Jason and I got the amazing gift of going away for a few days together without the kids. Everything fell into place, the location, the childcare, and the timing. 

We had an incredible time with amazing and life long friends with that great southern hospitality. Took uninterrupted naps, woke up when I wanted, drank my coffee while it was still hot, and ate all of my food without having to share or clean up spills. Jason and I laughed a ton and we were able to have awesome conversations. At one point we may have even graced a dance floor with our incredible moves… 

I’m not gonna lie today started out rough. I spent the first half of the day in tears. It was one of the times that I really just wanted to collapse in Jason’s arms and sob, but couldn’t because he is out of town for a few days. 

Foster care is hard. Really, really hard. It is at a whole new level when the intention is to adopt and every CPS worker was telling you from the beginning that it was a “slam dunk adoption case”. Thankfully we had the learning experience of Bella to know better than to fully rely on that being the outcome. 

I started out this day surviving at best. I went to the Mom’s group at church this morning and one of the moms with such a sweet spirit looked at me in the eyes and asked me, “How are YOU doing?” I looked at her and my other friend standing there and shook my head and said, “not good”. The tears began to come as I acknowledged out loud that I’m not at my best. 

The unknown with our little Mo is some days unbearable. It’s hard to breathe and hard to focus. I’m not scared. I’m not hopeless. I’m not doubtful of God’s character. I’ve just been here before and I know the pain that is before my family and me. No way around it, we have to walk through it.

So, I’m tired and sad. 

This morning, Jesus in all of His constant faithfulness met me. He is my guide. He is my comforter. He is my strength. He’s given me a community that surrounds me in prayer and encouragement. I am happy and thankful to say because of my good God, and my incredible community my day went from surviving to thriving. 

We will only survive in this life as long as we try to do it alone. Thriving comes when we link arms with our community and push through keeping our hearts and minds on God and His perfect love for us.

My prayer for you as you read this is that you would be able to ask yourself the hard questions and be able to answer them honestly.

*What area of my life am I merely surviving?
*What would it take to thrive in the area that I’m surviving?
*How can I be used in my vulnerability to point others to Christ as I walk through this current season of life?

Go on this journey with me! I’d love to hear how I can be praying for you through processing these questions!

Jason and I were married on August 19, 2006. I am 2 years older than him, but shhhh, we don’t need to ever talk about that again 🙂 We had barely said our vows and I was begging my 24 year old husband, a fresh college graduate, to give me the hour, day, or even month that we could go off birth control to start trying for kids. Poor guy. For those of you that know me well, you know that I am like a pit bull, I won’t stop until I get an answer. Not my most favorite attribute. We finally came to an agreement with the 3 year plan. Since you can plan and all, we would get pregnant in year 4 of marriage.

Year 3 came and we went off the pill. I was picking out names, and telling my mom and sisters to be ready! The minute there is no goalie, you get pregnant, right?! That’s at least what I thought being the middle of 5 kids and an aunt to 5 nieces and nephews at the time. Month after month passed; negative pregnancy test after negative pregnancy test was thrown in the trash. Discouragement, sadness, frustration, and confusion month after month took home in my heart.

Finally in November of 2009 we went to the doctor to do some blood work and get answers.  On December 1st, the office called to tell us the blood work results were back and we were pregnant! WHAT?! I immediately ran out to the store to buy a test so that I could see it with my own eyes. For the first time ever on that little digital screen there wasn’t a “not” before the word “pregnant”. I couldn’t believe my eyes. I was so giddy with excitement.

Three days later I started bleeding. The doctor said not to worry because it was common to bleed early on, but they wanted to check my HCG numbers. Results came in and my HCG numbers were still rising. Good news! Because we were so early on in the pregnancy they wanted to check my numbers again. Those results came in on Christmas Eve. “Your numbers have declined. So sorry, but you are miscarrying.”

Being that Jason is pastor of music at church, Christmas Eve services weren’t something he could miss. My mom and sister drove out from Murrieta to pick me up. I was a mess. So broken. “Miscarriage? Women in my family don’t miscarry.” And the beginning of the lie started that day, “You are broken, Elizabeth. You aren’t a real woman.”

The next business day we called the doctor to ask what happened. He told me that I have PCOS, and it is amazing that I even got pregnant without fertility drugs. It is the number one cause of infertility. That was a dark day for me. Jason and I had some discussing to do and decisions to make.

I didn’t want to try fertility drugs because I had in my head that if God wanted me to get pregnant, He would heal me and I would get pregnant. So, I had an internal battle going on of what I know now is ridiculous and dumb theology. 

I’d wanted to be pregnant for as long as I can remember. I was 5 or 6 years old stuffing pillows under my shirt to make the perfect round belly. I’d even pop my hips so that it looked like a baby was kicking, or so I thought it looked that way 🙂 Getting pregnant was a life long dream that I saw shattering before my eyes. 

One day my mom and I were on the phone and she asked me, “What is wrong with trying Clomid?” I told her my amazing reasoning and she responded with something that has stuck with me to this day. “God gave us intelligent scientists that have created medicine to help us. The way you are responding is the same as if a diabetic refused to take their insulin because if God didn’t want them to have diabetes, He would heal them.” I realized that I wouldn’t be interfering with God, if He didn’t want me to get pregnant then the Clomid wouldn’t work. That night I talked to Jason and the next day we made an appointment with the doctor.

Jason and I made the decision that if Clomid didn’t work, adoption would be the route for us. So we began 5 months of Clomid. Can I just tell you that stuff made me so crazy! Like CRAZY!! Like putting cantaloupe in the freezer crazy. Like forgetting how to drive a manual car in the middle of driving when it’s all I’ve ever driven crazy. Hot flashes like no one’s business. SO klutzy. It was not the brightest 5 months of my life. Poor Jason! Month after month it didn’t work. But God was so gracious the whole way. On my hardest days someone would reach out with an encouraging text or call with the kindest words or Bible verse. He met me day in and day out. I remember one time I was writing in my journal crying out to God, begging Him to allow me to get pregnant and He so gently spoke to me to enjoy this time because it is the calm before the storm. I had no idea what it meant, but I assumed that it meant I would be getting pregnant soon and maybe with multiples! 

We didn’t get pregnant and I was crushed. We weren’t a part of the 80% success rate. I was so in my head that I couldn’t see past being broken and feeling less than. It felt like everyone around me was getting pregnant first try or not trying at all. I went through a dark season where I wanted to punch every pregnant woman in the uterus. I didn’t, don’t worry…I just felt so resentful and jealous. “Why me, God? Would I be a bad mom? Would Jason be a bad dad? Why is this the journey you’ve chosen for me?” Talk about a real pity party! It wasn’t until much later that I learned the power of walking through a trial keeping my head up and ears open to how God could use me in the midst of my brokenness. 

The month after our last round of Clomid we met with the county and began the process of foster to adopt. March 2011 we did our orientation and we brought my stud of a kid, Weiland John, home on October 26th 2011. Our final month of failed Clomid, my Dubster was conceived. 

I can honestly call my infertility a gift. I can honestly say that I am thankful for my miscarriage. If I didn’t miscarry, we wouldn’t have my Dubster. Weiland is a kid that I could never dream of being allowed to raise and to love and to call my son.  God sees the big picture. He is so good! 

This is just a small glimpse of the beginning of our infertility journey. More to come..perhaps in a book format 😉 

The most common asked question in our foster to adopt journey is, “How do you do it?”, followed up with, “I could never do what you guys do.” To which I promptly respond, “Jesus”. It isn’t us, it is Jesus who says “yes”. It is Jesus who is our strength. It is Jesus who is our joy. It is Jesus who breaks our hearts for what breaks His. It is Jesus who sustains us. He is faithful. He is good. He sees the big picture. It is He whose ways are higher than ours. His plan is so much better than anything we could have ever thought up. It’s Jesus. 

My entire life I’ve struggled with my self-worth. I never felt pretty enough, skinny enough, smart enough, or talented enough. I would overcompensate my insecurities with being loud and obnoxious, looking for a laugh or a high five. In the midst of that, I came across as intimidating, confident, and unapproachable. Because of this I have been misunderstood the majority of the time. 

It was 9 months since our brown eyed girl went back to live with her mom. In this 9 months I had wished and prayed for a little boy and more specifically that would be half black like his big brother. As silly as it sounds I even hoped and wished that we would be able to pick this baby boy up from the hospital and that I would get to ride in the wheel chair to get some of the birth mom experience. After I would hope/wish/pray for these specific requests, I would push them out of my mind and call myself ridiculous. 

It was June 29th, 2015 at 9:00 in the morning and Jason and I sat down with our social worker. We spelled out to her our conditions to going back on the list to be matched with a child. I told her I would like a baby straight from the hospital that was safely surrendered. I didn’t have it in me to do visits again, let alone the fear of losing another child. She didn’t have high hopes for us, but said she would only call with extremely “low risk” cases. We signed the papers and she was on her way. All day I was sick with anxiety. An emotional wreck almost paralyzed with fear. Questions running through my head like, “Are we doing the right thing? What if we lose this child? Are we putting Weiland another painful experience?” It was a Monday night, coincidentally, women’s Bible study night at church. Jason and I had decided not to tell anyone about going back on the list except for our family and mentors so when I went to church that night I wasn’t free to share or ask for prayer for this huge decision that we signed up for. 

A beautiful friend of mine that has an AMAZING voice, like heaven is going to sound like her voice, I’m serious, she is SOOO good! Anyways, she was leading music that night at Bible study. She started singing a song called, “Come Out of Hiding“. I immediately fell to my knees sobbing. It hit me like a ton of bricks. “He is my peace!! Stop with the fear and run to Him, Elizabeth!” It was as though at that minute that His peace rushed over me. Fear was gone, I knew that He had my family in the palm of His hand and He could be trusted. Little did I know that I was in “labor”.

June 30th, about 24 hours after signing on the dotted line with our social worker, there was a little half black baby boy delivered and left at the hospital. A social worker from the hospital called at about 3:00 in the afternoon to let us know that there was a little baby boy left at the hospital that needed a forever home. I told her that I needed to call and discuss it with my husband, also known as call my husband and scream and cry and not make any sense to my husband. Jason came home from work and we put the social worker on speaker phone to tell her, “YES!”. We immediately called a sitter for Weiland and hit up Target. I can still feel the excitement in the depth of my gut as I type this. 

July 1, we headed to the hospital to meet our son. He had to stay an extra day for an infection, but we were not going to wait another day to meet him!  On our 30 minute drive to the hospital, I looked at Jason and said, “Huh, we don’t have any boy names!”  Jason has a thing about naming his kids after lead singers of rock bands, so we started wracking our brains. My same friend that sang the song that kicked me into “labor” was texting me name ideas and sent us a winner! We were going to meet our Martin Maverick. 

July 2, we loaded up Weiland and headed to pick up the newest Shafer. My sweet, sweet boy with the deep dimples was waiting for his final feeding that Jason and Weiland got to give him. The nurse then brings in a wheel chair and says, “I know it may seem silly, but Elizabeth needs to ride in the wheel chair and hold the baby.” I would have started sobbing right there, except I couldn’t stop laughing at Jason’s response of disbelief that I got to ride in the wheel chair and I didn’t just have a baby. (He didn’t know about my secret conversations with God about this)

I was up during one of the midnight feedings just baffled by the little miracle I was holding. I was curious what was going on in my life when he was conceived so I calculated back…He was conceived the month we lost Bellamy. I immediately went into shock..My Marty was my beauty from ashes. Jesus saw me in my despair and tears and held me. He knew that He had created such a beautiful gift that would soon be given to us. What a good, good God that gives such amazing gifts. 

I have had an enlightening week. I wish that I could say that it has been an encouraging and happy enlightening. But it has been a really difficult week of internal struggle and ultimately a HUGE reality check for me. 

Jason has been sick in bed most of this week, like down for the count sick. It isn’t very often that he goes to the doctor or stays in bed so I knew that he really wasn’t feeling well. I wish that I could say that I was understanding and an awesome nurse for him. Instead, I had this ugly black heart of bitterness and frustration emerge. 

I didn’t truly realize how much he does around the house and for the kids until he wasn’t available. Instead of feeling grateful for the amazing husband and dad that Jason is, I was just angry, tired, and frustrated. 

Throughout the week I complained about how much I was doing. I would sulk and have pity parties that no one was taking care of me and my needs. 

My poor husband and kids did not have a pleasant care taker, and the sad thing is that they haven’t for awhile. This week just brought about what has already been inside all along. 

Contentment. Finding joy in all circumstances. Being thankful for all that God has give me. Unfortunately, I’ve been discontent. I’ve been looking around and lost in comparison of what I don’t have, losing sight of all that I do have. Anything from the numbers on the scale to the flooring that I want in my house. I had gotten so deep in the pit of entitlement and ungratefulness that one day Jason and I were driving about a week ago and I was grumbling about who knows what and he stopped me and said, “You have so much to be thankful for.” I quickly responded with, “Like what?! Name one thing!” I am not proud to admit to this, but this is just a simple example of how derailed I had gotten. 

Friday evening I was able to go see “All Sons and Daughters” at a nearby church with some friends. God so gently and lovingly gave me the word “derailed”. That is exactly what had happened, in the last 5 months  I have been so derailed. Whether it was the foster care system making decisions that I didn’t agree with, teething babies keeping me up at night, living in our home while renovating it, or my 4 year old having a hard time transitioning into his new school, the life was being sucked out of me. 

My eyes were not fixed on Jesus, they have been fixed on my circumstances. Circumstances that change and fluctuate. No wonder why I was derailed. I took my eyes off  my source of consistancy! 

As I sat down in the seat in the middle of worship, peace overcame me. Remorse and repentance to the Lord, Jason, and my kids. I was so mad that I let satan steal my joy and believed his lies of not having or being enough. God is so faithful to gently guide us and be there ready to forgive us as soon as we ask for it. I came home renewed. 

Then Sunday came, yes just 2 days later.  You see, it isn’t just any Sunday. It is September 18th, the day I have been counting down to since the beginning of August when I decided to cross something off my bucket list and purchase tickets to see Garth Brooks.  

Saturday night Weiland was up most the night with a stomach ache, Marty was up twice with a horrible cold,  and Jason was up coughing. I thought I was being so loving and considerate when I told Jason that he didn’t have to drive to Orange County with me, he could stay home and “rest”. “Rest” taking care of our 2 sick babies, and a VERY high energy Weiland. It was either that or I have our sitter come watch the kids while Jason lays in bed and takes care of himself if he needed anything. Those were the only two options, right?! And then it hit me, “Elizabeth, this is not the time to leave town. Embracing this season and thriving in it is being home and present with your sick husband and kids.” So, I let go of the ticket and stayed home to take care of my family. 

If it weren’t for that gentle and liberating time with Jesus the Friday before, I don’t think that I would have been able to make the right choice for my family on Sunday. I am overwhelmed with gratitude for my good, good Father. He is so patient with us. So kind. So faithful. So gentle. He is relentlessly in love with us. 

This lesson of contentment is not super easy for me. But I am committed to learning and growing until my days on earth are done. 

Thanks for reading 🙂