It probably isn’t fair to call it a rejection, but it feels that way.
Over the last couple of weeks, we’ve received several emails of situations, both babies and older children in need of adoptive parents. We read through the emails, but none of them seemed to be the right fit (for various reasons).
Then … a different email.
Thursday morning, I was still curled up in bed, going through my daily routine of fighting the reality that I must exit said bed. I browsed my email, and I came to an email from our agency. I read through the details, and I came to life! I read the email to Joseph, and we agreed something was different, something stirred within us to pursue this baby – this baby girl due in the Charleston area in just over six weeks.
My stomach was happy twisty, and I had thousands of words that needed to escape my mouth in the hours to come. Joseph didn’t have quite as many words. ;O)
The birth parents’ agency is showing them profiles of prospective adoptive parents next week, so we scheduled our home study for Monday afternoon, and I worked on our profile book while watching a few more episodes of LOST and dehydrating over an episode of Grey’s Anatomy. We were excited about the possibility of being matched and holding a daughter in our arms in a matter of weeks, though we attempted to remind ourselves that we weren’t the only ones feeling hopeful about this baby girl.
I had just finished dropping a couple of pictures into our book, and Joseph was putting on the finishing touches for lunch. My phone rang. The agency in Charleston. I grabbed the remote control quickly and muted the shouts of people who had just discovered another hatch. Joseph hurried over to listen.
Within a few minutes, the director of the agency explained that we wouldn’t be able to complete everything in time to be considered. She tried to encourage me that our agency would find another baby for us, but she may as well have punched me in the gut. In the moment, it would have hurt less.
I didn’t guard my heart. Probably a rookie mistake. Probably just who I am.
I let myself hope a little. I let myself start imagining Joseph as a daddy to a precious little girl. I let myself think about finding a pediatrician (part of the string of thousands of words within a couple of hours).
I know I shouldn’t have. I know that even if we had everything ready, we still weren’t the only ones who wanted this little girl. The parents may not have chosen us. That would have hurt even more.
I swallowed bite after bite of my lunch, choking back tears. I finally told Joseph I just wanted to crawl back into bed.
Back to the place where hope was stirred.
It probably seems silly to be crying over a child who was never ours, especially since we hadn’t even really begun the process. Her parents didn’t see pictures of us. We didn’t meet them. We didn’t see ultrasound pictures or start picking out a name.
But we hoped, and hope once stirred is a powerful thing.
So, now, we cling to our One True Hope. We trust He has a perfect match out there for us. He’s busy knitting them together in their mother’s womb. And He sees us waiting. He knows us. He loves us. That’s all we need today.