Fail.

These are just a few, among many of the definitions of the word FAIL that I found online.

FAIL (verb)

1. to fall short of success or achievement in something expected, attempted, desired, or approved
2. to be or become deficient or lacking; be insufficient or absent; fall short
3. to lose strength or vigor; become weak

Unfortunately that is the most common term used to describe an adoption that has fallen through.  Failed adoption.  Ironically, there was absolutely nothing that I, or my husband, could have done or not done to prevent those series of events from happening.  Until recently there was nothing that could shake my burden of feeling like a failure.

The weeks following the phone call confirming our failed adoption placement were dark.  In the sense that I wanted to be isolated and I needed to mourn.  I have walked along several friends as they have faced the sorrow of miscarriages.  Many times I’ve heard it said that it is an anguish that you can sympathize with, but cannot fully comprehend until you survive your own.  The only thing that I can liken those somber weeks to, is my own miscarriage.

Having known the risks and the possible outcomes, as well as the potential emotions that I might feel, I foolishly assumed that since I was prepared for anything, I could face anything.  What I did not prepare myself for was the grief.  Much like during a pregnancy, we made plans and dreamed of things to come while we waited.

I had to grieve for my husband who wants to be a daddy.
I had to grieve for the empty nursery that I had decorated tirelessly.
The tiny clothes that were washed and hung in the closet.
The diaper bag was packed and waiting by the door.  The car seat buckled in the car.
There were countless subtle reminders that I had to pack up and put away because my grief was too much to bear.
My parents, siblings, and friends, all of whom were anxiously awaiting our tiny addition.
I grieved for them, I grieved for me, and I grieved for the baby.

The glorious bend in this story is that grief is just a step in the healing process.  The beautiful light that broke through my darkness has been God’s unending Grace.  Never once, has He left me alone in my grief.  His mercies have been new every morning, despite my insufficiencies or loss of strength.

Lord knew from the moment that we started our paperwork that we would face hardships and heartaches.  This adoption journey has been the biggest act of faith that we have experienced yet.  However, we have a great God who is working all these things together for GOOD. (Romans 8:28)  And for that reason, we continue on this journey, giving God the Glory!

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A Closed Door.

It is finally over.  Bringing home this baby boy simply wasn’t meant to be.  I am devastated, heart broken, and completely disappointed; however I feel held.  I am comforted by your prayers, my faith, and the Hope that I have in Christ.

There were 17 days between the two phone calls from our case worker.  The first one being the call on November 5th from our case worker preparing us for the possibility that the birth mother that we’d been matched with was having doubts about placing her child for adoption.  We were struck with the reality of our worst fears and consumed by sadness. Those two and a half weeks were the most agonizing wait and test of patience that I have ever faced.

I cried for days.  I cried until I made myself sick.  I lost my voice and was sick to my stomach.  I made a pallet on floor of the nursery and took turns reading my bible, praying and crying myself to sleep.  I couldn’t eat, and I didn’t think I would survive the pain that I thought was going to swallow me whole.

When I got the second phone call, I didn’t crumble like I expected.  I don’t really think I cried, at least not immediately.  With a combination of grace and sympathy in her voice, our case worker told us that the baby had been born.  He was twelve days old and he had been with his mother this entire time.  Even though she’d had him, brought him home from the hospital, and was taking care of him; she was still unsure of her decision.  She had been avoiding contact with the adoption agency and was given a deadline of December 1st to make a commitment.  It wasn’t the outcome that we had hoped and prayed for, but we at least have an answer.

He is hers.

So now, this door is closed.  Literally and Figuratively.  We’ve packed up all things baby and put them in the nursery and closed the door.  It hurts too much to walk by and smell the freshly washed clothes or peek into the waiting crib.  The hallway seems a little more narrow without the open door.  Right now we are just sad and grieving.

I hope to write more in the near future to share my feelings and what our next steps are in this process.  Your prayers are still greatly needed, especially as we walk into this Christmas season.  Thank you for your encouragement and reminders of hope.

 

This isn’t over.

My eyes are just about as heavy as my heart.  It’s been weeks since I’ve had a peaceful night’s sleep; after the sun goes down is when my mind is most prone to wander.   The last  48 hours have been the worst yet.

Honestly, I’m having a difficult time trying to find the words to say and I know its not from the lack of sleep or the haze of confusion that follows it.   A few weeks ago we joyfully shared with the world that we had been chosen by a birth mother and that our long road to  become parents was nearing an end.  We also threw in a tiny disclaimer that even though things could change at a moment’s notice, we were choosing to tell our story in hopes that God gets all the GLORY.  

It appears that our fears are coming true, and that the “changes” we had hoped would not occur are becoming a reality.  We have known from the moment that we were approved by our agency that this scenario is a very likely possibility.  The birth mother is having doubts about her decision to place for adoption and is considering parenting.

I got the phone call from my case worker on Tuesday.  I had spoken to “E”, the birth mother on Monday and we talked about our plans to meet at the hospital on Friday.  Tomorrow, November 8th is her induction date.    We’ve known since last Friday that this child would be making a scheduled appearance.  We’ve been preparing for years to meet him.

Forgive me as I try to choose my following words carefully.  I want to chronicle this journey accurately, yet I want to be as transparent with you as possible.  I am completely heartbroken and terrified.  There is a physical pain in my chest that feels as if it might swallow me whole.

However, this is not over.  Here is what I know to be true:

My God is the same today as He was yesterday, and will be tomorrow.

He will not leave us alone in this very difficult journey.

Tomorrow, a new life will be brought into this world.  It is something that should be celebrated.  

This baby was created in the image of GOD.  I can allow myself to grieve for what may not come to be, but I will still have HOPE.

Like I said before, this is still far from over.  The birth mother can still change her mind again as quickly as she did on Tuesday.  Because she has asked for space, we will not be going to Charlotte to be at the hospital with her like we originally planned.  We will continue to pray for this young mother who has three more daughters at home.  We will pray that if she choses to parent, whatever initially led her to the decision of adoption has been resolved so that she can bring this baby into a loving and stable home.  If not, we pray that she makes a selfless decision for what is best for this child.

It is nearly impossible for me to pray that this woman make a decision that I could not do myself.  I can’t begin to describe the internal conflict I feel as I pray selfishly for the child that I have desired for years.  So I beg for your prayers now.  Pray for strength for everyone involved. Pray for this baby, the innocent party, that is relying on adults to make decisions that are in his best interest.  Pray for the birth mother that she will come to know Christ as her Savior.  Pray that no matter what happens, God is glorified!

I believe in the power of prayer!

“Truly I tell you, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there,’ and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you.”   Matthew 17:20