Losing a child I never really had

Today is hard.

Today I could be meeting my baby boy.

 

But I'm not.

My heart has been a breath away from spilling over and emptying all day. There are things to be done, little people to attend to and that keeps me busy. But in the lulls, and the short moments I'm alone in a room, I mourn this deep loss. The loss of a baby that was never really mine. It's so confusing, and that makes it even harder.

We've all seen the amazing, beautiful, and sometimes miraculous adoption announcement photos. How could you not love them? Heck, we have sent out three different adoption announcements and have walls full of them which I cherish deeply.

But often behind many of those photos are the echoes and shadows of could-have-been children. The birth mom who did not chose the family, the birth mom who decided to parent, the failed match for whatever reason, the baby returned to the birth family after coming home with the adoptive family, so many ways and reasons.

It's heartbreaking. Shattering. Losing a child you never really had. It's not something you prepare for when starting out on this adoption journey, but there it is. We are in the midst of this unexpected match, and unexpected loss.

For me, I remember nearly every phone call or email. I remember the baby from Florida who was born in July. The baby in California born in May. I remember the baby girl in Oklahoma who was perfectly perfect for us, except for the red tape in the way.

But mostly I remember the baby boy in Ohio. We packed. We were ready to book plane tickets. We called everyone to tell them the news. Then...complications, medical bills, too many unknowns that the agency put it all on hold.

And now, I remember today. Or rather, Monday. An unexpected call in the morning that set our usual quiet day into a flurry of crazy and hope and joy and thrill!. A baby boy in Oklahoma. Fresh and new, ready and waiting. I caught my breath.

We don't even have our home study updated. It was through a connection of a friend that our names were specifically mentioned. And that is the power of adoption. Once you are in, you are in. It's as if a banner raised above the adoption offices all over the country “They are ready again!” And our names are whispered, and our phone is ringing.

It was crazy. It was perfect. It was even going to be this amazing, incredible story of how God moves and works through adoption.

And we flew into Update Mode. All the forms, all the paper work, bank statements, medical cards, travel plans, finances ready to go, family medical forms, finger prints and background checks. Papers strewn all over the floor, a pots of coffee drank and another brewing. There was so much to do and we had two days to do it. But it was possible. So we moved. Nonstop. There was no time to breath and soak it in.

Until about 1 am when we sat down in the quiet of the night, kids asleep, and Christmas lights twinkling. We sighed deep and locked eyes. And we knew.

Someone had told me “You will know if this is your baby and then you will do everything you need to.” And the thing is...no matter how great it all looked on paper, I couldn't shake the feeling that this was not my child.

This baby belonged to someone else.

We looked at each other and we both knew. Despite how perfect it seemed God was calling us in a different direction. God had another plan for us, another plan for this baby. And no matter how hard it hurts, how impossible it felt, no matter how shattered my heart would be – we had to say no.

It was perfect, he was perfect, and we had to say no.

I know that there are some people who will think this was the stupidest decision we could have ever made. And I honestly have that same fear deep down too. There was a baby, already born, with placement fees in our ideal range, and we were literally the only possible family in the entire country. A baby placed in our laps and we said no.

And for the next few days I will be living with this sudden ghost of what could have been. A constant daydream of the other. I'm changing a diaper at 9 am We would be getting to the agency office. I'm getting snacks at 10 am. We would be meeting the baby, meeting the birth mom. I'm making lunch. We would be discharged from the hospital and heading to the hotel. I'm kissing my kids goodnight and giving last cuddles.  We would be snuggling one more - a little newborn. It's terrible and I feel defeated in so many ways. And tired. But at the same time there is a peace that hovers above and swirls around all these things and thoughts.

The thing is, when we decided yet again to grow our family through adoption, we surrendered the journey to God's best plan. We might not ever understand it all, but we can trust it is best. It might not look how we want, but we can know He will do far better than we can imagine.

So even though my emotions are being continually tossed between peace at our decision and deep regret wanting to pick up the phone and call all the people and change our minds, to back peddle as fast as light, I trust that God is unchanging and faithful and knows what He is doing. So I don't have to know it all, justify it all, understand it all.

Even though my heart is breaking every minute, and I will mourn the loss of this baby for a long time, I know the Father holds my heart in His hands with love and promise to finish what He began in us.

And to you, dear friend, I'm praying for peace and wisdom for you. Maybe you are exactly where we are -- mourning a could-have-been child. Maybe you are choosing between two perfectly good options. Maybe someone is choosing for you -- a birthmom saying no, a college application denied, worked out plans derailed...Whatever it is, please know we serve and are loved by a God who is bigger. A Father who promises to finish the good work He started in you, and to do immeasurably more than all we can ask or even imagine. We are loved by a God who spoke heaven and earth into existence and cares about every detail. Even though it may look and feel like things are falling apart, we can trust that the Lord is with us. He goes before us, he stands beside us -- in all things: the joyful, the heartbreaking, the unexpected and wearisome. And He has amazing things in store for us if we hold on for the ride, even when we're white-knuckled and confused.