Returning to the Journey

This time last year Andrew and I were spending several hours each day looking at a photo of ten beautiful children and dreaming about our future.

Though we knew in our heads that our dream was not a guaranteed outcome, in our hearts it felt guaranteed.

"Our kids" were two words that came so quickly into our daily conversations.

In our hearts, they were ours.

And they always will be.

Though it doesn't occur as often, I still occasionally notice Andrew or myself saying "our kids" when we talk about the eight children we were blessed with for such a short time.

Our adoption was disrupted - that's the system's way of saying it didn't work out.

It didn't feel like a disruption.

The word disruption, at least to me, indicates a small bump in the road.

A short break.

A TV commercial is a disruption.

An adoption not working out?

It is so much more than a disruption.

In the moment it feels life shattering; you don't know how you will get through your next breath.

It hurts.

It hurt more than anything I have ever experienced in my life.

It's been almost five months since the kids left our home.

And for the most part life is back to normal, back to the way it was before the children.

I still have moments where I cannot control the grief.

Moments where I cannot control the guilt.

There are a million emotions that come with a failed adoption and unless you have experienced it, there is no way you can really understand.

We have received phone calls from three different adoption specialists about three different sibling groups in the past five months.

We've said no to two of those adoption specialists for different reasons.

It's hard saying no.

I want to want to say yes, but I simply couldn't.

I was not ready.

I had no desire to walk down the road of adoption again.

I was finished.

The third adoption specialist, the one we haven't said no to, called for the first time in early December.  There wasn't a lot of information at the time, just the number of children in this sibling group, their genders, and their ages.

She did say something that was a pretty big turn off to Andrew and me.

And then we didn't hear from her again so we figured we were not an approved match.

Last week God began to change my heart.

Through social media I watched a friend and her family finalize the adoption of four beautiful girls.  

I began to feel ready to step out there and try again.

I begin to feel ready to actively start working toward finding the children God has for our family.

On Thursday we heard back from the third adoption specialist.

We have been approved as a match for this sibling group.

The thing that was a big turn off to us....she explained it a little more and it is something that is not  a deal breaker for us.

She invited us to an adoption even next Saturday to meet the children in anticipation of a doing a full disclosure meeting.

All of a sudden we are back on this path to adoption.

It's exciting yet so very scary.

It feels different this time.

We are meeting the children in a week and they are not "our kids" yet.

Our hearts aren't as quick to jump into feeling guaranteed yet.

We are hesitantly tip-toeing down the path this time.  

Our dream is coming back slowly.

The Best is Yet to Come

Normally as a year comes to an end I like to go back through blog post and reminisce on the year and all the memories it brought.

This year is different.

Here it is the last day of 2015 and I simply do not have the emotional energy to journey back through the year.

It was such a wild year.

Training and tons of paper work as we worked to become an open home.

Meeting our eight children and bringing them home.

Letting them go and figuring out how to move forward.

We experienced the highest of highs and the lowest of lows in 2015.

As I look forward to a new year and a new start, I don't really have any expectations for the year.  It is difficult for me to believe that this will be the year we become parents.  I've been believing that for so many years.  I'm not sure I can do it again this year.

I received a planner in my January faithbox.  

The cover said "The Best is Yet to Come"

As soon as I opened my box and saw those words the tears began to flow.

Tears of thanksgiving and praise.

The best is yet to come.

Infertility is a fine line of believing God for your miracle baby while not wanting to get your hopes up because it hurts so bad when another month goes by and there isn't a positive pregnancy test.

Adoption after a failed adoption is a fine line of trusting God will walk you through it while being terrified of a repeat outcome.

I know in my head that God's timing is perfect.  The best really is yet to come.

In 2016 I want to know that in my heart.

I want to trust God's plan no matter what it is.

I want to believe the best is yet to come.

The Pressure is Off

From the very moment Andrew and I said "I do" and promised our lives to one another people began to ask the question,

"When are you planning to have kids?".

It wasn't everyone asking, but there were times when it sure felt like everyone.

I wanted kids pretty much immediately.

In my mind that was the order of things.

You got married and you had kids.

Thankfully I married someone wiser than me who knew we needed those first years to get to know one another and to strengthen our marriage.

Then the day came when we were both ready to add to our family.

I just knew it would happen that first month.

And then it didn't.

Here we are almost twelve years into this journey called marriage and it is still just the two of us.

And you know what?

For the first time in almost twelve years of marriage I am completely okay with that.

After the adoption didn't work out Andrew and I were in two very different places with what we wanted.  It felt like we would never want the same thing at the same time again.

That was extremely difficult.

In some ways it was harder than the actual loss of the children.

My husband is my best friend and to feel like we were headed in two different directions was almost more than I could handle.

I prayed that God would work in our hearts and bring us back to the same page.

I asked friends to pray the same for us.

God is faithful.

He did just that.

He brought us back to the same page.

And the moment that happened a peace covered me.

For the first time in a very long time I feel no pressure about if, when, or how we are going to have children.

I'm happy.

Truly happy.

For the first time in a long time I'm looking forward to Christmas.  I'm excited to just enjoy the holiday without any of the ugly feelings that I have felt the past several years as I have longed to have children.

The pressure is off and it feels good.

I'm enjoying every moment I get to spend with my best friend, my love.  I'm not wishing away the here and now for the someday maybes.

A Lonely Place

Yesterday one of the kids contacted me on social media.  I asked how she was doing only to be told to leave her alone.  

This morning we saw one of them at church.  He called out, "Elaina" and waved as if I had never been mom.

Two small moments caused my heart to break all over again.  Andrew and I wanted so badly for this story to have a happy ending.  We never wanted or believed our story would be described as a failed adoption.  

A failed adoption is a lonely place to be.

I find myself terrified of trying again, of having children.  And yet at the same time I find myself terrified of never having children, of never having the family I've always dreamed of.

It's hard to know where to go from here.  

Actually it seems impossible to know where to go from here.  Andrew and I are all over the place in what we think we want and  we never seem to be in the same place at the same time.

That's hard.

A failed adoption is a lonely place to be.

Do we want to try adopting again?  Do we pursue different children or try to bring back one or two of the eight?  Do we try infertility treatments?  Do we not have kids?

We don't know.

Most of the time I feel okay.  I feel as if I have healed.  And then in a moment I realize how raw the emotion and the hurt still is.  I realize how deep the scars go.

Infertility brought moments of loneliness,, but I never really felt alone.  I had family members who had struggled with infertility.  I immediately found blog friends who were struggling.  I always felt a part of this infertility community, a community none of  us wanted to belong to.

With a failed adoption, I haven't found that community.  I haven't found that group of people who have walked through this fire and found themselves on the other side, in the happily ever after.

A failed adoption is a lonely place to be.

I have been struggling with sharing about our failed adoption.  It's very personal and it's hard to put into words all the different emotions that come with it.

I want to explain what happened so people might understand and hold back their judgement.  I want to keep the mistakes and issues to myself because honestly it's no one's business.  

But if there is anyone out there walking through this same storm then I want them to know they are not alone.  I want them to know that there is someone else who has been through this storm.  God will carry us through.  

I want a failed adoption to be less of a lonely place.  

Tuesday Tunes

I miss the loud chaos of having eight kids.

The peace and quiet is my favorite.

I want to jump in the car and go get all eight of them and bring them back home.

Let's get rid of the 12 passenger van because we are never having kids.

Just the two of us - it's perfect.

I want kids.

Let's try adoption again.

I'm never adopting again.

Let's just have a baby the old fashion way.

Oh wait.  We tried that.  It didn't work.

These are just a few of the ever changing thoughts than run through my head lately.  If you ask how I'm doing I'll give you the standard "I'm good" or "I'm okay".  That's simply easier than trying to explain that my feelings changed in the amount of time it took you to ask me how I was doing.

I have moments where I'm perfectly fine and life feels normal.

And in the same breath I can have a moment that causes me to break down in a full on ugly cry.

Lately the ugly cry comes from not knowing God's plan.

Bringing our eight children into our home and loving them was what God called us to do.  Andrew and I still believe that.  Yet it didn't work out the way we thought it would.

My low moments come from not understanding why having children has to be so hard for us.  They come from not understanding how God is working in all of this, but knowing that He is working.

This morning I heard a song on the radio as I drove to work.  It's a song that I've heard a hundred times, but this morning it spoke to me in a new way.

I may not be skilled to understand God's plan, but He lives.  He always has and always will.

He is always there for me.

I am not skilled to understand
What God has willed what God has planned
I only know at his right hand
Stands one who is my Savior

I take him at his word and deed
Christ died to save me this I read
And in my heart I find the need
Of him to be my Savior

That he would leave his place on high
And come for sinful man to die
You called it strange so once did I
Before I knew my Savior

My Savior loves
My Savior lives
My Savior's always there for me
My God he was
My God he is
My God he's always gonna be

Yes living, dying let me bring
My strength my Solace from the Spring
That he who lives to be my king
Once died to be my Savior

That he would leave his place on high
And come for sinful man to die
You called it strange, so once did I
Before I knew my Savior

My Savior loves
My Savior lives
My Savior's always there for me
My God he was
My God he is
My God he's always gonna be

Missing the Chaos

Our Precious Eight,
    For twenty nine days God allowed us to be a big loud family of ten.  In some ways those were the longest twenty nine days of my life, but at the same time those twenty nine days weren't nearly long enough.
    I'm sitting here wishing things could have been different.  This big house is all to quiet today.  I miss the crazy chaos.  I miss those moments all piled up in bed, watching dad have tickle fights with you.  I miss football games in the yard - the weather is perfect for a game today.  I miss cooking meals for you and sitting around the dinner table listening to your favorite moments from the day.
   I wonder if those twenty-nine days were enough.  Were they enough for you to know how much I love you?  Were they enough for Dad and I show to you how much Jesus loves you?  Were they enough to let you know you are valued, each and every one of you?
   It breaks my heart to know that I may never see you or hear your voices again.  It's not how I wanted the story to end.  I believe with everything that Dad and I did exactly what God wanted us to do with each step.  I trust in the truth that is Jeremiah 29:11 - God has a plan for each of us and it's for good, not to harm us.
   H, A, N, S, M, K, A, and S, I love each and every one of you more than you will ever know.  I wanted more than anything to be your mom, to have you has my beautiful sons and daughters - all of you.  No matter what the future holds for each of you and for Dad and I, know we love you.  We want the best for you.