Saturday, June 28, 2014

It was the most beautiful dream ...

One of the best things I've ever seen was when my husband set up a crib we found at the thrift store.  The look on his face was priceless.  We were so close.  And now we'll be taking apart that crib, packing up the baby clothes, and saying goodbye to a dream.

It's been a whirlwind 2 months, and the story is not mine to share in detail - but just to say that we fell in love, and we really thought that God was giving us our family this summer.  We dreamed and talked about them and planned for them, and got excited when our adoption agency was so positive, and we even got some super exciting news on Father's Day. We would look at each other with unspeakable excitement as we went about our days, because we knew with each day that we were falling in love - and it was so much fun!  We picked out stuffed animals, we talked about names, we discussed plans for the future, we told parents and siblings ... we let ourselves dream. It was so much closer than we have ever gotten to adopting, and it was such a beautiful dream.

Today that dream slipped away as fast as it had appeared.  And no matter how thankful I am for another family and the joy they are having right now, I feel like I can't breath.  And I miss the family we thought we would have. I feel like I'm not whole all over again, and I feel ashamed and unworthy of the gift we thought we were being given.  I don't feel like a women all over again.  I feel like I've been kicked out of the mommy club again ... I couldn't even look at my sweet husband as he told his parents tonight.  I feel like anyone who doubted we could do it is justified and maybe we aren't cut out to be parents after all.  I feel like an idiot for believing that we were being given this miraculous dream.

And it doesn't matter that I know we will continue looking and being open to the children God may someday bless us with, because this was a real situation, and we were not just in love with the idea of a family - we were in love with THIS family.  They were (and still are) very alive and real.  We had planned for them in ways that only someone who is expecting a baby prepares.  We love them.  But, we now know they are not meant to be ours.  Remember that post a while back when I said that I was going to go ahead and dream, because it's worth it to dream, even if every dream ends with waking up?  Remember how I said that even if this dream fell apart I would choose to be grateful for the beauty of the dream?  Well, it is easier said than done, but I am trying very hard to be grateful, and to trust God and love Him even though this is unspeakably hard at the moment.

But I also feel like I should be allowed to miss them.  Sometimes, things just suck.  And, for us right now we have just lost children we were excited about coming into our family, and of course it's going to hurt.

We'll pick up the pieces, and someday we will be in the position to begin actively pursuing something else.  But right now, it feels as if someone we loved has died - and we're not allowed to go to the funeral, and we're not allowed to grieve.  Hurting doesn't mean that we can't be grateful for things learned, for the beauty of the dream, for the joy and fulfillment of the desires of others, for the beauty of God's creative miraculous artwork in making babies ... I'm choosing to find gratefulness, but that doesn't mean there are not tears.

Friday, June 6, 2014

A letter to our Someday Babies

{I don't know where, or when, or how they will come to us - but I know that someday I want them to know without question how much they were loved and wanted today}

Dear, sweet, chosen, deeply loved Someday Babies,

Today I was listening to a CD your Papa made for our journey to find you - and the song is currently one that I am loving: "If you're tossing and you're turning and you just can't fall asleep, I'll sing a song beside you; and if you ever forget how much you really mean to me, every day I will remind you."(Bruno Mars)... And I don't know, precious ones, when you will come to us, or where you are right now, I don't know if you are sleeping, or awake and unable to sleep - I don't know if you are born, or not.  But, what I do know is that you are here inside my heart already, you mean so so much to me and your Papa -  and if it takes every day for the rest of my life, I will remind you of this truth.

I love you with abandon.  

I've abandoned the thought of anything else I have ever wanted in my life.  And I would gladly abandon so much more for you sweetheart: I would abandon where I want to live, I would abandon any job that I love, I would abandon sleep, I would abandon playing in the waves alone with your Papa any time I want, I would abandon my tidy living room, I would abandon spontaneous sushi dates, and oh my children ... I would abandon so much more.  

Babies, I feel you inside my heart, like a hundred butterflies both humbly gentle and demanding of attention at the same time.  Throughout every day I think of you a million and one times, and even the rare moments when I don't have a conscious thought of you - the feeling of you is always there.  And I love you.  Every moment I love you.  So tonight my Babies, I'll lay down to sleep, and I'll hold a pillow with arms that long to hold you, and I just wanted you to know that even when I am sleeping my love for you is very wide awake.