Msy 9th, 2016
Today marks one year since the day we were finally able to
share with you a picture of our little boy. I think if you were to talk to each
of us, you would hear that it has been the hardest year in the life of our
little Wood family. Each of us has experienced this adoption through a different
lens. Each of us in this puzzle… no less important to the final outcome but
each fitting into our roles differently. Last night I spent almost 2 hours on the phone
with birth momma. We laughed together, we cried together, and we had some very
raw conversation about the reality of this last year.
I remember sitting in that family room in our agency in New
Jersey. The case worker sitting down, looking us in the eye, and saying, “They
finished their paperwork.” Just like that and it was done…after months of
conversations, debates, and acceptance, birth parents had signed their rights
away to Adi. I looked over at Brian and a sense of complete brokenness
overwhelmed me. Conflicted is the only word I can think to describe my emotions
that day. I struggled to find happiness in those moments. What I was taking
part in, was the destruction of one family unit and the building of
another. It was not my choice to
dismantle a family but I felt the weight of it. I felt the responsibility of
it. I felt the burden of those choices. We both knew, that no matter how much
we thought we were prepared for this moment…it would not be enough…we were not
enough…but we had JESUS to fill the gaps.
The first 6 months…you guys, I don’t even know how to
explain the pain of it..the joy if it…the exhaustion of it. To this day, I
cannot tell you how we walked through it. I carried the grief of birth momma on
my shoulders. I heard it in phone calls, texts, and emails. I carried the grief
of Adi as he isolated himself, became consumed with the rage of grief, he wept
in my arms and then drew my blood with his fingers. There was no manual for
this. This adoption is everything we never wanted but it is exactly what God
called us to do. There were no pretty pictures of a happy baby and birth parent
visits. This adoption was raw and my heart has been ravaged because of it. My
sweet girl was not left untouched. She longed for this dear boy…she had prayed
for exactly this and yet she wept over the loss of our unit of three. She
grieved the brother she had expected and was faced daily with a brother that
was enraged when he laid eyes on her. Brian was the only one that Adi felt
completely safe with and he carried the weight of caring for him, protecting us
from Adi’s anger, and loving that little traumatized heart with the intensity of a
warrior. If you could have spent one week in those first 6 months with us, you
would be stunned realizing where we are today. Those first 6 months carried more tears than
smiles. We celebrated Adi’s choice to not strike in anger more than we celebrated laughter. We walked the balancing act of protecting birth parents from
the truth of Adi’s grief and their anger at us for not complying with their
expectations. The only choice we had was to love with abandon and persistently chase
Adi’s little heart.
A year later I still weep when I think of those daily moments
of holding my new son, while he raged, and softly whispering to him…”You are
safe, I will not leave you, you are home.” The pain of that time is still fresh
and yet the intensity of love for him cannot be explained. He is so incredibly
tough and yet deeply sensitive. He loves to pull pranks and gets hurt when he
hears people talking about him or feels as though he is being laughed at. I cannot share our story without tears
appearing. It is not because of how hard it was…it is because those moments God
has redeemed. My little boy squeals with delight when I pick him up from
school. He will climb in my arms and wrap his arms around me, saying, “I love
you mommy.” He will run through the house to look for his sister because he
missed her. Brian and I are finding time for us again…for months we would nod
our heads at each other from across the room, in solidarity. As if to say, “I
see you…I love you…I am praying for you and when the time comes, I will be
here.” That fog of grief is lifting. Birth parents are moving forward slowly and
celebrating the victories we share with them. We are able to find peaceful ground
and share little bits of Jesus with them.
My family is solidifying as a unit and becoming established
in our new roles/titles. There are more peaceful days than unrest. I can see my
children physically relaxing and feeling safe. I see us smiling, laughing and
delighting in each other. I cannot tell you how many times my heart was
shattered and my Savior restored me. Those burdens are starting to fall off my
shoulders and I am learning how to not live in survival mode anymore.
Our family is goal oriented people. I jokingly said recently
to friends that a trip to Walmart requires a white board to write out lists and
a plan of action. All four of us live our life by lists so that we can keep
order and feel safe. We often measure our accomplishments by these lists. When
I stand before God someday, I kind of expect my legacy to be in a list format
but in reality this is not what I want. I want my legacy to be that I chose
faith…trust…redemption…forgiveness…and that I lived out love and grace. I don’t
want anyone to look at me and say, she survived cancer well…she worked hard…she
adopted. I want them to say, she loved well…she extended grace…she showed
mercy…she intimately knew Jesus. I don’t want to walk away from this past year
with my family feeling like they survived a hard transition. I want them to
walk away knowing that God was present, He carried us, we trusted Him, He
redeemed us, we were witness to His power.
I stand in amazement as I spent a year of witnessing God’s
restoring power. He generously bestowed His covering over us as we went into
battle over hearts. We are weary and still recovering BUT I would choose this
again. Knowing what I know now…I would still choose it. I cannot imagine our
family without having walked this adoption story. We will have years ahead to continue
the healing process. We will face questions of rejection, grief of brokenness,
and at some point…it is our hope that some restoration of a relationship with
Adi and his birth parents will happen. We are praying that God will reveal
himself as very real and true to our little boy someday. We have hope that he
will be able to one day see his birth parents again and understand their
choices. That he will be able to extend grace when they need it. That God will
one day capture their hearts as well. This began with a stirring in our hearts
almost 5 years ago and today we celebrate that with a quiet joy while also
acknowledging the brokenness that brought us together. . #Woodfam4
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