This disappointment-- can I even call it a disappointment? I mean, a girl who needed a permanent home got one. That’s good, right? It feels selfish, and sort of childish to say, “But I wanted them to choose us.”
But, really, I did.
Here’s the thing about our adoption process. We are considered non-typical, I suppose. We are not coming to the adoption process because we can’t have biological children. We haven’t had any fertility issues. We just kept thinking, “Are we going to have a third child? Does that child need to be biological?” Our answer was no. We’d like to grow our family through adoption.
Since Andy and I got married we talked about adoption. “Maybe someday” was the refrain. Sometime last year our “someday” became a plan of action. We made the calls, got the information and started the process. We decided that private infant adoption would be the direction we would go. Our home study was completed in April.
We’ve been waiting since then.
Listen to me: I know that some families wait for years. I know that some families have been praying for a child that is living in an orphanage across an ocean. I know that couples have wept over infertility and come to adoption weary. That just isn’t part of our story. I am not complaining about the waiting, I am doing a lot of thinking in waiting. Instead of daydreaming about a new baby, I find myself wondering about children who need homes right now. I weep over children who need families. My heart aches for children who grow up feeling “less than” because they’ve been thrown into a system that turns their lives upside down again and again.
We are waiting. And, out there, kids are waiting. There are kids in our country that are waiting to be adopted. I’m struggling with this, friends. We have two small-ish boys in our home. Most kids waiting to be adopted are 8 and older. I’m not sure what that looks like. How can you merge a family like that? It seems big and overwhelming and so, so hard.
But I can’t shake the heart ache for those kids. I imagine a giant hospital waiting room. I smell the burned coffee. I can feel the stiff vinyl chairs. Here we are, waiting for an infant, along with lots of other parents. Sitting among us are a bunch of kids. Kids who are waiting, too. Waiting for a family to claim them and welcome them home. We sit in silence, not making eye contact. Waiting.
I realize I’m simplifying this whole thing. I'm not so naive; I know it’s complicated and difficult. But I wonder if “complicated” and “difficult” have been good excuses for me to not consider something. I’m just reflecting. I believe that God put adoption on our family’s heart. Now, in the waiting, I’m praying for more wisdom to discern what that might mean for us. I’d appreciate your prayers, as well.
Also… these two films have touched my heart deeply about what it means to be foster care.
The films are incredibly well done and the story that's told is worth your time.