Rock It, Sis.

“She has an un-repaired cleft lip and palate of the 3rd degree…” our caseworker told me as I sat in the packed out DMV (worst place on earth, replacing my ID yet again…I should have a frequent flyer punch card or something).  She was describing what then was referred to as “the file” she was going to send us.  She asked if I wanted to see “the file” and I said YES, of course.

I sat stunned.  I was about to have “the file” in my inbox.  The long awaited possible “file”.

And I was at the blasted DMV, without Brent, so there would be no opening it until I was done.  I heard the “ding” of the email notification and my blood pressure went through the roof.  I was going to have to WAIT to view “the file” until the DMV fiasco was done and I would then have to drive across town so I could view it with the hubby.

I was cool as a cucumber (thick sarcasm).

LITERALLY ME.

After “Flash” processed my new ID and snapped a photo of me I bolted to my car and broke a million traffic laws to get to my husband…the little red notification number “1” taunting me in my inbox.

As I drove the words came to me again:

“I have to give you a heads up, this little one has a pretty severe cleft lip and palate.  It’s a third degree, Bi-lateral cleft lip and palate.”

While driving I googled (told you…broke all the laws).  And upon googling learned that 3rd degree is the highest degree a cleft can be…and bi-lateral meant both sides…and oh my word did you know that you can have an entire cleft face…oh the pictures…

Google = a spiral into all possible worst case scenarios that exist on God’s green earth… oh and here’s a photo of that worst case scenario right here.

I was gripped by emotions.  I couldn’t place them.  Was it fear, disappointment, curiosity…was it that she was mine and I knew it already…was I bracing myself for the worst…or was it elation, joy, anticipation.

It was all of the above.

Brent and I sat down at my computer and opened the email, clicked on the links to get to the pictures AND THEY DIDN’T WORK.  None of them would open.

What in the actual heck.  I frantically called our case worker, left her a voicemail and sent her two emails in the span of 45 seconds.

And then we waited.

As we waited we began to talk about what we could be facing when we opened that file.  How severe was it?  What would she look like?  What would THAT look like?  Surgeries?  How many…how expensive?  All. the. things.

My heart was racing and I could feel the uncertainty tightening in my chest.

And then it was time.  The links were resent and we opened “the file” and there she was.

My daughter.  And I knew it.

It was bad.  My heart broke, shattered into a million pieces, that my little love was suffering.  That she had not been tended to.

It was not your traditional hop up and down, giddy, puppies and rainbows baby reveal.

It felt heavy.  And sacred.

A feeling of grief flooded me.  Grief for what my little love was experiencing, grief that her face told a story of deep trauma and abandonment.  A grieving of the perfect, healthy “normal” child that society breeds in your heart that you “deserve”.

But then another emotion…… THE URGE TO FIGHT.

Immediately I felt the claw-your-eyes-out-if-you-mess-with-my-kid kind of love.

I knew she was mine.  But that didn’t change my fear, my grief, the uncertainty, the back and forth fight in my heart that lasted the few days leading up to our “YES”.  The long line of questions and scenarios.  The late nights of reading and watching documentaries…..it was exhausting.

In one such struggle moment I did what I should have done from SECOND ONE of seeing my little love…I asked Jesus.

And we all know the answer.

He is attracted to suffering, to the outcast, the marginalized, the not so perfect…it’s SO HIM.

And He spoke strongly on behalf of my Esther to her mama:

“She will be a tongue to the nations.  The very thing that has disqualified her in the eyes of the world, I knit together ON PURPOSE.  I will use that thing to bring myself glory and out of her mouth will come words of freedom.”

Hold on one sec while I pull over the car and weep for an hour.  Cuz that’s exactly what happened.

How dare I, for one second, hesitate?  She was knit together, purposed, formed…this was no surprise to her creator…to the potter who shaped her the way He did in His great pleasure.

And right then and there I decided, SHE IS MINE.

And you know what?

We’re gonna ROCK IT.  We are going to take on her “special need” with pride and with our heads held high.

We’re not going to speak a disclosure before showing her picture.  People can see what’s going on and process that on their own.  We’re not going to preface her introduction in a way that makes others more comfortable.

She is who she is and she is perfect in every way.

Bring on the stares, the questions, the comments, the well meaning attempts to make us feel better…like this one I experienced a few weeks ago:

“Let me see a picture of Esther!  I can’t wait to see her.”  – sweet woman

“Oh sure!  Of course.  Here she is.” – me

Silence.  “Well…you know what…she is gonna be so beautiful one day.” – sweet woman (the sweet is sort of wearing off at this point)

My external self smiled and nodded and walked away.

My internal self was removing earrings and shoes in preparation for a proper street fight.

And Liv?  What does she think about all this?

When she unwrapped the surprise framed photo of her little sis her face told the whole story.

She looked at the photo strangely for a long few minutes and then, without looking away from it asked,  “Why’s her tongue up her nose?”

Bless it.

“That’s not her tongue darling, that’s her lip, and her teeth and well…it’s hard to explain.”

We did our best to explain it to her in detail.  Told her about the surgeries.  Told her about the way we would fight for her as a family and how we would ROCK IT!

And she took the fight on right with us.

So much so that before I would show friends and family her sister’s picture for the first time she would yell: “LOOK AT HER FACE.”

Ok sis.  We’ve got to find a happy medium.  Not ashamed, very proud, rockin’ it,  but not proclaiming to the world to “check out her face”.

We are ready to look her in the eyes and say, “Rock it, sis.”

Cleft:  split, divided, or partially divided into two