I want to thank so many of you for the encouraging comments, messages, texts and calls. We are overwhelmed by all of the support we have received. I expected to be sad if we didn't get a baby, but I did not expect to feel like my baby was taken away from me. We are grieving and trying so hard to trust the Lord in all of this, and all of the kind words and affirmations have really helped.
One thing I would like to clear up, though, is that I am not an amazing person. Trust me... there was more than one time over the past week when the pressure got to me and I snapped at the kids, and I even fantasized about dragging one lady out of the hotel lobby by her perfectly highlighted ponytail and throwing her into the Hudson. I don't know if it was something specific that was irritating to her, or if her distaste for me was general, but there was nothing I wanted more than to throw down with that woman in a parking lot. Trust me, I am not amazing. I am capable of a lot of things, but left to my own devices... I will almost always do something stupid or selfish or just the teensiest bit violent.
The truth is that I serve a God that is amazing, and *anything* that I have done that isn't completely heinous and sinful... is only evidence that God loves a lost cause and He is committed to making a redemption story outta my pathetic self.
I know that God is faithful, but I have a long history of believing that when things like this happen it is because He secretly doesn't like me. I am working so hard to uproot that lie... but moments like these are vulnerable times for me to let Satan whisper in me ear, "See. We both knew He didn't care."
I know now that it is a lie, and I know that He is the God that sees, and cares, and holds, and heals. I do not know what is on the other end of this sadness I am feeling now... but I know that I am not the first woman on the planet to grieve the loss of a child, or the idea of a child.
Sadly, for Day 23, I was not able to deliver all the baby items I wanted to bring. I was told that in this particular situation, it would be better for responsibility to be taken independently by the caretakers and my gift may send a mixed message about that. It makes total sense, and I completely trust the social workers' authority and discernment in this situation... but it left me feeling helpless and deflated, as I just wanted this one way to kind of release him. Now, all I picture is this newborn baby riding around without a car seat in the back of some taxi, lying in a stranger's lap.
Although my plan fell through, another opportunity presented itself when a sweet, beautiful, brilliant friend asked if she could share some of our adoption story with her own family who suffered through the years when adoption was something, not to be celebrated, but hidden away like an untouchable family secret. These old mindsets left so many victims in their wake, and this woman asked for Day 23 that I would give permission to print and share some of our story with her hurting family members. This was my pleasure to agree to, even though she totally could have printed it without my knowledge or consent! :)
Apart from our own feelings about this failed attempt to complete our forever family, we are very concerned about the kids... but mostly Harper. How does our adopted, five year old son process this new awareness that sometimes birthmothers do change their minds? Will it hurt him more to realize that his didn't, or that she might try to get him back down the road? I knew these realizations and fears and hurts would surface eventually... but, I was unprepared for it to happen this way, and now.
I don't know what to do about any of it, but... as we already covered, if it were up to me to make it all okay, I would just blow it anyways. So, I am going to work very hard to lie back in my Father's lap, knowing that whatever crazy journey He takes us on next, I might not be safe from pain, or danger, or heartache.. but I wouldn't want to be anywhere else.
One thing I would like to clear up, though, is that I am not an amazing person. Trust me... there was more than one time over the past week when the pressure got to me and I snapped at the kids, and I even fantasized about dragging one lady out of the hotel lobby by her perfectly highlighted ponytail and throwing her into the Hudson. I don't know if it was something specific that was irritating to her, or if her distaste for me was general, but there was nothing I wanted more than to throw down with that woman in a parking lot. Trust me, I am not amazing. I am capable of a lot of things, but left to my own devices... I will almost always do something stupid or selfish or just the teensiest bit violent.
The truth is that I serve a God that is amazing, and *anything* that I have done that isn't completely heinous and sinful... is only evidence that God loves a lost cause and He is committed to making a redemption story outta my pathetic self.
I know that God is faithful, but I have a long history of believing that when things like this happen it is because He secretly doesn't like me. I am working so hard to uproot that lie... but moments like these are vulnerable times for me to let Satan whisper in me ear, "See. We both knew He didn't care."
I know now that it is a lie, and I know that He is the God that sees, and cares, and holds, and heals. I do not know what is on the other end of this sadness I am feeling now... but I know that I am not the first woman on the planet to grieve the loss of a child, or the idea of a child.
Sadly, for Day 23, I was not able to deliver all the baby items I wanted to bring. I was told that in this particular situation, it would be better for responsibility to be taken independently by the caretakers and my gift may send a mixed message about that. It makes total sense, and I completely trust the social workers' authority and discernment in this situation... but it left me feeling helpless and deflated, as I just wanted this one way to kind of release him. Now, all I picture is this newborn baby riding around without a car seat in the back of some taxi, lying in a stranger's lap.
Although my plan fell through, another opportunity presented itself when a sweet, beautiful, brilliant friend asked if she could share some of our adoption story with her own family who suffered through the years when adoption was something, not to be celebrated, but hidden away like an untouchable family secret. These old mindsets left so many victims in their wake, and this woman asked for Day 23 that I would give permission to print and share some of our story with her hurting family members. This was my pleasure to agree to, even though she totally could have printed it without my knowledge or consent! :)
Apart from our own feelings about this failed attempt to complete our forever family, we are very concerned about the kids... but mostly Harper. How does our adopted, five year old son process this new awareness that sometimes birthmothers do change their minds? Will it hurt him more to realize that his didn't, or that she might try to get him back down the road? I knew these realizations and fears and hurts would surface eventually... but, I was unprepared for it to happen this way, and now.
I don't know what to do about any of it, but... as we already covered, if it were up to me to make it all okay, I would just blow it anyways. So, I am going to work very hard to lie back in my Father's lap, knowing that whatever crazy journey He takes us on next, I might not be safe from pain, or danger, or heartache.. but I wouldn't want to be anywhere else.