thread can be tightened or tangle, but will never be broken.” Ancient Chinese proverb


  1. Ah, geez....

    *running into the other room to get my Kleenex*

  2. Kleenex aren't going go do it. This calls for a case of paper towels.

  3. Oh wow - I like the red thread proverb. (I am thinking you are right about seeing her again. I hope it's soon.)

  4. Mindy that sux.

    I'm using my cardigan as a kleenex. Prayers for you all while you say goodbye and wait, but special prayers for her protection.

  5. Love to you, my friend. xoxo Cheryl

  6. Crying with you...... I believe you are right, your hearts will always be connected and so too you will meet again.

  7. This is precious. I am sending you hugs, my friend.

  8. Oh, ouch. I'm so sorry.

    For what it's worth (which, at this particular moment, might be a pile of beans): for different reasons, I lived with a number of different families growing up. My situation wasn't the same as Paisley's, but I'm positive that those other families saved my life-- not just in a still-breathing way, but in a value-added way. It's very scary to think about where or who I'd be without them. So, on Paisley's behalf, in the middle of all this hurt: thank you so much for loving her.

  9. you know right that the love your family shared has shaped her in innumerable ways... god will not let her soul forget that dear friend. you will always be part of her, and she you for the love her tiny fist bumps gave...

    i have used thread imagery with families giving a child up for adoption... we all held one piece of thread in a circle... and then the momma usually... took scissors and cut the threads apart as we held them... but we each held onto a piece. got mine somewhere... makes me think of the woman who was suffering with hemorages and she reached out and touched jesus' cloak in the crowd. she touched the fringe of his shawl... literally thread. her faith was hangin' on by a thread and jesus turned and said to her, 'your faith has made you well'...

    so sweetie even if you're just hanging by a thread, god's got you.

  10. My heart breaks for you all. Hugs. Hugs. And more hugs.

  11. Anonymous5:21 PM

    Life's peculiar when it breaks your heart. Here's hoping the healing backwash is huger than the hurt.




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