Remember that one time? When I was all…Let’s save the world! And then I fell off the blogging planet for a month.
Hi. Thank’s for having me back. And sorry about that.
I am finding myself in such a strange place with blogging and writing and thinking and doing anything that revolves around me talking about my family (other than Emara, duh).
And I figured out why this morning.
Because I want to stomp my feet and pout and stick out my tongue at the world and yell “WHY IS GROWING A FAMILY SO DAMN DIFFICULT?!? AND WHY DO ADOPTIONS TAKE SOOOOOOO LONG?!?!?!?!”
Yes, as shameful as it would be for a 30 year old woman to do such a thing in public with a big grey tshirt, flannel pants, hair slicked down from 3-day-no-wash oil and no bra (this is how I picture myself doing said pouting)…. I still want to do it.
So to keep myself from pouting and being the annoying person who complains when there are a million things to be thankful for, I have stayed away from this portal.
But, this morning, as I was thinking about our little baby from Ethiopia, who is more than likely alive at this moment on the other side of the world, I thought:
But, I want you to know. I want you to know that I am mad. And tired. And I just WANT YOU HOME.
I am mad that this process is so long. I am mad that someone else is learning you. Learning your cry and which one means change me and which one means feed me. I am mad that you might be screaming and nobody is responding. I am mad that because of stupid government hold-ups and crappy mail systems and corrupt people, that I don’t know you yet. And I can’t protect you from anything, anyone. I am mad that I am just waiting on other people to get their job done so I can just hold you and see you and know your sweet little face.
And I am mad that I have three babies in heaven. I am mad that my damn body is broken. I am mad that I have one kidney that hardly kept it together during Emara’s birth. I am mad that my doctor told me that he won’t deliver another child of mine because it is too dangerous. I am mad that I don’t even have the option of having another baby on my own. Even if we chose not to, that choice is no longer mine to make. I am mad that everyone else is on their 2nd, 3rd child since we first got pregnant back in 2008. I am mad that I have this desire to have a full house of kids but know that if we choose to adopt anymore after this first adoption, that the road is long and frustrating and hard and I honestly don’t know if we want to do that again.
Open Gates. Enter Rushing Flood.
See, this is why I keep my mouth shut! I function so much better when we talk about things like smoothies and Emara and polka dot pants and who is going home on The Voice.
I do kind of feel better. And with all the snot that just came out while I was crying through that, I now have clear sinuses.
Seriously though, I have had a constant ache in my heart after we lost our first child. An ache for the children that I will never meet on this side of eternity. And now I have this ache for our 5th little one from Ethiopia.
And I’m tired of being all ache-y.
I remember after we lost our three babies and Scott and I were so broken and tired and sad and we had decided to stop trying to have more kids. I had to give up the idea of what my family was going to look like. I had to give up the idea of my family growing the way I wanted it to grow. And I did that. I let it all go. And this was before Emara ever came into the picture. Before we ever decided to adopt. I let it go.
I am at that place again….but for a slightly different reason. I need to give up my timeline of our next child coming home. I need to let go of being mad about this whole family business not going the way I planned.
I need to just let it go and patiently wait.
Ok, strike the word ‘patiently”.
We ALL know that part ain’t happening.