This is kind of a scary post to share. This is one of those things that makes me totally vulnerable to the world in a way I usually prefer to reserve only for my husband and my mama.
We are going to adopt someday. For some reason it seems like God is telling us it’s not time yet. I don’t know why. Maybe our child hasn’t been born yet, or maybe he or she isn’t in the adoption system yet. Maybe they still have some things to learn so they can teach them to us. I don’t know.
But the thing is, it’s really hard to be patient.
I don’t expect everyone to understand, but I already love this other child so much that it breaks my heart and makes me cry sometimes. Like this past weekend, when we were walking through the bookstore. I am admittedly a fairly emotional person any ways, but I was suddenly overwhelmed with this deep sense of grief and loss because I miss my child and I couldn’t help but cry.
My heart is just aching and hurting so badly because I want to be holding my child and telling him or her that I love them, that I loved them even before I knew them. I sometimes don’t know how I’m going to get through the day knowing that only one of my children is safe at home with me. What if my other baby is out there somewhere, lying in bed with an empty belly or living in fear of whatever lies ahead of and behind them? What if they’re being abused or neglected? What if no one gave them any affection today, or told them they are special and loved, or simply gave them a smile?
I don’t know how long we’re meant to wait until it’s time to adopt. Maybe a few months, maybe a few years. I have to say though, this is really hard. I don’t really know how I am going to get through every minute of every day until that time feeling like my child is missing, like my son’s sibling isn’t here.
If someone came up to me and said “You’re going to be the mother of an eight-year-old girl from Botswana in two years and she is going to feel happy and loved every day with you as her mother,” I feel like I’d finally be able to calm down. I’d still miss her and be excited to meet her, but I’d feel so much more at peace. I’d find out everything I could about Botswana and I’d figure out a way to bring her into our world and give her our love and our faith but keep her culture alive for her.
Instead, I wait. I imagine a boy or a girl and I imagine him or her at various ages and from various countries. I think about the language barriers we may face, the emotional wounds we may have to help heal, the physical ailments and disabilities we may have to learn to work around. I think about how we’ll celebrate their birthday AND adoption day, how we’ll awkwardly fumble through hugs at first, and how we’ll very quickly fall into a rhythm and wonder how our family ever existed without him or her.
Last night I did something new, something I wish I’d started doing a long time ago. When we settled into bed and said our bedtime prayers, after we’d prayed for our family and the family of the child we’re sponsoring through Compassion, I prayed for our other child. I prayed that if they aren’t born yet that God will help my heart to be strong until we meet him or her… and I prayed that if they are born, that they go to sleep tonight feeling happy, healthy, safe and loved. If you pray, will you do me a favor? Will you say a prayer tonight for our someday child?
Though my heart is torn, I will praise you in this storm.