Moving Forward

I really wanted to write a post about how to grieve and move forward after a failed match. It’s hard to do so because I really am still hurting. Honestly though, sometimes it’s hard to tell why I’m still hurting. Do I mourn the loss of the baby girl I thought was going to be ours? Do I mourn the fact that we are a waiting family again? Am I frustrated that we have to go back into the pool of hopeful adoptive parents and yet again wait for that call? Am I hurting because we’re fast approaching the one year point in our wait and there is a part of me that’s scared that we might never be matched? Perhaps it’s all of the above. It kind of varies from moment to moment to be honest with you.

I think my pain and loss is very different from a typical failed match. Most failed matches happen at birth. Mom has baby, mom changes her mind about placing baby. Match failed. But ours didn’t get to the birth. In a lot of ways, that is a huge blessing. In other ways, it hurts just as much. But I do think it gives me the unique ability to talk about our failed match in ways that are probably far too raw and painful for the families who experience the failure at birth.

Anytime a mother dreams that she’s going to have another baby and then that baby doesn’t come, it’s heartbreaking. So what do you do? For Travis, he’s really thrown himself into projects around the house. He’s re-tiling our bathroom floor. He’s pulling weeds out back. He’s repairing the mower {again}. He’s finding project after project and throwing himself into those as much as he can. Honestly on my end of things, I don’t know what to do yet.

The only thing for me that feels productive and makes me feel like I’m moving on is to dive back into the adoption process. I was speaking with a friend and fellow adoptive parent last night and she phrased it perfectly when she said, “You want back on the adoption roller coaster as fast as possible after a failed match, but you also want off that roller coaster as soon as possible.” That is absolutely true. For Travis, he didn’t want to talk about adoption or babies at all. For me, I had to. I had to know that there was hope, that there were women coming in to our agency. I wanted our profile to be shown again as soon as possible. I have to fight the urge to not text our adoption coordinator every hour on the hour to see if any new developments have come up.

But with that sense of urgency and determination to get back in the fray of things comes a deep, anxious desire to be out of this wait. I want this wait to be over and for our baby to be home more than anything in the world. Before our failed match, I thought I was anxious to be matched and no longer a waiting family, but those feelings don’t even compare to the urgency I feel now. I’m so scared that it will never happen, but at the same time I am trying hard to remain faithful that it will. I’m constantly at war with my own feelings. One moment I feel complete peace that the Lord is watching over us in this adoption process, and I believe fully that he is going to do something amazing in us, through us, and for us and we will rejoice in ways we never thought possible… But then the next moment I’m in despair, terrified that we will never find our baby, frozen by the fear that we will be at this same place of desperateness next summer.

That brings me to my next thought. In adoption, you’ll find yourself saying over and over again, “If we have a baby by then…” in conversation with family and friends. You look to plan your summer vacation with your family, but inside you’re only half committed because “what if we have a newborn by then?” You think to the community costume party in October and then a tiny part of you gets excited over the idea of having a baby to show off in a precious pumpkin costume. You picture Christmas and there’s a baby in red and green pajamas crawling around the tree. Every holiday, vacation, celebration, and event you speak of is punctuated with the phrase, “if we have a baby by then.”

Well, for me, the excitement that those thoughts bring has turned to near panic. My sentences have turned into hidden pleading prayers, “Surely we will have a baby by then…” or “I really hope we’ll have a baby by then…” or even, “I can’t imagine us not having a baby by then.” There’s pain hidden in those words, and as I speak them in regards to Spring trips, Christmas plans, family vacations, and church events, my heart is crying out begging God to let there be a baby in our home by then. I know the pain and desperateness that I feel now, and I can’t even bring myself to imagine how it will feel if we still don’t have a baby by Christmas. I try so hard not to put a time frame around our adoption, but how can you not?

We are moving forward, and will be showing our profile again soon to an expectant mom. No telling exactly what will happen, but we are hopeful and feeling positive about the situation. At the very least, it feels good to be shown again and get back into the swing of things. I just have to believe it will happen. God has called us to adopt, he led us to our agency, and I just have to have faith that it will all work out in the end. We will have a baby. And while I have no idea when it will happen, I just have to believe it will happen soon… Otherwise I’ll drive myself crazy.

Blessings,

Kat