The Miracle of Morgan

Morgan at 2 years old.

Copyright by AlWright! Publishing. May not be published without author's consent. E-mail Kym for permission to use. Other publications have asked to use this and we are eager to work with others. Just please ask first.

Writing my annual goals at New Years is a tradition. For 1994 I wrote specific goals for each child over two, also. My list complete, the next day during my time with the Lord, I sensed He wanted to add His goals to my year. One of the verses highlighted was Isaiah 49:20-21,

The children of whom you were bereaved will yet say in your ears, "The place is too cramped for me; make room for me that I may live here." Then you will say in your heart, "Who has begotten these for me. Since I have been bereaved of my children, and am barren, an exile and a wanderer? And who has reared these? Behold, I was left alone; from where did these come?"

I felt the Lord impressing on my heart that we were to adopt this year. That would be fine, except that I had six children with the last being not even 3 months old! I was not sure any adoption agency would have us. Addressing this question, I read Ezekiel 34:11. Behold, I Myself will search for My sheep and seek them out. It comforted me and gave me courage to trust God to make it happen. In my journal, I wrote "I need not search for him, God will bring him - soon." It took me four days to get up the courage to share this with my husband. I wanted his covering on my goals, his "okay," so that we were moving together. All of the other goals were fine, but this one was way out! Seven years of having adoption paperwork in our files with my side filled in and his side blank did not prepare me for his, "I can see that happening." I almost fell off my chair!

I sat back and watched God orchestrate His will in His time.

A few weeks later, Janet*, a girl from our previous church, came to our service. Needing to discuss something with the woman she was talking to, I entered their conversation. She was patting her belly, so I assumed she was pregnant. I said, "This is a special time, isn't it?" She agreed. I encouraged her by saying that I love being pregnant. She said, "Yes, but I'm giving my baby up for adoption." I sympathized and offered, "I would love to adopt your child." She responded, "But, he's ..." I interrupted, "Biracial?" "Yes." I assured her, "That doesn't matter." She pounced on me, asking if I would really do this. I assured her again, informing her that I do have six children. Then I showed her the verse in Isaiah. She was overwhelmed. Her desires for placing the child were very specific: a loving Christian home, other siblings, limited television, preferably a white family. (The agency she was with placed biracial and handicap children in Spanish-black homes.) We met her criteria.

Then our pastor, being in a foster care situation yet wanting to adopt the child in his home, was contacted by a lawyer. This lawyer's desire is to help Christian couples adopt children less expensively. He wanted to help my pastor adopt their foster child. The pastor gave him our name and number and he called us! We didn't even have to go looking for a lawyer! God was doing something! Over the next few months, Janet and I got to know one another. She called every day, wanting to chat (I had to limit the calls and the emotional support I was willing to be for her, looking towards the awkward position of being the adoptive mother and her support system). Janet, my husband, and I talked with our pastor about limits and boundaries after the pregnancy.

Then we ran into the wall of the biological father. When informed of the pregnancy, he had told Janet that he would not help financially, and that he would not let her adopt, his mother would raise the baby for him. Janet refused for her child to be raised in that poverty situation. However, he had more legal rights to this child than we did. God would have to move. In the long run, we were faithful to the vision, but my husband and I were going from high to low. From yes to no. From this is right to what are we doing?! I wish we could say we were faithful to the vision. We were at times, but we questioned at others.

Again, I turned to the Lord asking for encouragement about the situation with the father. God so graciously affirmed His will, fortifying our hearts with Jeremiah 47:3c: "The fathers have not turned back for their children."

Adoption Day! The Final Hearing. Morgan became ours! From left to right: Mark Wright, Kym Wright, Morgan Wright (in my arms), the Judge, and Scott, our adoption lawyer

I was comforted, but desired proof. The lawyer went with Janet to find the father's address to notify him of his rights, and the responsibilities that went along with it. He was nowhere to be found. Not at either workplace, not by telephone (disconnected), nor at home (he moved). This guy did not want to be found. I held fast to the verse. Preparing for the adoption, I queried pediatricians and nurses and came to the conclusion that the first feeding was one of the most important for the baby. If he was to be breast-fed (remember, I had a newborn still nursing!), then he needed breast milk the most at that first feeding. Not just the milk, but from the breast. They can aspirate easiest right after birth, and even though I had prepared bottles of my milk, the hospital would require him to be fed a bottle of water if he were not to be put to the breast. N

ot wanting to impose on her time with the baby, but trying to do what was best for him, I talked with Janet about it. She wanted to have the first 24 hours with her baby in the hospital. Janet made a threat, but we worked it out. One day, being so new to adoption, and open adoption, at that, I said, "Lord, I need a some encouragement." That very day, I received a magazine with articles about adoption. Not just any adoption, but adopting biracial and nonwhite babies and children. I read and cried. Then I called the lady who wrote one of the articles, who has adopted six children, four of whom are nonwhites. She said that my emotions were typical in an adoption. She said that Janet's threat was her way of saying that the time with her child was very important to her. Another question I had was, Will I be able to love this child? The woman who wrote the article encouraged me that for the first month all I would see was color, then after that I would merely see the person.

Labor began a month early and our little Morgan was born. He was in my arms nursing within hours. Janet and I got along well in the hospital. She held him, fed him bottles of breast milk; I came and nursed when I could. When he was only 25 hours old, we left the hospital with our precious bundle. My concern about loving this child was gone within the first day with him. When someone at church asked whose baby he was, I answered, "He's mine. Janet gave birth to him, but he is my baby." My heart was overwhelmed with love.