After the call, I didn’t really know what to do with myself. I was at work, but I couldn’t focus on work. I didn’t want people to hear me crying. I tried to hold it in and distract my mind.
Logistical things started filling my mind.
- I guess we can take the house off the market.
- What are we going to do with the bunk beds?
- Our friends have been so generous, what should we do with all the things we’ve been given?
- Financially, this won’t suck.
- Life’s going to be pretty boring with just one baby.
I called our local social worker, who has become a source of comfort and advice. She told me two things that I took to heart.
- The agency had a meeting about our situation last Friday. She called into that meeting and advocated for us. Although we did not get the outcome we had hoped for, she did feel that they took ample time to review our case and talk about all possibilities. Afterwards, she asked if they were going to call us that day. The program director said she wanted to take several days to think about it, pray about it, and just get to the point where she felt confident that it was the right decision. This news helped me realize that they did not take the decision lightly. I know this is their least favorite part of their job.
- Our social worker shared that since she found out we were pregnant, she has been praying for us like she’s never prayed for a client before. She said she’s not one that hears the Lord speak to her, but that she has had an overwhelming feeling of “maybe this is to protect them.” Meaning that if our adoption of the girl did not end up working out, we would have to make the decision whether or not to adopt the boy. How does one make that decision? Of course we want him. But is it in his best interest to separate him from the one person he’s been with his whole life? How would that make him feel? If we didn’t adopt him so he could stay with his sister, would we feel like we’re abandoning both of them? These are not questions I want to have to answer.
The second point especially gave me some pause and took away some of my anger. I don’t know why things happen. I don’t know why we were drawn to these kids in the first place if it’s going to end like this. I don’t know why we got pregnant when we did and not a year earlier or a year later. I don’t know why we find out her father is alive two years after she’s been in the orphanage. Sometimes I drive myself crazy wondering about the answers to these things I’ll never know about. But I have to believe that there IS some sense to it all, even if I don’t see it. Maybe this hard news IS to protect us.
I left work a little early that day. Shortly after I got home, three school-aged girls rang the doorbell. I thought they were going to be doing some sort of fundraiser, but when we answered they all said “Happy Autumn!” and presented us with a pumpkin cupcake. This was such a random, simple gesture, but I was moved to tears. I felt like it was a sign that things were going to be okay.
I reacted to the news with anger. I was mad that they were telling us what we were able-or not able- to handle. I was frustrated with this whole process taking so long. I’m still a bit angry. We’re going to talk to them again when things have settled down and I’m going to see if there’s anything we can do to make them reconsider.
But now I am mostly sad. Really sad. It feels like I lost my children. No, I didn’t see them growing in my belly or know exactly when I would get to hold them. But I loved them. I had dreams for them. I had made plans for them. I had prayed for them for years, prayed for them by name for five months. I didn’t realize quite how attached I was until today. Some people have said “well you can adopt again.” I don’t want to adopt again. I don’t want to adopt other kids. I want THESE kids. And I want them now.
Check out the next post for how this makes me feel about the pregnancy.