Today is her birthday. She's 3. That makes a total of 3 birthdays we've spent apart since we first laid eyes on her. I cannot begin to describe to you the level of utter suckage (I don't care if that's not a real word) that entails. And I fully realize that some of you probably think we are crazy (love you, but we don't care). Others just don't really understand--both the process and/or the desire we have to wait. To be honest, it's not really a DESIRE to wait. Trust me, this is NOT the path I would've chosen myself. I truly get that there are other children out there needing a family, other little girls on "the list" waiting to find their forever homes. There are perfectly beautiful, needy children...waiting. The depth of that fact is not lost on me...at all. It wrecks me to the core of my being that I simply cannot bring every one of them home. Ask my husband--he knows I would if we could. He thinks I'm nuts in that arena, by the way. So it is not for one nanosecond lost on me that while we wait on THIS one, another one waits to be matched as well. I realize we could choose to shorten our wait. But it's not where we feel led.
The best way I can explain it is actually to give you a perspective I can only imagine myself, because it's one I've never truly been in. But in my heart, I believe it will give you the best picture of why we wait. It's the image of a birth mom, preparing to give her child up for someone else to raise. Now please hear me out--I HAVE NEVER WALKED THAT PATH so I cannot say with certainty that I know for one minute how it feels. This is simply the only example I can IMAGINE feels close to what our wait is like. I do not want, in any way shape or form, to diminish the depth of pain those moms go through. I know my pain is no where near what they feel, but it's the only way I can imagine it myself.
You see, from the very moment I laid eyes on her, she was my daughter. And every day that passes, a piece of me lives a half a world away, my heart walking around outside my body. We get updates and pictures...images of someone else raising our daughter. Someone else gets her cuddles, someone else gets her kisses. Someone else watched her first steps, someone else heard her first words. Another woman holds her when she cries, and kisses her boo-boos when she's hurt. SOMEONE ELSE IS RAISING OUR DAUGHTER. And that sucks. Every single day that sucks. Usually I keep myself busy--I mean, hello, we have four other kids! So most days, I'm not bombarded with a wealth of emotions I don't know how to handle. Most days I'm not a hot mess. Most days, I'm not completely on the verge of an emotional breakdown at any given second. But on this, her birthday, I am.
And I know God is in control. And I know He sees my pain. And I know He has a plan. And I know and I know and I know. But let's be real. Faith isn't always easy. It isn't always butterflies and rainbows and all those other loads of crap. I KNOW all the right things. I KNOW all of the truth. And trust me, I don't doubt for one minute if God has my best interests at heart. But some days are still hard. Some days I don't wanna get out of bed. Some days I wanna scream and punch somebody in the face. Some days I wanna give her government a piece of my mind--swear words and all. Most days I just want--FOR THE LOVE OF EVERYTHING HOLY--to get on freakin plane and go get our daughter.
For now we wait. We celebrate her life. We storm the gates of Heaven on our knees for our daughter. And we pray that someday, someday soon, we will celebrate together rather than apart...
That's where I am. Today.
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