And I was reminded of the reality that we truly are starting over.
Based on where we were with our Russia adoption, we believe we were days away from receiving our referral (the child's picture, age & region). We worked hard and quickly to get our paper work completed and had waited for 6 months. Our hearts were building with anticipation and then this past weekend, the adrenaline of the last couple of months subsided and I sat on the couch after she left in an overwhelmed state of frustration.
I looked in front of me at the new stack of paper work that needed to be completed. Documents that needed to be mailed out. Phone calls that need to be made. Papers that have to wait on other papers before they can get mailed out. Months of paper work that lay ahead of us before we can get to the "waiting phase"...again.
I looked in front of me at the new stack of paper work that needed to be completed. Documents that needed to be mailed out. Phone calls that need to be made. Papers that have to wait on other papers before they can get mailed out. Months of paper work that lay ahead of us before we can get to the "waiting phase"...again.
Now, I do know that there are much worse situations that I can be in. I also know that in many ways, this is the path we have chosen. But I have to be honest with my feelings. Sometimes it just doesn't feel fair.
I look at families who strategically plan out the ages of their children, most of whom are 2 years apart. And somehow, miraculously, it works. I look at my 5 year old son and think about the fact that he will probably be 7 before his sister even comes home. This just isn't the way I envisioned our family plan.
I wanted the 2 years apart playmates. I wanted the pregnancy. I wanted "my" plan to work. And though I absolutely am passionate about adoption, about my son, about my daughter, about the story God has written for us and how He has redeemed our barrenness...sometimes, the pain of infertility rears it's ugly head in my heart and I mourn again the loss of the broken dream.
I get frustrated over how easy some people have it when it comes to having babies. There is this strange and beautiful marriage of sorrow and joy within my soul. The deep sorrow of dreams lost, mix with the love and generosity that came through adoption.
On most days, joy wins. I look in the face of my son and never once doubt that he was meant for our family. He brings life and laughter and joy to my soul on a daily basis. But some days, sorrow wins. Like today.
I cling to the hope of God's word that sorrow may last for a night, hope is rising with the sun. With this, God brings me back to His heart with a comforting peace. And it's okay to feel sadness. This does not mean that I don't love the story God has written for our family, it simply means these emotions can happen together. Joy and sadness all in one heart, all at one time.
UPDATES:
I look at families who strategically plan out the ages of their children, most of whom are 2 years apart. And somehow, miraculously, it works. I look at my 5 year old son and think about the fact that he will probably be 7 before his sister even comes home. This just isn't the way I envisioned our family plan.
I wanted the 2 years apart playmates. I wanted the pregnancy. I wanted "my" plan to work. And though I absolutely am passionate about adoption, about my son, about my daughter, about the story God has written for us and how He has redeemed our barrenness...sometimes, the pain of infertility rears it's ugly head in my heart and I mourn again the loss of the broken dream.
I get frustrated over how easy some people have it when it comes to having babies. There is this strange and beautiful marriage of sorrow and joy within my soul. The deep sorrow of dreams lost, mix with the love and generosity that came through adoption.
On most days, joy wins. I look in the face of my son and never once doubt that he was meant for our family. He brings life and laughter and joy to my soul on a daily basis. But some days, sorrow wins. Like today.
I cling to the hope of God's word that sorrow may last for a night, hope is rising with the sun. With this, God brings me back to His heart with a comforting peace. And it's okay to feel sadness. This does not mean that I don't love the story God has written for our family, it simply means these emotions can happen together. Joy and sadness all in one heart, all at one time.
UPDATES:
- We have completed our home study interview. Now we wait for it to sent to the US government for approval
- Once this happens, we begin on documents that are specific to India.
PRAYER REQUESTS:
- that we don't lose heart heading into yet another season of waiting
- for our little girl, somewhere in India, that God would be preparing her heart for our family
Until next Monday,
love: Kate, Steve & Dima
Oh, Kate. How well I know the pain you are dealing with. We, too, dealt with infertility (that by itself is a huge painful topic), with closed doors during the adoption process (not as drastic as changing countries but traumatic nevertheless), with that horrible sense of justice (why are things easy for them and not for me?) "Why, God?" I would sometimes cry out. I still don't know the answers. But, He cares. I know that because of those sparrows that He keeps track of in Matthew 10:29. And, because of Prov 30:15-16 - "There are 3 things that will not be satisfied, four that will not say 'enough'... the barren womb.... "
ReplyDeleteYou are not alone,
Karen
Dear Kate,
ReplyDeleteFor the sorrow: Although I do not understand the deep pain associated with infertility, I do understand the mourning of unfulfilled dreams. The letting go seems an injustice. Not wanting to forget the part of our selves that suffered, it is in our nature to nurture, we revisit the pain. The mourning comes in waves, we nurture the grieving woman within, receive God's comfort, and in time healing and transformation occur.
For the joy: A mother's heart is a true thing no matter how a child comes into a family. I want to remind you of the poem my friend framed for her adopted son. I know I shared this with you...
Not flesh of my flesh
Nor bone of my bone
but still,miraculously, my very own
Never forget for a single minute
You didn't grow under my heart but in it
It's so obvious how passionately you love your children. They have the gift of knowing how hard you have worked to call them yours. You are a beautiful mother.
Much Love,
Sus