Moments Like These

Did you know I'm already the mother of my own personal three ring circus? I, myself, was not aware of this fact until a couple of years ago when we did some family counseling. But seated in that tiny room listening to my children explain just how life was in our home, I realized that it was far more exciting than how I remembered it. Quite frankly, to my children it seems, we're a non-stop source of action and entertainment.

It wasn't always this way. My eldest child, who is now seventeen, wasn't my first pregnancy, he was my third. Within the first year of marriage, I had suffered not one, but two, miscarriages. It left both my body and my spirit bruised and battered. I didn't want to spend time with people who had babies, didn't want to hold or even look at a baby, didn't want to discuss babies, period.

So, when that third pregnancy came to be, I just put it in the back of my mind and didn't do much in the way of celebration. I ate healthy, got my sleep, drank my water, attended my appointments like I was on auto-pilot. I didn't even buy the first outfit for that precious little boy till after we had an ultrasound two weeks before he came into the world. It was an act of self-preservation. Not only was I scared to hope that this baby would come to be mine, but I had convinced myself that pregnancy was a never-to-be thing on my list of life experiences.

I guess you could say I've been walking through this adoption in much the same way. It's had moments of excitement and joy. I've loved sharing with friends, family, even strangers about our journey. But, I've also held a piece of myself in check. She's the piece that is in protection mode, hoping to prevent any pain should this whole thing fall apart. I just can't be in a state of excitement 24/7. I don't have the energy. There are just too many unknowns.

But then there are the days when the truth of this adoption comes into focus and I. Can't. Breathe. My heart physically aches and there is nothing I want more than to sprint to the finish line. To jump on the next plane and get to her. Now. Today. This minute. This second.

Last week I was emailing my social worker about the completion of our biometric fingerprinting. When she heard we had already completed this process, in her words, "we need to get rolling with your dossier to
make sure it is ready to go when you get approval!"

It may seem silly, but reading that email was one of those moments. I went into panic mode. It was as if someone had floored the gas pedal and we hit 0 to 60 in less than a few seconds. We're out of money. We need to get photos printed and birth certificates ordered and I have questions about what documents we can use that we already have. There's so much to do and we need to get it done!

AAAAHHHHH!!!!!

I was texting a friend about my jumbled up nerves, and I typed, "This is really happening!"

I could squeeze her in the tightest hug for her response,

"Yes, it is really happening....your daughter is waiting for you"

That's right. My daughter. Is waiting. 

There was that familiar ache of longing. There was that momma instinct that says, I have to get to her. I may try to act like it isn't there most days, but it doesn't go away. Even in the waiting. Even when the bank account is empty and there's another obstacle that has reared its ugly head. 

When we started this process of trying to decide whether we were really called to adoption, Mike and I both took a time of prayer and fasting. I dug my journal out this morning and read again the entry from March 27, 2012. Not much has changed since that time...

"This is my first day of fasting and prayer for you. For some focus, some guidance, some askance for insight that I am on the right path.

My stomach is empty and yearning for sustenance. It rumbles and gurgles, a little achey, a little nauseated. Is this how you feel? Are they feeding you enough that you make it through the day without needing more? Do you have energy to move and think and explore? Does your body have what it needs to grow?

And, if you have enough to eat, are there other things you hunger for? Does someone smile at your precious face each and every day? Call you by name? Hold you close so you can physically feel what love is?

So many questions and thoughts I have about you. But today isn't about the color of your eyes or whether your hair is straight or curly. Today is about nourishment, body and soul. Today is about wanting to give you what I have in abundance and praying it's enough. Knowing that God's enough to fill in the gaps and the empty spaces when I can't. Knowing He sees you right now, wherever you are, and praying He brings some comfort your way. Some food. Some warmth. A smile to light your day. A tender touch that lets you know you are not alone. 

We love you and are waiting for the day you arrive.

A father of the fatherless and a judge for the widows, is God in His holy Habitation. 

Psalm 68:5"

Nope. Hasn't changed much at all. Amen.