Hard Times

I want to catch you up with a little more of our recent story.  In November when our adoption timeline was looking very uncertain and two of my dearest friends announced their pregnancies, we decided to pursue pregnancy again.   November through May was emotionally exhausting as we were desperately longing for a pregnancy and for our Rwandan baby.  Gratefully on Mother’s Day we discovered we were pregnant.  It was an amazingly joyful week but, devastatingly, we lost our baby a few days later.  Just when we thought life couldn't get worse, three weeks later we discovered our adoption is likely to fall through because of the new 6 month expiration on our approval. 

It’s been really tough season (duh, right?).  We’re grieving the miscarriage…grieving the adoption (but also holding onto some hope)… and grieving our dreams to have kids with majority of our friends.  We’ve been going through a range of emotions: denial, pain, anger, bargaining, depression, loneliness, and sometimes a little bit of acceptance. 

One of the hardest things right now is that there are no signs that tell us how many miles we have to go.  We only have our faith in God to direct us.  We often feel like everyone is on a parallel road in life and we want to be on that same road they’re traveling.  But instead we’re traveling behind watching others with the hope that we will join them as they move forward with their lives.  It’s just a sad thing to accept. 

But despite these valleys, we’re learning some valuable life lessons:

*My children are not mine- they are God’s.  This goes for our past and future biological and adopted children.

*I only have today, so I must take life one day at a time.   Everything outside of today is out of my control.  (Matt. 6:34)  

*Acceptance of my reality does not mean I have to like it.  When reality confronts our notion of what should be, reality always wins.  And if I don’t fully accept my situation I will never know if the situation should be changed.

Yesterday we marked the loss of our baby with a small ceremony.  We first prayed and read Psalms 121.  Then, we wrote notes to our baby on 5 yellow balloons and released them as a symbol of physically releasing this to the Lord.   Each balloon stood for the 5 days we celebrated our baby’s life.  Lastly, we planted a tree in memory of our baby.   This was such a sweet time between Isaac, I and the Lord- we’ll never forget it. 

Psalms 121

I lift up my eyes to the mountains— 
   where does my help come from? 
My help comes from the LORD, 
   the Maker of heaven and earth.

He will not let your foot slip— 
   he who watches over you will not slumber; 
indeed, he who watches over Israel 
   will neither slumber nor sleep.

The LORD watches over you— 
   the LORD is your shade at your right hand; 
the sun will not harm you by day, 
   nor the moon by night.

The LORD will keep you from all harm— 
   he will watch over your life; 
the LORD will watch over your coming and going 
   both now and forevermore.