Grief and Promise

This past week I have grieved for you.

You are a son I have not met. A boy I have not held. Now you can walk. You are getting teeth. You are eating solid food and learning how to say prayers.

Your smile makes my day so bright. But I have only seen it in pictures.

Your mother asked for me to raise you. in that moment I knew it would happen. I couldn’t see how, I didn’t know the way, but I knew if it was her hearts desire it was mine.

We are waiting. So many approvals, so many steps. A year ago we started. I know the wait, I walked it with your sister.

This is so hard, and my head knows better than to get trapped in these emotions. But I understand there is a new delay, one I didn’t count on and now all I feel is loss. My heart is heavy.

I am missing out. We wait once again for things we have no control over, no timeline. How do I not see time with you slipping through my fingers, like every other adoptive parent?

I skipped Christmas. And New Years. And all the days in-between, I have spent the last 3 days in bed, I have no words for people right now. I was even afraid to tell your Dad how hurt I was because it would make it real.

Know this: You are worth every tear I have shed. Every missed meal. Every prayer. Every anxiety. Every moment of cocooning myself away. Every minute.

You are worth it and so much more. My son.

This morning I saw this on my computer: ‘Watch closely: I am preparing something new; it’s happening now, even as I speak, and you’re about to see it. I am preparing a way through the desert; Waters will flow where there had been none.’ Isaiah 43:19 Be encouraged!

I will hold onto these promises, and carry them as closely to my heart as I carry you Jadyn.

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The Lean

I knew about you before you were born. I prayed for you, cried for you and you were in every waking moment of my day.

The email came saying “it’s a boy”. You were my son and I knew it in my heart. I named you, and continued to pray for you. I begged for God to open the doors and show me the path to bring you home.

It’s been over a year and now I am in the lean months, my work is done and I must wait. The papers are making their way through the many required steps. Your sister waits for you and smiles when she sees your pictures, she has many plans for you.  Your dad worries about the finances needed and how we will do it. His eyes sparkle when we get new photos.

It’s quiet. No emails come telling us where we are at and what we need to do.

I’m trying to push forward, not focus on the wait.

I remember this now from when we adopted your sister. Wavering between feeling good and having faith about the quiet. Then struggling for a couple of days with all the unanswered questions, wondering, missing out on your days.

I feel the distance.

From you. From reality outside of my bubble of adoption. From God. He isn’t quiet, but on these days I don’t hear Him. I am in the stage of ‘doing’ and praying. Not meditating, not learning, not reading about His plans for us. I’m selfish and focused only on what is next for us.

I need to lean into this journey and look The One who has brought you to me. Even if some days I can only successfully do it one minute at a time.

In the meantime, know how much you are loved.