“Knowing there is another view just around the bend makes it all so weird.”
I read this, written by another mother ( thanks @adoptalovestory) who is waiting to be chosen by an expectant mother and it struck a deep chord.
As we enter month 6 of waiting the adoption process feels very far away. Life is being lived. We’re preparing to send R to a new school next year, planning for weekend trips to the beach, planning what our next move may look like….Plans I’m leaning into and excited to be making. Excited to be moving our lives forward.
I’m thrilled that my life is full of blessings and equally terrified that somehow that means that in the adoption rule book I’ll have to wait longer because I don’t “need” my baby; If I don’t think about waiting everyday, then I’m not ready to be a mother again; If I allow myself to live happily and presently that means I’m not worthy of adoption. If I’m perfectly content with my one child, it means I don’t deserve my second child.
Oy. The mind and heart are funny tricky things, aren’t they?
When we first completed the paperwork we were on cloud 9. It was a tangible giant leap forward. We celebrated finishing each form, our homestudy Visit. We dwelled in the possibility- making no plans, and content to have it that way. And then the days turned into weeks, then months. We’ve already had 3 profile opportunities. Each “no” leading us to the “yes” that will be our child. With each opportunity, the pain and disappointment of it not working out is raw and painful. However, I’m far better at trusting the no’s than I was the first time around. Trusting the pain. My labor pains spread out over months and months. Trusting the waiting. Trust and faith. This timeline constantly compared to the timeline with Rory. Which of course, makes no sense, but gives us a sense of control.
We’ve settled into our normal. Life is tumbling by and I’m proud of how my little family is choosing to live it.
But it’s there.
The waiting is there- this undercurrent that at any moment it could all change.
Knowing that while we work painfully hard to stay present and in the here and now, part of our hearts have already left for the future when we’re a family of four.