by Jessica Satterfield | Aug 15, 2018 | Adoption, Special Needs
Dear Teacher,
I hope you’ve had a great summer! It was so great to meet you today and put a face to the name I’ve been praying for all summer. You see, I’m not used to being on the other side of the table. I sat in your chair for so many years, excited to see the little faces staring back at me, and watched as their parents wrung their hands as they shared every detail of their child’s life.
I didn’t understand then, but I do now. Now that I’m on the other side of the table.
Remember in school, when they taught you that every child is different and learns in different ways? Remember how you learned all of those strategies to reach every learner? Can you promise me you’ll remember those this year?
by Jessica Satterfield | Mar 18, 2018 | Adoption, Faith, Infertility, Special Needs
We were made to be seen.
We long to be noticed.
Because if we are seen, then maybe we’ll be understood.
The loneliest times in my life have been filled with moments such as these.
by Jessica Satterfield | Sep 27, 2017 | Adoption, Guest Posts, Infertility, Special Needs
I’m honored to have my friend, Jessica, sharing her story with you today. She is also an adoptive mom, has had a miracle pregnancy, and is also mama to a child with special needs . When things have been really hard with Micah, I’ve reached out the her, simply to know I’m not alone. Our boys came home to us within weeks of each other. They both are the strongest boys I know, and have taught their mamas truly what it looks like to be brave.
by Jessica Satterfield | Mar 23, 2017 | Special Needs, Uncategorized
We waited three and a half hours to see the Neuro Surgeon that day.
We sat in those hard chairs with a fussy ten month old and took turns walking him around the waiting room. We watched our favorite Peds Surgery nurse take back patients one by one, all the while, waiting on the Neuro nurse to call Micah’s name. We kept looking at our watches, because we had a benefit to attend that night and perfectly scheduled grandparents to keep Selah for that appointment and then the benefit. The minutes turned into hours and we knew we weren’t making it.
Finally. They called our name.
Micah had been having trouble stabilizing his blood sugar so our pediatrician wanted to take a peek at this pituitary gland on a MRI, just to rule it out. We totally weren’t concerned at all about this MRI. But he called me a few days later and asked me if I was sitting down and if Brandon was home. I remember telling him Brandon was upstairs getting ready to go into work (he works night shift), and I told him I couldn’t sit down I was cooking supper. (Mom’s don’t sit down at 5 pm.)
by Jessica Satterfield | Aug 16, 2016 | Adoption, Infertility, Special Needs
When I was a little girl playing with my baby dolls, I imagined the white picket fence, four blonde babes running around the house with loose curls, and eyes so blue you could almost dive right in. I dreamt of all the times I would laugh when the youngest said “pecans” like me, and our oldest son would of course be the star of the baseball team like his daddy.
When my husband and I married, our plan for the future looked identical to the one I dreamed of as a child. Wrapped up nice and tidy with a cute bow. We would have the sweet little house, great jobs, and get pregnant the first few months of trying. And that would be our life.
Perfect. Safe. Normal.
Then after several years of trying to get pregnant and enduring months of infertility treatments, I sat in the floor of my bathroom with the last negative pregnancy test, and all of those dreams came crashing down. We would never have children that had my husband’s eyes or my smile. And after a little grieving what could have been, I would soon learn to be okay with that.
It’s funny how we do that to ourselves. How we plan our lives to look how we think they should. When really the Father has plans so immeasurable, that are ours for the taking, if we only trust Him.
He met me on the bathroom floor that morning. Offering me an intimacy with Him, I would never have known otherwise. He held a broken heart and lots of broken dreams, and invited me into a story much sweeter than I could ever imagine.
When I was a little girl playing with my baby dolls, I imagined the white picket fence, four blonde babes running around the house with loose curls, and eyes so blue you could almost dive right in. I dreamt of all the times I would laugh when the youngest said “pecans” like me, and our oldest son would of course be the star of the baseball team like his daddy.
When my husband and I married, our plan for the future looked identical to the one I dreamed of as a child. Wrapped up nice and tidy with a cute bow. We would have the sweet little house, great jobs, and get pregnant the first few months of trying. And that would be our life.
Perfect. Safe. Normal.
Then after several years of trying to get pregnant and enduring months of infertility treatments, I sat in the floor of my bathroom with the last negative pregnancy test, and all of those dreams came crashing down. We would never have children that had my husband’s eyes or my smile. And after a little grieving what could have been, I would soon learn to be okay with that.
Recent Comments