Sometimes it's while I drive home from work, while other days it's not until I'm making dinner. But at least once a day, when I'm alone, I find myself completely overcome by sadness about the adoption falling apart.
It's a deep, confusing, sorrowful anguish. Yep, it's every bit as dramatic as it sounds. And then, because I need to, I pull myself together.
Generally speaking, I'm doing well. At least 23 hours a day, I'm composed, functioning, and very happy. Compared to what orphans looks forward to in life, my situation isn't that bad. Donald and I aren't the worse off party in all of this. Life continues for us... but for the orphans? Nope. And that's what kills me most. While we are quickly working on Plan B for our family, I am always mindful that these children have no Plan B. What they were dealt in life is what they get. On the surface, this adoption falling through has altered our life very little. Life continues for us. But "normal"? I don't think I'll ever return to my pre-adoption self.
When the life of a child is involved, there is no forgetting.
Even if all three of "our kids" found permanent homes(remember? one did!), there would still be 147 million more faces just like theirs. Lost, alone, and forgotten by everyone but God... and a handful of people around the world, like myself, broken hearted for them.
I'm still trying to figure out how I fit into the adoption world now. Given my current state, I've tried (poorly) to distance myself from it. I will continue to advocate for children needing families. Everyone can play a small role in redeeming these angels, even if it's not as parents. Still, I find myself having to be cautious about how deeply I allow myself to delve into the adoption world, because I'm just not strong enough for it at times. In fact, at the threat from Donald of blocking ReecesRainbow.org on my computer, I've agreed to not browse through the hundreds of sweet faces because we can't bring them home and it rips me apart.
Am I sounding crazy yet? Well, I'm not.
I'm recovering, and holding on to the knowledge that one day, though it may be a few years from now, adoption will be a part of God's plan for our family. Until then, I continue on with my happy little middle-class American life to my very best ability, and enjoy every moment with my husband, friends, and family that my Heavenly Father has blessed me with.
It's a deep, confusing, sorrowful anguish. Yep, it's every bit as dramatic as it sounds. And then, because I need to, I pull myself together.
Generally speaking, I'm doing well. At least 23 hours a day, I'm composed, functioning, and very happy. Compared to what orphans looks forward to in life, my situation isn't that bad. Donald and I aren't the worse off party in all of this. Life continues for us... but for the orphans? Nope. And that's what kills me most. While we are quickly working on Plan B for our family, I am always mindful that these children have no Plan B. What they were dealt in life is what they get. On the surface, this adoption falling through has altered our life very little. Life continues for us. But "normal"? I don't think I'll ever return to my pre-adoption self.
When the life of a child is involved, there is no forgetting.
Even if all three of "our kids" found permanent homes(remember? one did!), there would still be 147 million more faces just like theirs. Lost, alone, and forgotten by everyone but God... and a handful of people around the world, like myself, broken hearted for them.
I'm still trying to figure out how I fit into the adoption world now. Given my current state, I've tried (poorly) to distance myself from it. I will continue to advocate for children needing families. Everyone can play a small role in redeeming these angels, even if it's not as parents. Still, I find myself having to be cautious about how deeply I allow myself to delve into the adoption world, because I'm just not strong enough for it at times. In fact, at the threat from Donald of blocking ReecesRainbow.org on my computer, I've agreed to not browse through the hundreds of sweet faces because we can't bring them home and it rips me apart.
Am I sounding crazy yet? Well, I'm not.
I'm recovering, and holding on to the knowledge that one day, though it may be a few years from now, adoption will be a part of God's plan for our family. Until then, I continue on with my happy little middle-class American life to my very best ability, and enjoy every moment with my husband, friends, and family that my Heavenly Father has blessed me with.
But forget? I never will, and I think that's what God wants from all of us.
Katrina I'm so sorry the adoption didn't work. I know this doesn't compare, but I feel similarly to all the homeless pets out there, with no one to love them or take good care of them. And then, when no one wants them, they have to die. It's so, so sad to me, it makes me cry. I just hope that one day you will be able to be a mother because I know you'll be a great one!
ReplyDeleteAnd I hope that those children will have hope of finding love in their lives too.
Sending prayers of Peace to you!
ReplyDeleteI have been thinking of your family and wondering how you were doing and if there had been any changes. I know exactly what you mean about not being able to forget. And, that *your* family may be able to just go on with life but these poor children cannot! We are struggling too....in trying to make all of it work financially. I have been renewed in my hope and I know that I have just got to see it through. If it ends with us being unsuccessful, at least I will know that I did everything I could. Keep praying and don't lose hope....I'll keep praying for your family and potential children as well.
ReplyDeleteCynthia
http://www.adreamadoption.blogspot.com
I know exactly how you feel. Nobody IRL understands, they say things like "you didn't even meet her". We loved these children, and I really felt (and still feel) like Carmen is meant to be my daughter. It kills me when my children still ask when she is coming home. So anyway, just wanted to tell you that I know how you feel.
ReplyDelete