Today is a sad day for me, but oh so joyous for Baby Girl "I". That's all we knew of her. We knew her first initial and a little about her birth family. We knew when she was born, and that she was waiting, just like us, for her forever family.
It feels like we've lost someone, a loved one. Only it cuts deeper. Adam and I have lost our share of loved ones and it was always sad. We've cried over sweet memories and the loss of sharing or creating new memories. But, in the end, there was always peace. Mostly, we've lost grandparents. And the ending of the mourning comes when we accept that we will all pass away, and passing away at an old age is a blessing. It's part of life, and it's natural, and we can find peace in knowing our loved ones lived happy, full lives.
But no one has passed away. A flame of hope has been scorched. We knew from the very beginning, that this little girl was created, with her own miraculous story, for someone- someone God ordained as her mommy and daddy before they were even created in their own mother's womb. We knew she could have very well been created for someone else. But we also knew she could have been created for us.
I swayed, carefully, back and forth between the possibilities involving this sweet baby girl. I imagined dedicating her to God- committing to God that we would teach her His ways, that we would treasure her every day of our lives, and that we would submit our every moment as parents-to Him. Seeing a little, smiling baby in my living room floor while I massaged her feet and smiled back at her precious face was beyond easy to imagine. I could feel her smooth baby skin and see chubby little baby legs hanging out of a Maya wrap while we snuggled and I attached myself to her with all that I am-physically, emotionally, and spiritually. In the midst of those heavenly, joyous wishes...were preparation thoughts of a more harsh reality. Images of crying in my husband's arms because she wasn't ours...images of falling on the running tack of life, with scraped knees and elbows, willing myself to get up and keep going. I saw myself falling apart...and getting back up. I hoped beyond hope that I wouldn't have to do that part. I hoped that I could trust God and maybe, just maybe, the road that lead us this far, would save us from such pain and despair that only other adoptive parents truly understand.
I still trust God. He is the only reason I can travel this journey with full confidence that my baby, the baby He designed just for me before I was ever created in my own mother's womb, is coming. My baby will be here soon! I have no idea when. I have no idea how many times I will have to pick myself up and keep going. I don't know how many potential sweet newborns I will have to say "goodbye" to. But I know that I won't stop going. And I won't stop getting excited. I won't stop attaching myself to the idea of "this" baby each time we are presented with a possibility. Because the day will come when "this" baby, is my baby! And I want to live and breathe and feel every. single. second of our journey to each other.
In the meantime, I will say goodbye to each possibility as it passes. Our first was a surprise birth. A baby girl born March 15, 2013.
She wasn't mine. That's what hurts the most right now. I wanted it to be her so badly. I was careful to ask God for His will, not for her to come home with us, because I know He has a plan. But even when we know God has a plan, the journey to his grand reveal can be painful. It can hurt-to the core of who we are-but God is good. He hasn't failed me yet.
So I press on.
not saying that I have this all together, that I have it made. But I am
well on my way, reaching out for Christ, who has so wondrously reached
out for me. Friends, don’t get me wrong: By no means do I count myself
an expert in all of this, but I’ve got my eye on the goal, where God is
beckoning us onward—to Jesus. I’m off and running, and I’m not turning
back." Philippians 3:12-14