Christmas Expectations...

I am not sure what I had expected for Christmas this year. I had done research, read articles on the best ways to keep Christmas relaxed and not overwhelming for an ASD kid. I had prepared myself for Adi not appearing interested or being indifferent but I was not prepared for the look of betrayal on his face. The confusion and hurt that I saw in his eyes and the anger that emerged. It broke my heart.

Christmas Eve we headed to the Vandy Children’s Hospital to help serve at their Christmas Eve service. Something about being there and coming home to open their Christmas Eve Jammies triggered something painful in my boy. He came after me with a vengeance and clawed, pinched and hit me in the face till Brian could get him pulled off. I had dealt with this before…but this time his face broke my heart. I was the woman that tried to step into the role of mom to him and he was angry, hurt, sad and LOST. Brian pulled him into our room to calm while I lay on the floor of Adi’s room sobbing and asking God how to fix this. As a mom, I just want to be able to fix the pain and make it easier but I cannot save my boy from this grief. He must walk through it and slowly come to terms with the changes in his world. At the same time, we were receiving emails from birth parents, sharing their pictures and memories from this time last year. They were hurting too and I was struggling to comfort everyone that was feeling so raw and exposed.

Christmas morning was just about as hard. The same anger still resided in my little boy and I was stressed because his only source of comfort had to go to church. Daddy was leaving us for a while to go play for the Christmas service. Adi retreated to his room. Laying in his bed and withdrawing into a world of electronics. Anna Beth and I followed his lead and allowed him the space. After an hour, I went to his door and requested to come in and hug him. He agreed but offered little in the way of communication. I left his room with a small amount of hope as he had no anger left in him. A few minutes later Adi emerged from his room and climbed right on top of me, ready to quietly re-enter the family. By the time daddy arrived back home, we were on better footing and ready to face the rest of our day.

This first year will be the hardest. Each event or milestone is a step farther from the past and with that brings greater trust but also grief. We are never sure what the triggers are or what will trigger memories but they cause raw and painful emotions to surface. How do you comfort a 5 year old that has all the feels but no way to process them? How do you explain the logic of what happened to him when he does not process thoughts in a logical way? The answer…you don’t. You pray hard, you comfort when you can, you allow for a safe space to express those emotions and you wait for the day when you can share with him his story. How do you comfort birth parents that made a hard /brave choice but are now grieving a loss you can only attempt to imagine? The answer…you don’t. You offer hope, you open your heart to listen to their grief, you share what you can, and you pray God continues to open the door to share salvation with them.

There are days that I wonder how far God can stretch me before I break. But isn’t that what God wants? He wants to break me so more of HIM can be revealed. He wants our story to reflect HIS redemptive power. This Christmas there was joy too. It was that little flicker of hope for what God was doing. Each moment of raging allows for a deeper trust. It provides opportunities for us to pray over Adi out loud so he can be witness to the realness and comfort of this Jesus we always talk about. It gives us opportunities to pour out grace on people that were once strangers to us but are now forever a part of our hearts. The orchestration of our family could have only happened by the hand of God and there is hope in that. I am not sure what 2017 will hold and the “TYPE A” in me would love to plan it out but 2016 has proven that to go deeper with my Jesus, I must surrender my plans. I must place my trust in God and allow Him to continue to push me farther from my comfort zones. My expectations destroy opportunities for God to work in my heart. I’m setting goals that allow flexibility for God’s plans to take precedence. As hard as this story has been, I would choose it over and over again.

Wrapping Up 2016!

How do you wrap up a year like this in just a few sentences? How do you express a year of faith and emotion in one blog? Brian and I sat and talked for about 2 hours last night. Each of us mentally walking through the changes we have experienced and been witness to this year. Both of us quietly in awe of our God stories. There is nothing else that can explain the orchestration of this past year.

We started January 2016 discouraged. In fact Christmas 2015 felt uncertain and disheartening. We had already been in conversations with Adi’s birth parents for 2 months at that point and we felt discouraged by their responses. We had a very small circle of people that we could be completely honest and open with about the conversations taking place behind the scenes. We went to work, church and events with heavy hearts but could not share why. It was not till the end of February that we had an answer. Unless something drastic happened, Adi would soon be coming home to Tennessee. I will never forget the moment we told AB it was happening. She had hoped, dreamed and prayed just like we had. She was just as emotionally invested in this process as we were. I have said it before and I will say it again, that kid is tough as nails. She guards her heart closely and the day she realized she could swing it open, we saw her exhale as though she had been holding her breath for years. Many times we have wondered why God asked us to wait so very long and we may never really know the answer to that question. We both know that God used those years to change our expectations and desires for our adoption. Four years ago we would have not been open to such a unique adoption and all the messy that came with it.

March 19th we made the fastest and hardest trip to meet our son for the very first time. We spent 15 hours in a car, with three, fifteen minute stops so we could arrive in time to meet a family that would forever be intertwined with ours. He had no idea he would be ours. Our time there was emotionally taxing as we were attempting to enter Adi’s world, balance the emotions of our birth parents with our excitement. As a mom, you always imagine holding your child for the first time. As an adoptive mom, you can’t wrap your head around meeting your child when he is 4 ½…I know you don’t know me but I love you, want you, prayed for you and will push you to be your very best. That older girl, sitting on the floor next to you, reading you a book….she prayed for a brother like you for a very long time and she wants you to know that she will protect you. That man, sliding to the floor beside you…he has the biggest heart you will ever know and he will tuck you in every night with prayers and kisses. He will stand over you after you are asleep and stare in wonder that God gave you to us. That first meeting…it shattered my heart. I sat in the floor with birth momma, hugging, and shed tears…we knew this was best but we also knew the grief would be heavy, the quiet she would soon experience would be deafening.

We rushed home and begin finalizing paperwork, painting and decorating his room. Calling the school and setting up meetings, picking a pediatrician, getting medical records and reports sent to the correct offices and sharing our story with a wider group of people. Nothing was set in stone until they signed those papers so we worked in faith. Finally the date was set, bags were packed and we made our way back to New York on May 8th, 2016. I was terrified! If everything went as planned, Brian would leave me behind, in this huge city, with 2 kids, one of which I barely knew. I could be here 2 weeks and possibly have to put my oldest on a plane by herself. But God knows what we need and when we need it. He knows when to rescue us and when to ask more of us. The morning of May 9th changed our family forever. We arrived at the adoption agency just a little while after the birth parents had left. We sat in the same room where they had forever signed away the rights to Adi. Trusting us with his care and believing we were the best choice for their son. I had papers put in my hands…told to sign and initial on several lines and then I looked up into the kind eyes of the case worker. I saw grief and happiness reflected there and I broke. Tears rushed out of my eyes as I realized he was ours but also that he was no longer theirs. I cannot say that we left that office overjoyed and excited. We left that office with heavy hearts at what was still left to face and relief that God had given us a new story. The next two weeks were the hardest we have faced as a family since my bought with cancer in 2010. There was joy in it too but we had to look for it. We had to fight for it. God gave us a miracle that week and our paperwork was processed faster than anyone expected. On May 14th, Anna Beth, Adi, birth parents and I all boarded a plane and headed home. We arrived home and prepared ourselves for watching a long, hard goodbye. I think I shed so many tears that week I was dehydrated. We had pictures done with birth parents, we went on outings, we spent hours talking about their expectations, and finally we said goodbye.

The last half of this year has been surreal. November 22nd, 2016 Adi officially because Aditya Davis Wood! There are still times that Brian and I sneak in to watch Adi sleep for a few minutes just to make sure we did not dream it. We have watched Anna Beth in amazement as she has shown grace, unconditional love and amazing sensitivity to her new sibling. It has been beautiful and it is been so hard. We have had parenting fails and parenting wins. We have fought hard to not loose US during this process. We have learned so much about being intentional every day with our words and actions. We have continued to build our relationship with birth parents while still creating boundaries. We have protected Adi till he felt safe and now we push Adi to expand his walls. We have held Anna Beth as she has navigated the new experience of being a sibling and also the challenges of Middle School. And Brian and I have gone deeper in our relationship as we talk and pray through the hard of this past year. We are turning a corner as we head into this New Year. We will finish our year by dedicating Adi to Jesus on December 18th. We are hoping for a quieter season of life but also looking forward to seeing God work. We want to thank all of you for praying us through this last year. While we are both introverts that are terrible at being social, (still not sure how Anna Beth ended up an extrovert) we appreciate you. We are grateful for you asking us how we are and what we need. For being our village as we navigated some messy days. For crying with us, cheering us on, and quietly nodding your head at us from across the room in solidarity. I am grateful to put 2016 behind us but that does not mean I don’t rejoice in it. I am just ready to move forward and laugh more than I cry…serve more…move out of comfort zones…I want to continue my passion for raising kids to know and love Jesus… to be a village for others. I look forward with expectation to 2017 while quietly reflecting on a year where we saw God change our hearts, and family.

#Yearsinthemaking

We recently finished our last home visit with our adoption agency and are awaiting a finalization of Adi’s adoption. We started this adoption with an email in October of 2015. It is hard to believe it has been almost 6 months of learning this little guy. Spending hours watching him sleep, struggle to understand, and finally come to a place of peace. We will still have hard days ahead of grief and anxiety but for the most part, we are through the hardest transitions. Adi knows who his family is and prefers us over anyone else now. His battles with his sister have lessened and he sleeps without restless dreams, no more waking every little bit to make sure we are still there. He just trusts that we will do what we promise. Our promises are important so we follow through no matter how small. He is starting to delight in family outings and talks about them for days and weeks following. He has found a voice and is learning that it is safe to use it with us. He knows we will love him through his anger and celebrate his accomplishments, loudly I might add. Slowly we are broaching the subject of how he came to be in our family and he is starting to not be fearful or angry when discussing it. God is making himself real to Adi and we are grateful to be witness to that miracle. We remind him daily that Jesus is always with him, even though he cannot see him. That Jesus protects him and gives us everything we need.

Our birth parents are healing and moving forward. We love them and see them in Adi’s face and hear them in his voice. We are fiercely protective of them and also overwhelmed with the responsibility of that. The grief is still there for them but not as overwhelming. We are still praying that God gives them a peace about their choice so they can fully trust us to raise Adi. They have refused counseling so the process is longer and harder. They are opening their hearts to hear from God. We are seeing God work in amazing ways and are praying that He uses this adoption to bring them to the cross. Each week we see a softening in their emails and delight at his pictures/videos rather than hurt. We will soon be moving to less frequent contact and are praying that will give us all progress in the transition.

Anna Beth has faced so much change this year. It has been as hard to watch her walk through these changes as it has been with Adi. Eleven years as an only child and then to suddenly have a 4 year old brother invade every area of your life is hard. She observed all the hard of birth parents grief; she was witness to and victim to Adi’s grief, and she grieved the change in her own family. She wanted this adoption but wanting something does not lessen the effect of it. At the same time of going from the one and only, she was given more independence in the move to Middle School. My girl wants to love having independence but she really LOVES being our little girl. So many hard things she has faced in personal relationships with friends, family dynamic changes, and added responsibility. Anna Beth has not handled all of it well but she has handled most of it with more maturity than I see in some grown adults. We are proud of her and when she struggles, we step in to support and guide. We have moved into a new phase of parenting with her and it is so hard to change roles. She no longer needs our constant physical supervision but now she needs our spiritual and emotional support even more. Daddy and I have had so many quiet conversations on how to love her best through this hard. Sometimes we get it wrong but God showers grace on us in those moments. She continues to grow in beauty both inside and out.

In the last 6 months, Brian and I have dealt with more changes and grief on less sleep than any human should have to endure. At the same time, we have believed that God would sustain us so we have kept moving forward, knowing that the intensity would lessen with time. Many nights we dealt with the kids by dividing and conquering. As patience waned with one, we would switch off kids and plow through. I admittedly have struggled the most between the two of us. Birth momma has sought me out the most and I have been her support through the grief, sometimes daily. There were days that her grief was almost more than I could bare, while at the same time I was trying to walk Adi and AB through their anxiety and grief. There were days I would sit at my desk and just work through tears… tears of grief, exhaustion, and uncertainty, before heading home to face a night of hard. Kids needing emotional support, laundry piled up, a house that had not been truly clean in months and a husband that I lived in the same house with but we could hardly connect. Most of our deep conversations were done through email once we arrived at work. Both of us are emerging out of the fog now, we are planning dates, we are no longer too tired to stay up and talk, and we are able to now push Adi and AB to fly some on their own. We did not adopt a baby, we adopted an almost 5 year old that came with deep emotional baggage, his own opinions that he could not express, and he scrambled to maintain control of something so he felt safe. Slowly we are learning how to function as a family of 4 (#Woodfam4), to thrive and be able to see outside of our little world again. (Please forgive us if we have failed to see and reach out to you the last 6 months) The ties that bind us are growing stronger and God is molding us daily to His image. As we are quickly approaching the end of 2016 and will be celebrating 13 years of marriage soon after, we can now look back with appreciation at the hard of this past year. A year fraught with uncertainty, deep emotional pain, crazy highs, and lots of hard work…many times just trudging through each day. We fought hard to trust God and have been rewarded beyond our comprehension. Once again, God blew away the box we had Him in and made himself real to all of us, including our extended family and friends.

Hard Things

Sometimes God calls you to hard things. Hard things usually involve more than one heart and lots of expectations. This is the case in our adoption. We have agreed and wanted an open adoption with our birth parents. This is both beautiful and hard. Beautiful because it allows for healing, open communication, opportunities for the child to have questions answered in the future, and most of all, an opportunity to share Jesus. Hard because you have to set boundaries, you have to stop trying to live up to their expectations in parenting, you have to let them go so they can heal, and most of all, you have to watch them struggle with their own choices as they learn a new role.

Our story has been long in coming. We spent months in conversations, emails, and Skype calls before we were chosen. We later found out that the birth father originally wanted a different couple. We worked together with birth parents to ease the transition, including them flying back with us and spending several days in our home. We took pictures together, we wept together, we struggled to find our footing together, and we comforted each other. Watching them walk out that door together for last time, I sobbed deep heart sobs as the weight of their grief crushed me. Brian comforted me as I gave in to all the hard moments of the previous weeks and months.

We turned away and began the task of reassuring our son that he was loved, not abandoned. That the choices made would not crush him but were ordained by God for his betterment. Days, weeks, and now months later we have developed trust, albeit fragile. We have developed a healthy relationship with birth parents where in the beginning it was demanding, hard, and harsh with grief. We have gently taught him about Jesus, the one that loves him more than all of his parents can imagine. We have watched him learn to pray, to sing about the one that made him, and to rest in comfort that he is safe. We have sent emails to the birth parents of him praying, singing and talking about Jesus. We have given credit to God that he is adjusting and thriving. Slowly but surely we are seeing an acknowledgement of God in those missives that flow back and forth between the 4 parents that love our son so much.

Last week I received a package in the mail, one that brought me to tears. It held two precious gifts from our birth mother. One was a necklace for me, acknowledging Adi as our child. The second was a bracelet for Anna Beth with Indian symbols from Adi’s heritage. The note with the gifts stated that both had deep meaning and were as special as we were. I sent birth mom an email and asked her what the bracelet meant and what she sent back has me undone. The bracelet pictured below is a symbol of the strong bond between a sister and brother. Typically the brother wears it as a promise to be a protector for his sister. In this case, the birth mom felt that Anna Beth was more of Adi’s protector and that Adi would one day earn the privilege of wearing it. In that moment, I watched as I saw my daughter’s eyes soften and fill with love towards her brother, that at times, can be hard to live beside.

Sometimes God calls us to hard things but there is joy and growth in the journey. There are hearts that change, soften and move towards our Father’s heart. We are praying that God does big things not just in ours and Adi’s heart but also in the broken hearts of our birth parents. God’s purpose is not always clear but there is purpose. There is always the plan of drawing us near. He will do anything and everything to draw us unto himself. He loves us enough to require us to labor, journey, and even suffer as he proves his love towards us.

So many times I have wondered what would have happened if we had quit the adoption process. We were so close to stopping, thinking we had not truly heard God’s call to this. We labored in prayer and could not gain peace to stop…just a few weeks later God brought Adi’s story into our lives. God equips us for every path/challenge he tasks us with. Our hard, at this time, is wrapped up in the most perfect set of brown eyes you can imagine. It requires us to be diligent in our relationships with God, our marriage, our children, and our birth parents. It is exhausting, taxes our limits of patience and grows our capacity to love. Oh friends…the beauty in the hard is so amazing that I could not have imagined it. If given the opportunity, I would choose it all over again. I would weep all those tears, I would grieve deeply, and I would choose to have my heart crushed. My prayer is that I would always be open to walking the hard rather than skipping through the easy.

Triggers...

Last night at dinner, I was watching and interacting with my little family. It has been almost 4 months of being a family of 4 and sometimes Brian and I take for granted how much has changed in those 4 months. We are basically in a routine and everyone, for the most part has adjusted and integrated into our roles. We contentedly march along and then we suddenly get smacked in the face with a painful trigger. Some of our family had come to town a little over a week ago and stayed in a hotel. Brian took the kids over to swim in the hotel pool and visit. Adi fell apart. It was the first time he had been in a hotel since we traveled to New Jersey to bring him home. He was overcome with fear that we would abandon him and it has set off a series of triggers for over a week now.

Brian and I realized that the worst thing we could do, would be to change our schedule and cater to his fears so we have kept up our schedules of school, activities and church. Everywhere we go, he asks if we are coming back to get him. We discuss it before, after and each time we pick him up, the smile that covers his face breaks my heart. I understand that smile comes from the relief that mommy and daddy did not abandon him. One moment he is crying and the next he is angry and abusive.
It is exhausting to face those ups and downs and no, we do not always respond the right way. There were times this weekend that I was so weary of watching my little boy attack Anna Beth that I would grow angry. Not really angry at Adi but angry at the brokenness that has caused such fear and grief. I also saw hope in those moments of deep hurt. Adi has begun to pray when he gets upset. He will stop, with tears in his eyes, his fists clinched, and just start thanking Jesus for everything. He may thank God for Kindergarten, doors, his snack, etc but he is turning his anger into a list of things to be grateful for. Brian and I have, from the moment we brought him home, prayed over him when he is scared, upset and angry. We talk to Jesus as though he is right there with us and ask God to calm Adi, to let him know that Jesus loves him and will protect him. We thank Jesus for our family, for how he is with us at all times and how he made us special. Last night, out of the blue, Adi said, “Mommy, pray with me” and so I did. He sat in the floor with his hands clasped, eyes wide open and listened to me pray, interrupting at times to tell me something else to pray for and it was precious.

God is making himself real to Adi. Despite autism and the limitations society places on this diagnosis, Adi is learning that Jesus loves him. Our God has no barriers to revealing his presence. Someday I fully believe that God will break through and Adi will understand the degree to which Jesus was willing to sacrifice for him. The layers of paperwork, home visits, waiting and grief are so that Adi can learn of Jesus deep devotion to him.

Anna Beth is learning how to love beyond the anger and pain. She is learning to recognize God working through this hard season. I knew that God had prepared her heart for this but it still amazes me to see my 11 year old respond to abuse with love and understanding. This does not mean she is happy about it but she is understanding, that while Adi loves her deeply, his hurt is just as deep. His responses are not appropriate but he has no other skills to express it. Little by little we are seeing this change as we are seeing the trust deepen.

We are careful to not make promises without follow through, we are careful to keep schedules and offer constant assurances. We are adjusting to a life of deep grief and abundant joy. The work is hard, the rewards are too numerous to count but we try. I am a grateful momma that has seen God surround my little ones with people that point them to Jesus. I am grateful for a church that has supported, prayed over and embraced our family. I am grateful for our family that has accepted our choice for adoption and jumped in to love with Adi abandon.

If you think of it, we are traveling with Adi for the first time this weekend. We are preparing him as much as we are able but we will be staying in a hotel. This is likely to cause some fear but this trip, in the end, will also gain trust. Pray for Adi’s heart to feel safe, that he will learn to trust our commitment to him. That we, as his parents and sister, will continue to love him through this hard, to point him to Jesus when he is unsure. We love our little guy with the broken story and big brown eyes. We are stunned each day to be entrusted with his heart.

Behind The Perfectly Painted Door...

There are nights Brian and I lie in bed with a cute little boy snuggled between us and we are stunned. It has been 3 long, exhausting months. As hard as the days and nights are, they are easy compared to the wait to get here. As much as we trusted God when we paid fees, filled out paperwork, went through the process of interviews and updates year after year, we are still stunned. We never expected this…this precious little boy that has filled our hearts and broken them at the same time.

You have seen the pictures on social media. The pictures of couples with chalk boards, balloons, and baby shoes, declaring their intention to adopt. They are sentimental and they get us all feely and cheered up about someone doing something good in this world. You see them raising money and blasting their excitement all over the place. You may even see some of them preparing baby rooms and making plans. Slowly you hear about it less and less and then it just gets quiet. Let me tell you what is happening behind their perfectly painted door…they are grieving. Many of them have gone through years of infertility that walked them down a long path of dying to a dream.

You see, one day they got married, had the perfect wedding, waited the appropriate amount of time and then started trying to have that baby everyone was always asking about. They realized it was taking too long so they changed the way they ate, they tried all these holistic methods, they went to doctors but the reality is… God’s plans are not our plans. Sometimes He says no to our dreams. Sometimes he directs our path differently than we expected. Everyone asking them about when they are going to start that perfect little family just makes it hurt all over again. Then one day, that same sweet couple, after walking through the hard of that grief, hear God calling them to adopt. It seems like the perfect solution and they would be affecting the life of a child who might never know of our heavenly Father otherwise. They get all excited about the possibilities, they go to meetings with agencies, they make plans, they pay fees and they fill out paperwork. They fill out more paperwork then you can possibly imagine! They may even write a letter to that sweet birth momma they have started praying over and then they go home and wait…

At first the wait is fun. You make plans, you talk about what you think it will be like. You lay together in bed at night picking out names and praying over your baby. You start networking with other couples adopting and start attending support groups. Months go by and you see some of those new friends posting pictures of their babies on Facebook and Instagram. They are talking about the wonder of adoption and how perfect and amazing it all is. You sit behind that computer and feel the tug of hurt that a birth momma has not picked you. A year rolls by and your hope starts to fade. You weep in grief once again, wondering if you really heard God’s call to adopt or if you were just trying to come up with a solution. You talk about it with your spouse but they don’t know how to express their confusion and grief over this newest hurt either. Sometimes you pray about it together and sometimes you hurt alone, afraid to talk about it, so that you won’t bring up the pain to your mate and make them hurt too. The agency calls and says it is time to do an annual update to the home-study. You go through the motions and it renews the hope for a while longer but the months keep rolling by and you realize that you can no longer wait to go on vacation. You can’t save up that vacation time for a maternity leave that may never happen. People stop asking how the adoption process is going. People that do remember and ask bring up the hurt all over again. You are grateful they care but you feel the isolation creeping in.

For us, we did have that one child and were content. Or at least that is what we kept telling ourselves. We did long for a child God whispered on our hearts. We did lie in bed, praying together, questioning God and grieving the loss of a child we had never held. From start to finish, it was 4 long years of waiting, 3 years of officially being on a list. Those years were isolating as it felt as though God said do this and then snatched that dream back. God was there, he was quietly putting together our family of 4 in a way we never dreamed and during that time, he softened our hearts towards an adoption we would have said no to in the beginning.

That wait is painful my friends but there is purpose in it. That purpose for us is in the form of the cutest, funniest, high maintenance, little brown boy you have ever seen. Our nights are different now and we still grieve, just for a different reason. We grieve for the broken story that brought our family to completion. We pray over his heart and the hearts of his birth parents. The birth parents that were brave enough to let go when they realized he needed more. We grieve for the hard that is sure to come, in the future as he grows and realizes his story is different. We grieve for the hard moments for our birth parents as they face the reality of signing those papers.
We celebrate too…we celebrate the first time he prayed, the first time he asked to read his Bible for bedtime routine. We celebrated the first birthday with a huge family party and a cake the size of Texas. Our hearts smiled the first time he told us he loved us and called us mommy, daddy and sister. We celebrate what God did to make us a family.
So…if you see that precious couple posting pictures and announcements on social media about their dreams of adoption, please pray for them. Many have grieved deeply to even be ready for this moment and they have more grief to come. Even those that have a picture perfect baby placed in their arms, will face years of grief and hard in the future as they walk their child through their broken and beautiful story!

Behind The Perfectly Painted Door...

There are nights Brian and I lie in bed with a cute little boy snuggled between us and we are stunned. It has been 3 long, exhausting months. As hard as the days and nights are, they are easy compared to the wait to get here. As much as we trusted God when we paid fees, filled out paperwork, went through the process of interviews and updates year after year, we are still stunned. We never expected this…this precious little boy that has filled our hearts and broken them at the same time.

You have seen the pictures on social media. The pictures of couples with chalk boards, balloons, and baby shoes, declaring their intention to adopt. They are sentimental and they get us all feely and cheered up about someone doing something good in this world. You see them raising money and blasting their excitement all over the place. You may even see some of them preparing baby rooms and making plans. Slowly you hear about it less and less and then it just gets quiet. Let me tell you what is happening behind their perfectly painted door…they are grieving. Many of them have gone through years of infertility that walked them down a long path of dying to a dream.

You see, one day they got married, had the perfect wedding, waited the appropriate amount of time and then started trying to have that baby everyone was always asking about. They realized it was taking too long so they changed the way they ate, they tried all these holistic methods, they went to doctors but the reality is… God’s plans are not our plans. Sometimes He says no to our dreams. Sometimes he directs our path differently than we expected. Everyone asking them about when they are going to start that perfect little family just makes it hurt all over again. Then one day, that same sweet couple, after walking through the hard of that grief, hear God calling them to adopt. It seems like the perfect solution and they would be affecting the life of a child who might never know of our heavenly Father otherwise. They get all excited about the possibilities, they go to meetings with agencies, they make plans, they pay fees and they fill out paperwork. They fill out more paperwork then you can possibly imagine! They may even write a letter to that sweet birth momma they have started praying over and then they go home and wait…

At first the wait is fun. You make plans, you talk about what you think it will be like. You lay together in bed at night picking out names and praying over your baby. You start networking with other couples adopting and start attending support groups. Months go by and you see some of those new friends posting pictures of their babies on Facebook and Instagram. They are talking about the wonder of adoption and how perfect and amazing it all is. You sit behind that computer and feel the tug of hurt that a birth momma has not picked you. A year rolls by and your hope starts to fade. You weep in grief once again, wondering if you really heard God’s call to adopt or if you were just trying to come up with a solution. You talk about it with your spouse but they don’t know how to express their confusion and grief over this newest hurt either. Sometimes you pray about it together and sometimes you hurt alone, afraid to talk about it, so that you won’t bring up the pain to your mate and make them hurt too. The agency calls and says it is time to do an annual update to the home-study. You go through the motions and it renews the hope for a while longer but the months keep rolling by and you realize that you can no longer wait to go on vacation. You can’t save up that vacation time for a maternity leave that may never happen. People stop asking how the adoption process is going. People that do remember and ask bring up the hurt all over again. You are grateful they care but you feel the isolation creeping in.

For us, we did have that one child and were content. Or at least that is what we kept telling ourselves. We did long for a child God whispered on our hearts. We did lie in bed, praying together, questioning God and grieving the loss of a child we had never held. From start to finish, it was 4 long years of waiting, 3 years of officially being on a list. Those years were isolating as it felt as though God said do this and then snatched that dream back. God was there, he was quietly putting together our family of 4 in a way we never dreamed and during that time, he softened our hearts towards an adoption we would have said no to in the beginning.

That wait is painful my friends but there is purpose in it. That purpose for us is in the form of the cutest, funniest, high maintenance, little brown boy you have ever seen. Our nights are different now and we still grieve, just for a different reason. We grieve for the broken story that brought our family to completion. We pray over his heart and the hearts of his birth parents. The birth parents that were brave enough to let go when they realized he needed more. We grieve for the hard that is sure to come, in the future as he grows and realizes his story is different. We grieve for the hard moments for our birth parents as they face the reality of signing those papers.
We celebrate too…we celebrate the first time he prayed, the first time he asked to read his Bible for bedtime routine. We celebrated the first birthday with a huge family party and a cake the size of Texas. Our hearts smiled the first time he told us he loved us and called us mommy, daddy and sister. We celebrate what God did to make us a family.
So…if you see that precious couple posting pictures and announcements on social media about their dreams of adoption, please pray for them. Many have grieved deeply to even be ready for this moment and they have more grief to come. Even those that have a picture perfect baby placed in their arms, will face years of grief and hard in the future as they walk their child through their broken and beautiful story!