Last week we got ‘the call’ …
If you are an adoptive parent, who has waited, or is waiting, you will know EXACTLY what I mean by THE CALL.
The call to say that our wait was over.
The call to say that we can meet and bring home a small person to raise as if he was born unto us, as if he is our own.
The call to say that everything we have been intentionally reading, listening, discussing and praying is about to be made real.
In the Christian calendar, we are in Advent. A season of waiting and of hope.
My guy asked me last week what I wanted for Christmas. I didn’t really want anything other than for our small person to be home. I said so – in fact I even suggested he call the social workers and put it out there!
The next day we got the call. Our personal waiting was over.
It’s been a bittersweet time of choosing adoption
I have always wanted to adopt. I have always thought that this makes sense in terms of growing families.
I have also wondered what happens to mothers who choose not to raise their children post-delivery for whatever reason (whether through relinquishing their children for adoption or abandonment).
I have wrestled with the fact that we are on a register waiting for a child whose birth mother would have had to release him – however that looked for her, as well as him for her.
Not out of pity, but simply as I have had to release a child, not born unto me, but one that I cared for deeply into the adoption process and it was one of the most bittersweet moments of my world – I was over the moon excited that he had a family which was going to be fully his.
I was devastated that I couldn’t be it.
This week I have reflected on the journey to tomorrow and all it has held.
From my guy and I debating whether to go the adoption route first or the birth babies first.
I have had moments of intense grief for a birth mom who was carrying a baby to term but would not see him grow.
I have had intense gratitude and frustration at the fact that this baby is going to be cared for by others between his birth mom and coming to us.
I have been sad for the ‘others’ who care for, look after, love and celebrate children knowing that they will have to say goodbye.
I have had days where it felt okay and days where it felt awful and like it was never going to be real that we would get the call.
It’s bittersweet …
The sweetness of meeting him tomorrow doesn’t change the preceding part of his story, or ours.
The sweetness of meeting him does change how we engage with the world.
The sweetness of him is a reminder that he has a birth mom who has her own story and who we can honour in how we engage with him in our new family of three, regardless of the story, for she is his birth mom.
The sweetness of him is a reminder that there are spaces which are sacred and the journey into parenthood is one of them.
We are excited to meet our boy.
We are overwhelmed and (beautifully) normal in our nervous anticipation of the pending changes in our worlds.
I can’t wait to meet him. To hold him. To snuggle and feed him. To watch him grow.
I can’t wait to see my guy in his role as father, protector and guide.
New ways of being are going to be unlocked.
This is scary exciting.