noelantruth

Oct 27

where did we go?

By Marie Klein Burtt addysengrace, bucuresti, family, mercyadoniyah, ministry, noelantruth, romania, school

Eesh. Wherever did I go? This might be one of the longer(est) breaks I accidentally took from blogging. So I decided to review the past (gulp!) six+ months and tell you what we did and what I’ve learned.

2017 brought a grand life lesson: under no circumstances should you move right in the middle of the school year. But if you do, you should not commute your kids to their old school.

Unfortunately I would do it all over again. (Aha! I must have been one of THOSE kids!) We moved in March…let me tell you, it was fast. In mid-February we talked a little about the idea of moving, still leaning towards the idea of moving over the summer. We were also attempting to find a better school. We were pursuing something called a “viza de flotant” which is basically when you know someone in the zone you want to be and they loan you their address. Come to find out it is harder than it looks. We connected with one of the directors of a great school right in the center, hoping she could help us understand this confusion. We didn’t know anyone living this this area and for some random reason we looked online at the apartments in this area and we found ours. Our apartment is really a gift. It is in the centre, five minutes from a metro hub AND an affordable price. Our owner lives in Israel and wanted to get our apartment rented fast. Which is how we went from “talking” about moving during the summer to having the keys to our new place on March 1st.

But this enabled us to register Mercy in one of the better schools during Class 0 registration (2 weeks during March). The good schools are hard to get into, and ours is either the second or third best school in our sector. Enrolling Mercy during registration allowed up is transfer Addy as a sibling at the end of summer. The hard part is that we finished the school year at their old schools (Mercy needed to finish kindergarten anyway, so Addy finished also). Our spring pretty much went like this – wake up, rush around, leave at 7:00a, drop kids off by 7:50/8:30, go to language class, pick kids up by 12/12:30, get home by 2p, eat lunch, get homework done, prepare for the next day, make and eat dinner, bedtime, repeat, repeat, repeat. I don’t know which one of us was rejoicing the most when school ended on 16 June.

I also learned that stress can wreck havoc on your body. We are holistic beings, there is no doubt. Me physically is connected to me emotionally and me spiritually. And a year and a half ago, my son was taken away from me and it crushed me. Last summer was a dark and long road often filled with doubt and feeling utterly exhausted. I kept wondering when I would be able to shake all this grief.

But my body was very bruised and worn out and I didn’t realise it. I just thought I was dragging. I got a cold in December and I never really stopped being sick from December to March. I had a foggy headache every day, sometimes all day long. My body had weird aches and pains. Long story short, I finally had blood work done and was diagnosed with Adrenal Fatigue. I realise now that the past two years, losing Eisley and then losing Noelan were so much harder on me physically and spiritually and emotionally than I could even comprehend.

I should mention that Adrenal Fatigue has been really humbling for me. Somewhere along the way, I guess I put my identity in my abilities. The ability to go to bed at 11p and wake up without an alarm, ready to go at 5am. The ability to go and go and go and never stop. I don’t wait well and I don’t rest well. Well, I didn’t — because let me tell you, I have been learning! I am not 100% better but I am getting better and I am feeling better. And I am learning what it means to rest and what it means to say no when I can’t do something.

I also learned that we can love and laugh and be a family again. Not surprising, I don’t remember last summer. As in truly there are blank parts. I know we took our yearly road trip and I know we were in crisis mode most of the time. I know Mercy spent 11 days in the hospital and then 6 weeks quarantined. That right there sums up my memories. I look at pictures of last summer and I am stunned. Our faces hurt. You can see loss in our eyes. You can see doubt and pain and confusion. This summer was opposite. We drove to Hungary and saw my cousin and her family. We enjoyed ministry camps (actually we enjoyed and survived ministry camps). We took a road trip and it was a blast and it was without crisis. I found myself comparing pictures, shocked. The joy on the girls face this year versus the pain on their faces last year is drastically different. I found myself daily standing back and realising that we were laughing and smiling and enjoying each other once again. I found myself realising that in the midst of crisis I was actually clinging even tighter to Jesus, beating my fists against his chest, asking him, “WHY?!” Yet it keeps going, this story. Because this summer, when the pain began to lift, I found myself left with even bigger areas in my life ready to be filled with joy and peace and happiness. Don’t get me wrong. I miss my son so much. Adoption loss sucks. Yet I also know that I was chosen for a reason to be his mama last year, to hold him and rock him and wipe away his tears, to choose medical procedures that would protect him and to show him true unconditional love. And somewhere along the way, during this summer, still clinging to Jesus, I found myself no longer asking why but instead whispering “thank you” for the opportunity to be Noelan Truth’s mama.

And that is almost the current version of where we are. 😉 The girls started school at a new school. They mostly like it, hahah. My kids are wandering free souls so sometimes the traditional institution of education drives them batty. They take after their mama and wish all things could be learned through art and mess. Yet things really are going ok. Ministry is going well as we prep for Summit 2017, the largest all things included adoption conference in Romania. Please be praying for Christian and I as we are helping with the entire conference plus we will be sharing about adoption loss. Also, praise! My parents are here! My mom arrived Monday and technically my Dad arrives tomorrow (thanks to a certain little event called the World Series and the Dodgers, ha!). We are so blessed to have them here and already we have taken advantage of being able to be run to meetings or appointments child free! They are staying through December and we are so excited!

Feb 14

the beginning of the one year

By Marie Klein Burtt addysengrace, america, christian, family, mercyadoniyah, noelantruth

dear son,

today is the day i didn’t want to come. i don’t know why but this one year mark feels so final, so complete, so deep, so real, so raw, so very much the end.

today is the anniversary of the day i decided to love you as my son.

sunday, february 14th, 2016.

i will never forget it. i will never forget how i felt when i knew in my heart the answer was yes. i will never forget the moment i loved you as my son.

i have flashed back to this day a million times this past year. i have wondered if i made the right choice. i have wondered if i should have protected addy and mercy better or protected my heart better.

many people have told me, “marie, you made the right choice. i truly believe you saved noelan’s life from someone threatening to hurt him if he wasn’t out of their home.”

but i realize something else, sweet boy of mine.

i realize that you saved my life.

you have taught me to love in a way i didn’t know possible. you have taught me to love addy and mercy and christian in a way i didn’t understand before i loved and lost you. you have shown me the heart of the Father in an intimate way i would never had understood without you. i have loved you and lost you and yet i still love you.

i will always love you sweet boy and i will always be your mama. but i miss you noelan truth. and i don’t think that i will ever stop missing you.

love, mama

Aug 18

what does grief look like?

By Marie Klein Burtt Holidays, mercyadoniyah, noelantruth

What is grief?

I don’t know.

What does grief look like?

I don’t know.

Does it really fit into neat little stages?

I don’t think so.

Can death and loss affect some of us more than others?

Probably.

Can we decide what is worth grieving, what level of grief we deserve, how long we get to be sad or mad for?

I don’t think so.

Will we be whole and pain-free once in heaven?

I think I am resting in that promise most these past few months.

On Thursday, traveling through Baia Mare (because we are on a road trip), grief hid it’s ugly face. Mercy woke up happy and silly. She climbed to the top of a clock tower, she marched around outside, a map stretched out in front of her, “interpreting” it for me. She fell asleep easily, happily, calmly.

On Friday, she played on her iPad while her big sister (shockingly!) slept in. But just ten minutes into it, she slammed it shut and announced it “dumb.” Not completely out of the ordinary for a strongly opinionated child, we laughed and said she could do something else.

Five minutes later she started griping about her foot. We had long forgotten the iPad truthfully. Then she was upset about breakfast. Then upset about the tv. Then she threw a tantrum about her clothing. And her hair. And her feet. Pretty soon she was worked up, angry, yelling, throwing. An hour later, after going over her boundaries a little, she had stopped “doing hurts” but was crying, borderline wailing, that mix of upset and whine.

We thought she was hungry. Nope. We thought she was tired. Nope. Somewhere in the midst of it all, that point where you start to pull your hair out, piece by piece, she reached both hands out for me to hold her, her sign she is ready to be comforted. I wrapped both arms around her, cuddled her, started to rock her.

And then she whispered in my ear, “I miss my brother.”

I stopped. “Right now?” I asked her. “All day,” she responded. She stopped, took a gulp of air and continued, “I started to play a game on the iPad that I used to play with Noelan. It was a game that I taught him how to play. And I felt very mad and sad when I saw that game.”

And that was it. She wrapped her arms and legs around me and I tight hugged her for a while. No tears. No words. Just a wiped out little girl, with no energy left and a hole in her heart.

That is grief. It really is an ocean, waves that ebb and flow. And there isn’t a magical formula out there. No one has written a book called “how to help your children grieve the adoption loss of their brother fifteen months after the death of their cousin.” Last time I checked, I can’t find “how to assure your children that no one can snatch them away the way their brother was taken from them” or “how to comfort your children that their other ‘best friends’ won’t completely betray them.”

So tonight I’m just laying next to my sweet five year old as she recounts her day and tells me which parts Noelan would have loved. I’m simply staring into her dark brown eyes as she wonders, “do you think bro-bro remembers me, mama? Do you think he misses me?” And I kiss her forehead softly and whisper into her ear, “he loves you. He remembers you. He misses you.”

And as her breathing slows and she starts to drift off to sleep, I find myself wondering…will tomorrow ebb or flow?

Aug 07

oh august

By Marie Klein Burtt addysengrace, america, christian, mercyadoniyah, noelantruth, romania

Oh August.

Last fall we started planning our summer furlough. We would go in August, immediately after camp. We would spend the next five weeks soaking up the California sun (while enjoying the California air conditioning). We would swim in Grandma and Grandpa Ducky’s swimming and go boating on the lake with Grammie and Pops. We would have BBQs and picnics and sleepovers with aunties and uncles and cousins.

Then came Valentine’s day. Would we come to California and adopt Noelan? We knew if we went in February that we wouldn’t go in August. But can you really compare the two – – summer vacation or a child?

And so we went. “I can’t attach to him. I don’t love him. Will you attach to him? Will you be his mom and dad?” The mama in me, the daddy in Christian – – we had to respond. And I attached, we attached. We were asked to and so we did. Every ounce of me became Noelan’s mama and every ounce of him became my son. We know the difference between fostering and adopting. We were asked to adopt Noelan, not foster him. And because of that, we became a family and completely attached to him.

Which is why I feel like a piece of my heart is missing.

Which is why two and a half months after loosing Noelan, I am still rocking my almost eight year old when she goes into an infantile grief. And it is why I still wake up in the middle of the night, panicked because I hear Noelan crying for me. And it is why Christian and I sit and stare at each other and have no words sometimes. And it is why my five year old tantrums and throws and hits until she finally voices “I want my brother back.”

Oh grief. Oh August.

The Lord brought me a new, unexpected friendship this summer. And she has already been an ear and a shoulder for me. She sent me this article and as Christian and I read it, we suddenly felt so much more “normal” during this process. I would encourage you to read it and remember it if the Lord brings someone into your life going through adoption loss. Just reading it has ministered to me, because it has reassured me that we are not alone in this process.

Jun 04

i am proud of you

By Marie Klein Burtt addysengrace, america, family, mercyadoniyah, noelantruth

dear addy and mercy,

the past two weeks have been horrible, haven’t they? you have had so much hurt, so much pain. i have felt so guilty, so responsible. daily my thoughts haunt me – – i didn’t protect you. i brought you into this situation. gave you a brother and then took him away. i know these are lies. i know someone else’s selfishness and sick choices have hurt you. but that doesn’t make me feel any less responsible.

i just wish i could hide both of you from all this pain.

but i can’t and baby girls, that just sucks.

tonight we talked about Jesus and how judas betrayed Him. we talked about what it would be like to have a friend walk alongside you, help you, serve you for three years and then sell you, betray you, turn you in, sign your death notice. we talked about how hurtful that is. we talked about how much anger we feel right now. you stared into space, mercy adoniyah and then you shouted at the top of your lungs, “i just want noelan back. i just want to hold my brother.” and as i watch you sob deep heart wrenching sobs, i wondered how you ever forgive someone that has intentionally hurt you and your family. it feels pretty raw to put so much trust in a friendship that so brutally betrays you. it feels pretty raw to realize someone you thought was your close friend for over eight years would be willing to intentionally tear apart your family.

betrayal is quite possibly one of the most painful things i have experienced. it is up there with death.

yesterday, addy grace, you were really struggling. you are suppose to be doing school here in california so that you aren’t held back in romania. your smart little brain is hurting so deeply right now, that even simply tasks are grueling. you broke down sobbing, “i just want you to be proud of me, mama. and if i am not smart anymore, will you still be proud of me?” and i held your sweet little quivering chin and i looked deep into your dark brown eyes and i told you this: you don’t have to be smart. you don’t have to be strong. you don’t have to be athletic. you just have to be kind and you just have to do good, and i will always be proud of you. and i know sweet baby girl of mine, that you will always be kind. you have been hurt deeper than any child should ever be hurt. you have learned what true betrayal is. and because of it, my miniature scientist, you will be kind to others and you will always do good.

we are going to go back to romania soon, sweet babies. it is going to be hard and painful but your daddy and i think it is the right thing to do. you have been away from your own home, your own comfort for over three months. you said goodbye to all your friends, your school, your toys, the language you speak more comfortably and you blindly followed us to california. you selflessly loved on your new little brother for three months, you lovingly gave up so much, you graciously allowed us to give your new brother much more time and attention than you got during those three months. you didn’t complain, you didn’t tantrum, you just loved noelan the way daddy and i did. you helped clean house, fold laundry and play with your brother. you did school in the car, in the doctor’s office and everywhere in between. you wishfully mentioned gymnastics, swim lessons, your bicycles, your friends – – but you never complained. addy grace, i will never forget you telling me, “i miss my home. but the bigger picture is that we have a brother.” your wisdom is way beyond seven years old. mercy adoniyah, tonight you looked deep into my eyes and you said, “i close my eyes and pretend that my brother is coming back. but when i open my eyes, noelan is not here, mama. i don’t have enough power to bring him back.”

i look at you and your sister and i think, “i keep closing my eyes and trying to take away your pain. but when i open my eyes, it is still there.”

oh babies of mine.

i am so sorry.

i love you both more than you will ever know. and i miss your brother so much. i wish there was some way i could take this situation and make it all better.

but know this, i will always be so, so, so proud of you both.

May 21

noelan truth

By Marie Klein Burtt addysengrace, america, christian, eisleyhope, family, Foster/Adoption, mercyadoniyah, noelantruth, romania, travel

I didn’t think I would write about this honestly. Part of me wants to close up and not share a word. Yet the questions have come quickly but out of love. Why?! I don’t get it! Can’t you do something?! Can I help?! I am not sure where to begin. I have been quiet – – we have been quiet, because we were doing quite simply what we were asked to do – – parent. Last February found us in no way planning a trip to the USA. Christian and I packed up our family and moved to Eastern Europe on January 16th, 2012. We didn’t do it because we are amazing. We did it because the call is real and we consider ourselves disciples and followers of Jesus Christ. And then that push comes to shove, you go. And so with a whole lotta awkward, no idea, we packed up our three year old, our six month old, eight 22 gallon plastic sterilite containers, a carseat, a stroller, a sewing machine, and a few other random things. We were blessed to be surrounded by very loving, very forgiving people as we blundered through culture shock and insensitivity, being homesick, grief mixed with excitement and so much more.

Fast forward from January 2012 to March 2015, when our world changed in every way. My niece, Eisley Hope was born on March 23rd and twelve days later, her brave fight to live was over. We had experienced adoption loss before and we had experienced the death of grandparents and friends, but this was something we had never experienced before. Addy and Mercy were shaken. We were shaken. They were crushed and bruised. We were crushed and bruised. After a whirlwind come back to the USA just three weeks after our 2015 furlough, we found ourselves back home in Romania with a huge hole in our hearts. So we did what we know best – – we kept going. We can look back now and see all the amazing people that walked alongside of us, making sure we were okay. We found Mercy the resources she needed and after two very scary months with our precious little girl that had stopped communicating, she started trying again. we saw her slowly emerge from the dark shell she had disappeared into. At Christmastime, DohDoh (my sister) and Uncle Tanner came to visit (Eisley’s parents). As I stood back and watched the chaos of laughter, fun and life – – I saw our family healing. I saw a new kind of “okay” where Eisley’s death doesn’t define us but it changes us into better people. I saw hope and joy in our family again.

So when February 2016 rolled around, we didn’t see ourselves doing much or going anywhere anytime soon. Gosh, we were just proud that we made it through most of winter and spring was on the way. Addy is doing brilliantly in Romanian public school. She is funny and energetic and social and bright and loud. She is creative and joyful. She speaks Romanian better (proper with amazing vocabulary) than many seven year olds born in Romania. Christian and I have felt a tiny bit of jealousy a few times, listening to her flawless language skills. Mercy is doing simply amazing at her new kindergarten. After a rough spring/summer 2015, we were so blessed to enroll her in a brand new kindergarten where we watched her become a new child. She is fierce and intense but loving and kind. She is freakishly smart and can already out argue her parents through logic and persistence. Every morning, she would wake up ready for school and life. I can honestly say the girls were thriving and I think Christian and I were doing pretty good too.

Let’s face it – – we are surrounded by kids without parents. It comes with the job. If I wanted to go find myself a child to make “mine” it wouldn’t be legal but it wouldn’t be difficult either. My life is a mixture of family, church family and kids without a family. Our holidays and weekends include extra kids on a regular basis. I can’t pick up Addy from school without giving 14 million hugs and receiving 29 million crushing squeezes. I go to the mini-market and find 1 or 2 kids I know that shout, “hey Meeeerrrrrrryyyyyy!” I say this because we weren’t looking or even really considering growing our family just yet. Our desire has always been to adopt while living in Romanian after we receive citizenship (the legal way for Americans to adopt) and citizenship takes time. So when Noelan found us, we weren’t sure. Noelan’s story is “simple” enough yet filled with trauma. He was born in Africa and quickly shuffled around from orphanage to foster mom. His California family began his adoption and asked us to be his godparents. We began praying for him while he was just an infant and I love that part of his story.

Like many, most, all Africa adoption, his hit some major bumps and he ended up living with his sweet foster mama for the first three years of his life. Many times it was thought his adoption would not take place but then in January it did. And we found ourselves peering through FaceTime watching him arrive in SoCal and we were full of excitement and joy. But as we know and have experienced and lived, adoption is not an easy nor simple way to add a child to your family. It is a decision to love a child that might be “broken” according to the worlds standards but I would argue that the world is what is actually broken. Adoption is parenting a child with a complex and confusing background, understanding that they might look “fine” on the outside but on the inside they are carrying very deep, very real, very painful wounds. And Noelan’s new legal parents found themselves unable to care for him, to which I say, that is okay.

So in February when they asked us to come and be his forever family, we found ourselves very, very conflicted. Everything in us said we needed to go and yet nothing inside of us wanted to uproot our lives for an unknown time. We wrestled and sought counsel. I still remember my older brother saying, “my fear is that he is too much to for them to parent while he is living with them but once he is gone, he won’t be too much to parent and they will think they can do it and then they will get him back and he will be too much for them to parent and a vicious cycle will start.” And we knew he was 100% right because let’s face it – – we are all awesome parents until we actually have kids. Heck I was the world’s best parent before Addy was born. Yet in our heart of hearts we still felt the urge to go. Our sweet little godson was in danger – – this isn’t stuff you make up. His new legal parents were crying out for help, confessing that they wanted him out of the house, their marriage was in shambles, their home was dangerous and toxic from him – – all words direct from their own mouths. Christian looked at me and said, “if we don’t go, we will always regret it.”

My parents rearranged their lives and schedules to pick him up from SoCal with less than 24 hours notice – – because from the mouths of his new legal family, it was for his own safety. My sister and her husband rearranged everything to provide emergency respite for him. And on the night of February 18th, they got my precious little boy, shell-shocked, numb and turned off to the world. He wasn’t in good condition. He was very dehydrated. He drank and drank and drank water until you had to take the water away and he would tantrum for it. His lips were scabbed and peeling. His skin was dry and peeling. He was simply numb to the world and life around him. DohDoh rocked him for hours those first ten days. Tanner sat on the floor and played cars over and over and over. Pops would get him from DohDoh’s office and drive him up to the “big house” (our name for Grammie and Pop’s house) and Grammie would watch him during the day. He had a non-stop “cold” for the first week.

And we furiously paused life in Romania. We got out cash time and time again (ATM’s have limits you know) and prepaid bills for a couple months as customary in Romania. We started praying and rearranging money to come up with the needed adoption fees (let’s be honest, missionaries and humanitarian workers don’t exactly make big bucks). We pulled Addy out of school and her gymnastics class just a month before starting competitions. We pulled Mercy out of her kindergarten and her swim lessons. Tears of confusion streamed down her cheeks on her last day at school with her sweet best friends Tibi and Iusti. We tried to explain to our “other” kids that we would be gone just for a couple months and we would come back but I knew in my heart “gone” means “forever” in these kids’ hearts and the tears that welled up broke my heart. Our ministry director was encouraging through it all – – reminding us that God would take care of the ministry while we were gone. So with time we didn’t have and money we didn’t have, we came to California on February 29th and we met our son.

It was blurry in the beginning, jumping into mama and daddy to an adorable but freaked out little boy but it was so worth it. The nights were long and the days even longer but it was worth it. The first snuggle, the first “I love you mama” that came in April made it worth it. The girls reaching out and hugging and tickling and loving their brother made it worth it. And with time we saw him start to thrive. He began using words instead of wails, eating healthy portions of food and using the potty for pee and poo. Yes, these are life’s little successes. Don’t get me wrong, for every two steps forward we would take a step back. This is normal development for an adopted child. Noelan’s three and a half years of life are filled with loss, pain, goodbyes, fear and failures. But we were blessed to know a little better this time around how to meet his needs. So we took every day as a new start in this weird pretend life we were living in California. We morphed into homeschooling Addy and Mercy in Romanian (hello challenge) while blending a family of three kids that were strangers one day and siblings the next.

And we kept waiting. It gets tricky here but you asked, so here is the “simplified” answer. Noelan’s legal family was not completely his legal family – – because he was in the middle of an uncompleted African adoption. So his legal family couldn’t sign over parental rights until they legally completed his adoption. Maybe Christian and I are dumb, maybe we just love and trust too much, maybe we just need to have faith that Noelan needed us. But the problem is that we simply believed their word. So we plowed ahead with nothing more legal than a Power of Attorney. We did medical appointments, blood work, vaccinations and minor surgery. We did play therapy and TBRI (Karyn Purvis’ trust-based relational intervention). And we waited for April 5th when his legal family would receive the paperwork they needed to relinquish parental rights.

But they didn’t sign. We asked them why and it was a new excuse every day. We tried to explain we couldn’t stay here indefinitely while they let us babysit Noelan. We tried to remind them why they asked us to come. We tried to answer questions and be 100% open and vulnerable. All the while, the stress just grew in our little family. We tried to hide it from Addy and Mercy but they are just too smart and they would overhear something, see something, know something. And meanwhile, the love and bond between us and our new son simply strengthened. He became a mama’s boy with a deep love for daddy’s tickles. He found comfort in his relationship with Addy and mischief in his relationship with Mercy. He asked daily to visit Grammie or Pops or DohDoh or Tanner.

And we kept waiting, trying to financially afford two lives, one here in California and one in Romania. And we tried to give a grieving family time and space and love. When May rolled around and we were told that no paperwork had been signed, we were confused and devastated. There is nothing quite like loving and pouring your life into a child that you have no “legal claim” to. Our watching in desperation, knowing he has attached to his new family, us. Watching his behaviors show the beginning steps of healing, watching the successes begin to outnumber the setbacks, all the while knowing that a family he wasn’t attached to was weirdly obsessed with him. And finally, waiting as his legal family was told by the adoption agency, “You need to make a decision because Noelan is attached to his family and Noelan deserves permanency” and instead being told, “Nope we changed our minds, we want him back, we are attached to him.” Because you know, 20 days of “this child is in danger in our toxic home” is more beneficial to Noelan that 93 days in a unconditionally loving and stable environment. (sarcasm) Please don’t get me wrong – – I won’t claim perfection, simply unconditional love and safe stability. And that is what Noelan needed and deserved.

Why is he gone in a blur? Why weren’t his aunties and uncles, other grandparents or friends able to say goodbye? Maybe because on Thursday we chose Monday to take him to the adoption agency (over an hour away) and on Friday at 9a we received a call from our social worker telling us they were demanding him that day and we needed to have him in Sacramento by noon. I am so grateful that in that blur at least his Auntie DohDoh and Uncle Tanner were able to drop everything and race up to see him. And I am more than grateful for Uncle Tanner and Pops that bravely drove him to Sacramento and handed him over to a family that was acting out of selfish gain without a single concern for Noelan. And I am so grateful for Pops, that bravely tried one last time to advocate for Noelan.

And now we are here. In California without our home, but surrounded by some of the most amazing and loving family and friends. I lay awake last night, unable to sleep for most of the night, as my mind whirled and swirled, as I, Noelan’s mama, cried myself to sleep wondering if he was ok, as I woke up panicked over and over hearing his phantom cries in my head. To be the parents of a young, innocent child but not have any legal rights over him has got to be one of the worst things I have ever felt. I don’t have a lot of answers or resolution to this blog post. I would just ask that you would pray for Noelan Truth, his safety and his heart. I would ask that you would pray for Mercy Adoniyah because she feels so deep and so strongly. I would ask that you pray for Addy Grace because she loves so intensely. And I would ask that you would pray for us, our family and everyone around us. This pain is deep.