Adopting Aliyah - Part 5

Nathan holding Aliyah

When I woke up the following morning, Friday, June 25th, Randy had already left to get supplies at Walmart. Nathan got to hold his new little sister for the first time while I quickly changed my clothes to go to the doctor. While I waited for Kristin to arrive and Randy to return, I took Aliyah outside in the morning sunshine which seemed to calm her and me as well. We walked over to the pasture and I introduced her to the curious goats. Kristin and Randy arrived soon after. Randy had bought her some newborn-size clothes since the few 0-3 month clothes I had would swim on her tiny body. After changing her into one of her new outfits, Kristin and I left to take her to the pediatrician(PNP). Randy was going to pack for his trip while we were gone and take off to the airport after my dad arrived to watch the other three kids. At the pediatrician’s office, Aliyah weighed in at 7 pounds 14 ounces. It was worse than I thought. I told the PNP that I was very concerned about Aliyah’s condition and that I wanted her to completely remove Aliyah’s clothing and give her a very thorough check up from head to toe. The PNP, who had formerly worked in a NICU, checked her out carefully and after consulting with the head doctor decided that we needed to take her to the pediatric emergency room up at Duke where she had been seen before. As a side note, the PNP expressed to me that we should be able to back out of the adoption because her medical condition was not fully made known to us. I couldn’t think about that right then, I just needed to focus on getting this little girl the medical attention that she needed. Randy had been calling about every 15 minutes to find out what was going on and to give me the opportunity to tell him at any time to turn back and not go on the trip. He was at the airport with his mission’s team getting ready to check his luggage when he heard the news that we were headed to the ER. “Lynette, do you want me to stay?” (pause) “Randy, I can’t answer that for you. I really want you to be able to go.” (pause) “Let me talk to my team lead and I’ll get back to you.” Randy called back a few minutes later to tell me that he was going to get his truck out of the parking lot and that he would meet me at the ER. Now he was giving me another reason to cry…crying because he was missing this wonderful outreach opportunity that was so important to him and that he had been looking forward to for months…crying because he was choosing not to go because he was making our family his main priority. He was choosing to stay by my side when I needed him most. As I drove the hour to Duke Hospital, Kristin was sitting in the back with Aliyah listening to me talk and cry and express my fear and confusion and lack of understanding of how all this could be taking place. I tried to think about placing her in foster care and how that might play out. I just couldn’t get past the effect it would have on my other children. In their minds, she was their little sister. How would I possibly explain giving her back? At the same time, I was struggling with the implications that her medical condition could have on our family…our relationships with our other children, our time, our finances, our future. What was the right decision? God, help me! Please show me what to do! I am so confused. Doctors, nurses, family, and our adoption agency are all saying, “You don’t have to accept this. You can back out. You saved her life. That’s great! Now it is OK to let someone else care for her, because it appears that she is going to be very high maintenance and that is not what you planned on or expected.” My mind was feeling so fuzzy with trauma and emotion at that point. I was having trouble remembering all of those details and moments when God’s guiding hand was so clear to me during the past week…affirming the path I was taking. It felt awkward to call her my daughter and refer to myself as her mother. It really felt like I was caring for someone else’s child. I was afraid to give myself permission to love her and accept her as mine. Truly, at that point, I didn’t know if she would be mine.


When we arrived at the drop off point for the ER, Randy was waiting for us. He took the van and parked it while we went in. I was concerned for Randy thinking about how terribly disappointed he must be about his cancelled trip. However, I could see no outward signs of it. In fact, he was very calm and cheerful being the support I needed him to be.

In the ER

While waiting to be called back for triage, I mentioned something to Randy about what decision we were going to make about keeping her or placing her in foster care. He looked at me with shocked surprise and said, “Of course, we’re keeping her! How can you even talk about not? That makes me want to cry just thinking about it.” His eyes actually teared up as he held that little girl that gazed up at him with such trust. There was such love and compassion in his eyes already. He reminded me of one of the main reasons we were adopting in the first place. Physical adoption is a beautiful picture of our spiritual adoption. Pastor John Piper describes adoption as the “visible gospel” that is proclaimed to a watching world that desperately needs to know the love of the heavenly Father. Many years ago when I had nothing to offer God yet had a desperate need for Him, He chose to adopt me into His family as His daughter. He didn’t just save me from my sin and then say, “Alright, you’re on your own now. Hope you have a good life.” No, He wrapped me in His loving arms and made me a part of His family forever. He has promised to love me, care for me, provide for my every need, and help me live my life. He would never say, “Oh, now wait a minute, you were much worse than I expected. Wow! Look at all your problems. You know, I think I’m going to have to change my mind about accepting you as my child.”  Well, there was my answer. It was at that moment in the ER waiting room that I was back on board and clearly knew the direction we were supposed to take. God placed Aliyah in our laps for a good purpose. She was ours, part of our family, and we would not turn away from her.