Good Bye 9 Months of Work!

It seems fitting. That our dossier took 9 months to complete. Just like pregnancy (I can say it, I've done both, people) it is a true labor of love. It's tossing and turning. Sleepless nights. It's aching, not so much from a kid kicking your ribs but from sitting for hours and hours, with piles of paperwork. It's studying, and more studying, and more studying just to be reminded that you know nothing but words. It's emotional, like really really emotional, there is so much to lose, so much can happen, so much can go on. You don't want to get your hopes up, things happen, pregnancy and adoption are scary things. The kind of scary you have to put on a brave face for daily. Because it's also beautiful and powerful, and real communion with God. It's the kind of scary that makes that moment when you are finally family so much more worth it. Even if it's ugly, even if it's painful, even if it's hard and you live with the constant knowledge that you simultaneously have no clue what you're doing and yet know exactly why and how beautiful it is... When I found out I was pregnant with Connor, I was shocked, and scared-happy. Neither of my living kids were planned. But at 6 weeks when we thought that little blob on the ultrasound had amounted to all he would here on this earth, I died a little inside. That week was excruciating as I sat there and played it cool. It's ok, we didn't plan this, things happen, there's still a chance. At 7 weeks when we saw a heartbeat I was filled with a feeling I still don't have words for. I guess that was the day I met myself for the first time as mom, and I had a sense of purpose deeper than anything I had ever felt before. Half momma bear, half shockingly vulnerable. Throughout that high risk pregnancy there were ups and downs the size of mountains. Some we never shared, some our whole church prayed for. And that moment when that slimy little baby was placed next to my cheek... Nothing could tell me there wasn't good in the world. Nothing will ever be able to prove to me there isn't God. I say this to relate. The ups and downs, uncertainty and struggle, joy and pain. It's all familiar and all present in this adoption. Adoption is different too, and in the world's eyes. Adoption can be messier. Adoption comes with stuff you don't see or touch or know, but still have to deal with and get through. Because adoption is born out of trauma. Trauma is painful, and unfair, and the ugliest parts of this world. Through this is only one pin prick of light shining, and it's called hope. Hope for a future, hope for an end to the line of turmoil, hope for healing. Just like anything, I'm not ready for this. But bring it on. Because I have hope enough for all of us, His name is Jesus, and his work on us is so hard but so perfect.