In adoption, the way the process works is that a "match" (which is what we have) is as official and final as it gets until after the baby is born. But there is nothing legally binding, no guarantees. Nothing can become official legally until the baby is born and the adoption is finalized.
There are two options after being matched with a birthmom and moving forward with an adoption. You can choose to hold back and protect yourself, not get attached, not hope. "Cautious optimism". Withold your love. Choose not to give any piece of your heart to this child yet. Not to have too much compassion or love for the birthmother. Keep yourself from getting emotionally involved. Then if something goes wrong - if she changes her mind at any time in the process - you won't be as hurt...
At least that's the way the (misguided) theory goes. And btw, I ascribed to this theory most of my life before realizing that it's total crap a few years ago.
The second option is to go all in. Open your heart to this baby. Choose to let yourself get exited and expectant and hopeful, assuming that all will go well and that this is your baby, and that they will be in your arms soon - forever. Choose to defy your fear of pain and disappointment and step forward with arms and heart wide open. Choose to love.
And as we wait, this is always a choice. Multiple times every day. Because as humans, our instincts of self-protection are strong. It is never easy to make the choice to put yourself out there. It is an act of the will. So, some days I feel completely freaked out and afraid to love one moment, and the next moment (after a little self pep talk) I am right there, loving this little munchkin of ours from two states away.
(Side note- even leaving the words "of ours" there (above) was difficult for me. I deleted them. Then I heard a voice say, "leave them there". Every moment, a choice - to believe that he is ours or to protect myself. "Of ours" it is. Just got totally called out by the Spirit! :) Writing about choosing to risk and put myself out there, and then almost deleting those two words in order to protect myself. Classic. I told you it's a constant choice!)
The reality is that protecting yourself doesn't take away the pain if things do fall apart. Ultimately, the pain will be there regardless of whether you were hopeful and expectant or cautious and guarded. I have friends who have gone through the pain of a miscarriage. Losing a child, whether through miscarriage or through a failed adoption, is gut-wrenching. But protecting yourself by choosing to expect the worst doesn't lessen the pain. It does, however, rob you of the sweet experience of love. So what's the point?
Micah and I chose very deliberately with Douglas to continually step forward and open our hearts to him and to his birth mother. We knew that, if we lost him, we would be completely devastated, but we would be glad that we had prayed for him and sent him love and light all those months. One can never have too many people loving them. So we would at least be two more people in this world loving this precious baby. And, if everything went as planned (which it did), then we would have been loving him and bonding with him from afar for 6 months - and that is what he deserves.
In my opinion, the risk of protecting yourself is that the day your baby is put into your waiting arms, you have no connection, no bond, because you've witheld yourself - your heart - from this baby all along. You haven't prepared emotionally. You haven't let yourself be drawn in by this tiny baby before they were born. You have to start at square one. And this is not what we want for our children. We want to greet them with all the love and joy and openness that we possess.
Our Aunt Theresa (whose 3 children are adopted) calls this stage of the adoption process the "labor of waiting". I don't have to go through physical labor like many women do. I go through an emotional labor. And let me tell you, it is hard. It's not easy choosing to love with all your might when you have no control and no guarantee and no rights. But it is the only thing to do, really. Because we want to always choose love. A friend of mine told me, when we were anxiously waiting for Douglas to be born, that Micah and I were learning to walk not by sight but faith, not fear but hope. That is one of the many beautiful (and difficult) things that the adoption process brings.
So here we go. Through our labor of waiting. It will truly be an emotional rollercoaster, no doubt - it always is. It will be exhausting. Adoption is mystical and beautiful and painful and amazing. It begins with pain and loss, and then God redeems it and brings beauty and love forth from it.
For us, it has brought a family and a life that is nothing like what we pictured and yet more amazing and wonderful than we ever could have hoped for.
May we all learn to walk more by faith and hope.
Go all in. See what happens. Even if you get hurt, at least you can say that you loved. And that's really what life is all about anyway. Love.
1 comment:
So true, and perfectly said.
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