A Daughter - Part 4

No matter how open the adoption is, even if the child understands, and agrees with the reason behind the decision of adoption, there is going to be pain all around; it's inevitable. That's the bad news. But the good news is that my God heals. Physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually; I know this from experience. A huge part of this story is how God worked, and is currently working in my heart dealing with my adoption, and my birth-parents.

One of the things we did in Fire in the Night was called "Pure Heart". It was a two day session that dealt with all the wounds we obtain in our life-time. This seminar type teaching was based on the book "Pure Heart" (fantastic book, I would highly recommend it) which focuses on life pains such as the "Mother wound" and the "Father wound". Everyone has these types of hurts. Even if we were to have the best mother or father, they are still human beings and aren't perfect. God brought up some stuff in my heart, including a hurt that came from my birth-mother. I never thought that I had anything against her. I always completely understood why she did what she did, and agreed with her decision. But in this session, during the ministry time where we allowed God to begin healing, I realized  that I was hurt. I sat on the floor sobbing, and the only thing I could say was "I miss her". I said that phrase over and over again until I felt like I couldn't cry anymore. They say the unborn and infants develop a connection with the woman that is carrying them. They can recognize her voice and they respond to the mother's emotions as well. I guess I never knew that I had that bond with Alisha, until I began to heal from our separation.

During my first week in Kansas City, God really revealed Himself to me as a Father. If you can remember, in part 2 of my blog, I wrote about how Steve came to visit me in the hospital, but he refused to hold me. There was one night, beginning of October, where I walked into the church service and the worship team was singing a song with the lyrics  "You are a good, good Father" That caught my attention. A few minutes later, they went on to sing "He seeks you, He finds you, He holds you, He never lets you go". I immediately broke down. Long story short, this is what I came to realize and believe that night: 

The love and acceptance of my birth-father will not sustain me. But I already have the Love and Acceptance of my heavenly Father. I am His daughter, and out of all His children, I am His favorite one. He chose me. He is my Father, my Daddy. I can crawl up on His lap anytime I please. He has adopted me into His heavenly family. I am no longer a child of the world but a child of the Most High. He delights in me, He rejoices over me. I don't need to work for His approval because I have already received it. He sees me as innocent and pure in heart. I am a princess; but not a wimpy Disney princess! I am a princess in the courts of heaven because my Father is the King of Kings and I walk in and under His authority. Yes, I am worthy of His love. Because He paid the price for me. If I was the only one on this planet, He still would have sent Jesus to die, for me! Even if I had the best earthly father on the planet, his love could not compare to the love of God. Abandonment and rejection cannot accompany me to the throne room any longer because I am no longer abandoned or rejected!

For the first time in my life, I felt like a daughter. I felt what I always imagined a Father-daughter relationship would feel like. Bruce Kotila, my dad, is amazing. But he is human too. I came to realize that the One who will always hold me, support me, and accept me no matter what is the One who created me, who breathed life into my lungs and gave me this chance at life that I am so grateful for. Nothing can beat that.

Psalm 34:18

     The Lord is near to those who have a broken heart, and saves those who are crushed in spirit.

Hosea 14:3b

     ...For in You the fatherless finds mercy.

A Letter - Part 3

Between my birthday, and my leaving for Kansas City, I worked on writing Alisha a letter. Well, honestly, it was pretty much done about a week after my birthday, but I didn't have the courage to send it to her until the day before I left home at the end of September.
For two months, I read and re-read the letter I was going to send to my birth-mother, expressing my desire to finally take the next step in our relationship. What would she think? How would it take place? When would it happen? Did I really want to? Was I really ready for this?
But I sent it, September 28th. In the letter I had expressed how happy I was to have received her journal and how all my life, being adopted was a huge part of who I was, and I loved sharing my history with people. But most importantly, I told her that I didn't just want to meet her, but I wanted to be apart of her and her family's life. I then gave her my Kansas City address just in case she wanted to write me back while I was there.

About a month into my internship, I received two letters on October 21st. One was from my parents, celebrating my, what we fondly call my "gotcha day", or in other words, the day that I was officially adopted. The other was from Alisha; it was her response to my proposal of taking the next step in our relationship.
She began the letter informally, asking how Kansas City was and talking about how school was going for her (she was getting her masters in public health). She then went on to say how having a daughter was also something that was a big part of her life and she would love to start thinking about the next step. "Let's keep writing and see where that takes us."
How should I respond to that? I had always envisioned my first meeting with her in Texas, where she lived. But I didn't feel like I couldn't just invite myself. That is rude in any situation, and this time, I felt that it was even less of an option. Her coming to Omaha? I guess that would be ok, but with my parents there...it just didn't feel right.
I decided all I could do was wait. I didn't respond and continued to hope that someday everything would work out the way it should.

A Birthday - Part 2

July 28th 2010. My 18th birthday.

I was finally 18! An adult, graduated, moving to Kansas City...I felt on top of the world! I didn't know that this would be my most emotional birthday yet. 

The day started off pretty normally. I spent some time with my at-the-time boyfriend Carl, watching the new Alice in Wonderland movie. Then I went off to the gym to work out with my best friend Arielle, followed by a nice birthday lunch at Red Robin. Nothing too special. I came home to a pile of birthday cards that had come in that day's mail, and of course my favorite of all, a box from Alisha. I wanted to save that one until last, but I quickly opened and read all the other greetings before taking her package down to my room.
Plopping down on my bed, I opened the box, read her beautifully penned birthday card (I defiantly did not get her good handwriting!) and unwrapped the thin, square shaped gift. It was a journal.

The journal started December 13th 1991, a week after Alisha found out she was pregnant, and went until September 1993, when I was a little over a year old. I had heard bits and pieces of my "back-round" story, but this is something I had never dreamed of holding in my hands. The whole story, with Alisha's emotions woven into it.

Alisha was 16 when she got pregnant with me. Her father, Paul, took it hard when he found out. She later told me she thought he saw it as a reflection on his parenting. He scheduled an abortion for December 17th.
3 days.
I, who I was as a fetus, had 3 days to live.
When I sit back and look at what that really meant, I thank God for saving my life. I was 3 days away from not being born. 3 days away from not living my life that I now love so much. 3 days away from not being who I have been created to be. Millions of unborn babies have not been as blessed as I have. This is why my heart is for the ones who have been silenced...because I was almost one of them, and I believe with all my heart, that each child, no matter the circumstances of their conception, has the same right to life as I was given.
Alisha apparently felt the same way. She expressed in her journal the disagreement with her father's decision and said she would run away if it meant protecting her baby. Well, I don't know what changed Paul's heart, but sometime before the 17th, he gave her the choice. Abortion, or adoption. Alisha gladly accepted the latter, saying "I was so happy that I didn't have to kill the baby, so I agreed. It deserved a loving family".

The journal went on showing me the emotional ups and downs Alisha had during her pregnancy . From her entertaining thoughts and ideas of how she really could raise me if she worked hard enough, to her realizing that I deserved much more than a one-room apartment and nothing but a hug on Christmas morning, to her hoping and praying that I wouldn't resent her for this choice she had made.

By this time, it was getting hard for me to finish reading, because my eyes were so blurry with tears.
The rest of the journal consisted of more stories and emotional struggles, including Steve moving in with his new girlfriend about a month before I was born, Alisha receiving a 4.0 in her junior year studies, and how the baby, me, had hiccups the day before she was induced on the 28th of July. (Which I love, because my friends have always told me I have the most unique sounding hiccups!)
Then I was born.
Alisha named me Carley Ann. Steve (my birth-father) did come to visit me, but did not want to hold me. Paul did not come to the hospital at all. Alisha's mother, who had been supporting her the entire pregnancy, was there, and took many pictures.
October 20th, 1992 my adoption was finalized. The reason why it took so long was because Steve had left, nobody knew where he was, and also, Alisha kept changing her mind. She even bought a car seat and diaper bag for me.
There was one day when she was arguing with her parents, trying to convince them that she could do what it took to raise me, but finally Kathy said something to her that stopped her in her tracks. "Alisha, what if this baby girl has an amazing talent for playing the piano, but you as a single parent, cannot provide piano lessons for her?" Alisha took a walk and spent some time with God, asking Him about it, and came to the conclusion that her parents were right. Imagine Alisha's face 12 years later when she received from me, a CD of various piano selections that I had recorded for a piano lesson project. God always knows what He is doing.
The journal ended with an entry in September 1993 where Alisha shared that she had gotten a tattoo on her hip of a rose with the name Carley Ann on it (although my parents had obviously changed my name to Katherine Diane by this time).

I closed the journal, my mind racing. I knew that from that day on, my life had been changed. A new door had been opened and there was no way of closing it. This, what was written in the journal, was how I came to be, how my life began. This was the story God gave to me. What was I going to do with it? I had no idea.
But to start, I knew that now, I was ready to make the next step; meeting the woman who had chosen life, and brought me into this world.    

Me, Katherine Diane, July 28th 1992

                

A Question - Part 1

"Would you want Alisha and her parents to come to your graduation?"

My dad's question threw me off guard. It was late spring 2010 when the journey to a new open door in my life began. Already ridden with "senioritis" for the past...year, I was eagerly looking forward to my high school graduation. I was 17, and almost done with what is potentially the most important 4 years in a young adults life. I had plans to attend the Fire in the Night Internship at the International House of Prayer in Kansas City, MO that next September and it seemed like my life was coming together. I was ready for this next step, but it was a bitter-sweet feeling I had about everything.

My dad, Bruce Kotila, was a Lutheran pastor, and in February 2008, had accepted a new job at Thanksgiving! Lutheran Church in Bellevue Nebraska. I had grown up in the great state of Minnesota and the move to Nebraska the summer before my junior year had probably been the hardest thing I had ever done. I left behind family, friends, a small school, and a great theater company I worked with. It had taken me about 6 months to get accustomed to my new surroundings, especially in my church. I would go to services every Sunday, but only because I was supposed to. I really didn't want a whole lot to do with the youth group, which ended up being one of the best things to happen to me. So now, a year after finally accepting where God had placed me, I felt like I was about to leave something amazing, that I had just received.

My biological mother Alisha and I had had contact my entire life. Before I was old enough to write letters and understand what adoption was, my adoptive mom, Barb Kotila, had always done a fantastic job of keeping Alisha up to date as to my growth, personality, and life, along with many pictures. Then she and I started corresponding through the mail, sending birthday and Christmas presents, sharing stories. Then in 2007, as a 15 year old, I joined the much-loved networking site, Facebook. Not long after, Alisha did as well and we did most of of our talking online. Her mother, Kathy Herrick, and I kept in contact in very much the same ways, just not as frequently. Between the years of 2007 and 2010, I became "Facebook friends" with some member's of Alisha's family. Along with Kathy, there was John, Alisha's younger brother, and Meshell, her sister-in-law, who was married to her older brother, Jim.

It was exciting having some of the Herrick family as my "friends". As an aspiring writer, and a new photographer, I always hoped that they would see, and love, the things like photos and poems that I would post on Facebook. Other than my most recent crush at the time, they were the people that I most hoped would comment on whatever clever status or cute picture I had.

So this new idea, this question that was asked of me, threw me, and my newly forming life through a loop. My biological mother and her parents coming to my graduation? Oh, man. Would I love that? Of course. I had dreamed about meeting Alisha Herrick for as long as I could remember. But was I ready for it? I realized at that moment that I was not.

Alisha Herrick, 2009