It's been quite the year.
I know those who follow along on this blog want to know what transpired a couple of weeks ago. As much as I value being open and honest, all I can tell you is we were asked to come to Josiah's birth state, we were treated rather poorly by all parties involved, and then we were asked to leave without the baby brother we were expecting. Words can't describe the heartbreak, the fear, the confusion.
However, as much as I would love to vent all of the details and share all of the ways we were wronged, we have to remember that Josiah's birth mother is a woman made in God's image. Sharing our story without her input puts her in a very bad light, and as much as she has hurt us, we will continue to love her because that is what we are called to do. Above that, our son deserves that privacy.
If you were to ask me in person right now how I was doing I would smile and say "I'm okay". I would most likely change the subject, and do everything I could to not make our interaction awkward. Conversations come to screeching halt with me around these days.
Case in point:
At a bridal shower not long ago, while I was genuinely celebrating the bride and enjoying the company, I couldn't get through a conversation without some hard truths coming out.
"How are your dogs?" Someone asked. I couldn't in good conscience answer "oh, fine," when one had died just hours before.
"How is the adoption going?" only days after the first time things got really rocky.
Even today, sitting at the park, someone who knows we adopted but doesn't know me personally wanted to know more about our current adoption. Sorry if she wanted a long conversation with an excited expectant mother, because she couldn't have moved to another bench fast enough when I told her "yeah, he was born last week and she chose to parent. So, nope, no sibling yet."
2017 was hard because it was a year of waiting and no motion, which is something a do-er and planner like me struggles with.
But 2018? It's the year my closest local friend officially moved away. It's the year I lost the job I loved and that connected me to this community. It's the year I became a stay at home mom when I wasn't ready, but the year I can't take a new job because I can't take an unexpected maternity leave a week in and I have hope that something HAS to happen eventually. It's the year we had an adoption opportunity fall through in the spring. It's the year we got chosen for an adoption I didn't feel good about but no one, including the adoption professionals, cared about my concerns until it was too late. It's the year my dog of 12 years died. It's the year I went to Australia (which is mostly a good thing, and I am blessed to have an amazingly talented student that gave me the opportunity and I met many great kids) but the organization we traveled with was absolutely horrible. It's the year we were taken advantage of. It's the year we spent two days in a hospital waiting room praying for a baby we'll never get to hold.
It's the year I have felt the most lonely. I don't blame anyone. We've had lovely notes of encouragement and love and hugs without words and so many sweet things. I get it that no one really knows what to say. I don't know what anyone should say, either. I understand that lives will move on, with or without me moving forward, too. I recognize that I will never be the kind of person with the kind of friendships I wish I had during this season of life. We have plenty of friends cheering for us and there are some who have done what they could to check in, for which I am extremely grateful.
I guess the point of this post, if there can be one, is it's been a rough time around here. We're heartbroken, I'm physically tired from the emotional onslaught. But we have to move on with hope. God doesn't promise another child in our lives. He doesn't promise things will get better. But we trust Him anyway.
