Maundy Thursday. The day of betrayal. On that night, two thousand years ago, Jesus was betrayed by one His chosen disciples, even as He was demonstrating absolute obedience to the Father.
Maundy Thursday 2011 was the day of our betrayal as well. Or at least of its discovery.
I awoke that morning with the acute realization that the twins were coming any day. Though their due date was May 20th, they were expected before the end of April. After all, the birth mother was 44 years old and carrying twins. The time had come for us to bring babies home!
Maundy Thursday afternoon, I received a call, but not the one I was hoping for. A friend of a friend of a friend (who wishes to remain anonymous) wanted Ken and I to know that our birth mother had faked a pregnancy the year before, and that if we were involved with her, we needed to be very careful.
Faked a pregnancy? Surely not. She was huge! She had thin extremities, and a protuberant abdomen that we had watched grow over months.
We had been asking our attorney for proof of pregnancy from the birth mother since we started paying her living expenses, but our attorney’s response had always been, “Well, it is hard to trust . . . ” while still telling us that we were required to pay the birth mother’s living expenses.
I began to backtrack.
The Pregnancy Care Center. The birth mother had been seen there initially for services before we even met her. No, they had not done a pregnancy test.
Agape. The adoption agency we were paying to do birth mother counseling. No, they had never confirmed she was pregnant.
Friends who were going with her to appointments. Every time they were available to go to a OB appointment, the birth mother would have a reason to cancel. When they weren’t available to go, she would go by herself.
Vanderbilt Medical Center. She had been receiving prenatal care there because she was classified as high risk. No such patient existed in their medical record system.
The more I searched for information and asked questions, the more I realized how little we actually knew. What I did find revealed that everything she had told us was likely not true. She did not live at the place we had been paying rent. Her home had not been flooded in May 2010. Her husband had not left her for Ghana. We weren’t even sure of her real name.
Finally, a face-to-face confrontation: We didn’t believe her story. Either take a pregnancy test to prove pregnancy right then, or it was over. No more money. No more support, from us or anyone else.
The “birth mother” walked out the door and has not been seen since.
6 thoughts on “Betrayal”
I knew this blog entry was coming at some point, but it still left me feeling just as angry as I was the day I heard the news from Rondy. I can’t imagine the betrayal you felt as well as the grief. However, your story does not end here. And I can’t wait to continue to read, watch, and follow your adoption story. And most importantly, I cannot wait to meet and hug on the children God places in your family. Hugs!
Thanks for joining me on this journey. Thank you too for being angry alongside us. That may sound strange– and I hate to have been a part of a situation that made you angry– but it lets me know that you care beyond just pleasant emotions but to the real stuff like anger. And you’re right. The story does not end here!
Betrayal is the theme I wrote about for CWC’s Good Friday Service in 2010. I know all to well that feeling one gets in the pit of your stomach when you start to realize you have been betrayed. I’m so sorry you experienced this, Robin and Ken, but I am thankful you are allowing God to redeem the pain and to renew your hope as you continue your journey.
My heart is broken for you all over again, Robin and Ken. Wow. This must not have been an easy post to write. I know that in writing about it you almost have to relive it. But I’m sure you relive it daily. What is amazing is that “I can do all things through Christ” and ” ‘I know the plans I have for you’ says the Lord, ‘Plans to give you a future and a hope’ “. I’m so glad you had His arms to fall back into, and those same arms to lift you back up when you were ready. I am so excited to read the rest of your story as it unfolds. What a testimony you will be able to share!
As a writer yourself (and much moreso than I), I’m sure you can imagine that writing the story is somewhat cathartic. And for a writer, writing the story down makes it real, but in many ways makes it rest. It took a while to be able to do it, but I’m glad I am. God has a very good story He wants to tell.
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