waiting.

came across these words today, from "When the Heart Waits" by Sue Monk Kidd:

I had tended to view waiting as mere passivity. When I looked it up in my dictionary however, I found that the words passive and passion come from the same Latin root, pati, which means "to endure." Waiting is thus both passive and passionate. It's a vibrant, contemplative work. It means descending into self, into God, into the deeper labyrinths of prayer. It involves listening to disinherited voices within, facing the wounded holes in the soul, the denied and undiscovered, the places one lives falsely. It means struggling with the vision of who we really are in God and molding the courage to live that vision.


while a part of me wants to put up a fight ~ "haven't we waited long enough??", there is also something profound about this time. it feels very familiar, like the "two week waits" of this summer, so filled with hope and wonder, fingers crossed. and yet it feels different. we're waiting for a much more immediate reality. we've never been so close before. it's mind boggling. i can not put into words the dichotomy of feelings, of hope and dread for the phone call we await. if i think about it too much i feel a bit sick. or maybe that's the extra cup of coffee i drank on an empty stomach. and even in the midst of these unexplainable feelings, Sue's words resonate so well. waiting is not wasting. the wait time is preparatory. it is a gift. it provides us time to enter into the places that would otherwise be avoided or neglected.

 My soul finds rest in God alone; my salvation comes from him. He alone is my rock and my salvation; he is my fortress, I will never be shaken. Psalm 62: 1,2

not knowing is such a hard thing for me. i do recognize the beauty in it, and I have decided to try to embrace it this week, not spend all my time preparing for one decision or the other. i look forward to the potential of having to "sort it out" when the decision comes. (or dread. depending on the outcome.) but my flesh has always struggled with the desire to "figure it all out". only then would i feel in control. prepared. able to understand. able to explain.

i have learned (am learning) that not everything is explainable. not on this side of heaven. as much as i like to think of myself as a "big picture" thinker, still, i only see things through veiled eyes. i am just barely starting to appreciate that fact, vs. be frustrated by it. i'm starting to find peace in it. trusting that the One who sees the whole picture is at work, and is good.

Find rest, O my soul, in God alone; my hope comes from him.  He alone is my rock and my salvation; he is my fortress, I will not be shaken.  My salvation and my honor depend on God; he is my mighty rock, my refuge.  Trust in him at all times, O people; pour out your hearts to him, for God is our refuge. "Selah". Psalm 62: 5-8

selah. pause. don't rush it.
take the time.

even as we are awaiting this current "life altering moment"... and as the same moment, the same decision alters not only OUR lives, but the lives of four other families, FOUR, and their respective extended families and communities. even in these most breath-holding, unnerving, and holy moments... what we see, feel, experience is not all that is going on. this is a piece of it. we are a piece of this extravagant story. so humbling. especially when confronted with our own desires, wishes, dreams. "can it just be our turn??" i am compelled to just be quiet.

be quiet and wait.

i don't deny that there are thoughts that can spin out of control, fears that want to cripple me. we've been here before, and it's practical to be aware that this could turn out as it has in the past. but there i go wanting to figure it all out again. preemptively deal with whatever. so, i ask for grace, to quiet those thoughts. to be still.  to quiet my own thoughts, and listen to truth. the truth that is deep inside me.

One thing God has spoken, two things have I heard: that you, O God, are strong, and that you, O Lord, are loving. (vs. 11-12)

stronger than I.
full of love for us.

i will wait.

thoughts

i had this puzzled thought for a moment... if we do get chosen, what do i do with this blog? well, the infertility is still there. motherhood in a different form. i have so many thoughts about how this might be. so many beautiful ideas about the relationship we can have with the birthparents of this little girl. the desire to try to stomp out the adoption stigmas and just say "why can't we" have a good and open relationship. her story starts with them. that is real and true and lovely. such goodness, the life that springs forth. such beauty, all that she will grow to be. such a miracle, her existance. in this world, in our lives. i just can almost feel her in my arms, see her taking her first steps, see myself sneaking into her nursery to watch her sleep. it so close. so close to actually happening.

and the fear creeps in. will it ever be? or is this the best i get - just imagining and catching glimpses of what it could be like to be a mother. someone carelessly said to me today "well, at least you don't have to deal with all the hormones!".  hmm. how i wish i could have each and every experience of a pregnancy. even the ones, i suppose, that must feel like the ones tonight - is this actually going to happen? when will i be able to hold that precious life? when will motherhood begin? seemingly unbelievable. as one friend reminded me earlier this week: it can all change in a moment. one moment and we turn the page. enter a new chapter.

what an amazing thing, walking through life. so many unexpected turns and gifts and hurdles and lessons... all growing us  and changing us. from the inside out. we see only parts of the script, i think. so grateful tonight (and resting in the truth) that our loving God is carefully writing this story. he can handle my thoughts and fears and worries. he cares about them. i can give them to him. i can trust him.

restless

i think i'm catching a glimpse of what my friends and sisters who have experienced childbirth must have been feeling in the final days before birth. what a helplessly restless experience to be waiting and unable to make anything happen more quickly, and try to just relax in the "calm before the storm". so many unknowns. no guarantees, but knowing that things could change drastically so quickly. excitement, nervousness, restlessness.

we have not yet had the chance to meet with the birthparents of the precious baby girl that is scheduled to be born Monday. a situation came up in cleveland and the meeting had to be rescheduled. for today. we are still waiting, however, to see if today will happen because we've been graced with a new downpour of snow across the state. cleveland news calls it a "panhandle hook" - fast moving winter storm. hopefully it moves fast enough to get out of our way.

the last few days have been filled with anticipation. cleaning house, rearranging, making space ~ for a new person to come into our lives. i've been "nesting" again, i guess. achievements? my oven is clean; the medicine cabinet is decluttered and sparkling; kitchen is reorganized with adequate space for bottle making, cleaning and storing;  rooms are dusted and vacuumed; laundry is clean; nursery is open for business. now all we need is baby.

woah.

so, tomorrow is a big day.
we got a phone call this afternoon that the birthmom that we will be meeting tomorrow has been admitted to the hospital, and this baby could come any time. they're hoping to buy another week. but... we know how that can go. this baby girl could be here any time.
it's so close i can almost touch it.
still, there's the ever-present reality that another two couples who will also be meeting "birthmom" are hoping and praying for the same thing we are. for us, this means, while it feels SO CLOSE, it could ultimately be over very soon ~ this expectancy. 
talking with one of my sisters this afternoon i expressed that this "heart in my throat" feeling must be something like what one must feel when they find out they are pregnant - "this could really be it!" vs. "this might not last", but with such excitement and nervousness. i can't quite put it into words. but it struck me, this feeling i have this afternoon is maybe the closest i will ever get to whatever that other feeling must be. and when i think about what this could mean for us, and think about holding that sweet baby girl in my arms, there's this explosive feeling. wow. 
tomorrow is a big day.
so much to do tonight to get projects out of the way and be ready for whatever tomorrow will bring.
praying for grace and peace for our hearts, and for all the others' involved. what a delicate thing this all is.

my gain, someone else's loss

still pondering the complexity of our current situation. we FINALLY heard back from the adoption agency last night. we are one of three couples who have been chosen by the expectant couple i wrote about on Feb 1st to meet in person. we will meet them next Tuesday. so humbling. a little nerve wrecking. we are steadfast in our desire to "just be ourselves" for this "first date", and trust that if it's meant to be, there will be a connection. out of our hands, out of our control. SO HARD.  of course we wish and hope and pray that they will choose us, that we'll make a love connection, that this couple will decide we are the right ones to entrust their baby with, to raise and love and have as our own. we are longing for that to happen. LONGING. and then, i think about the other two "moms-to-be" that are hoping for the exact same thing. two of us are not getting the rose. two of us are going home, broken hearted, with empty arms. again.

this is one of those most tangible times we ask for and cling to the peace that passes all understanding.

makin' the headlines...

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/dina-roth-port/infertility-the-disease-w_b_819978.html

it's february.

time keeps moving forward.

last week that little precious baby boy was likely born, that i had dreamed would be mine. vivid dreams, hopes, plans, onesies, diapers, and all. i hope all those hopeful and loving thoughts and gestures somehow contribute to some kind of goodness in his life. i believe that things worked out for the best. my loss is someone else's gain. i pray with kindness for his birthmom, who, i knew even when we met for the adoption planning, wanted him so much. 

today, a new expectant couple is supposed to be looking at our "profile", we've been told. i'm humbled again by this process. we are positioned in this place of hoping for something that ultimately comes from someone else's loss or misfortune. my idealistic thinking can craftily shape the situation to be otherwise. adoption IS, afterall, such a beautiful gift. but it is also filled with brokenness. pain, shame, regret, inadequacy, fear, lack of support, broken dreams, loss. hopefully adoption provides some measure of redemption or an answer to some of those things... a resolution to an unexpected plot change in someone's story....

so i wonder, what really do i pray? i feel i can't at this point just pray for this to "work out in our favor". there seems to be something much bigger going on. i pray for truth and peace and hope and grace to fill this situation. that this experience wouldn't just be one that brings further joy to MY life, but to the expectant couple of this baby. and if adoption is the next part of moving forward, and if we are the intended parents, that we can offer that joy and hope and grace... to all involved.