Sunday, August 19, 2012

Retreat! Retreat!

"How did you get here?"

I see that question on people's faces.

I hear it when they ask about foster care, adoption, if the thought never occurred to us!

I feel it in their silence.  

It is amazing how, in their desire for you to move on and get over what has happened to you, they miss how incredibly hard this whole thing has been. How we have searched and floundered for just the right answers - and how we have come to discover that there just aren't any.

I could recite facts and figures - the percentages the doctors gave us, the amount of money it would take to even consider adoption, the number of times we have researched and debated and  cried.

But, really, how can anyone understand - except those who have been there?

I do not even know how I became that woman. A woman haunted. Pitied by some and avoided by others. A woman whose presence creates an unease in others. 

Even I have asked myself, "how did we get here?".

I certainly did not plan this future when I met my husband at a summer BBQ ten years ago. The day I married him - clouds did not hang over the exchange of our vows ominously. And I could not fathom this being our reality the night Dancer was born and he placed her in my arms. As I unwrapped her swaddling to count her fingers and toes and as I held her to my breast...this was not my intention.

It has felt like a whirlwind, almost like we were caught up and buffeted by a force too powerful for us to conquer. The want and need for another child, the push and pull of the doctors and nurses, the hope.

Ours are not the only prayers being offered. Churches full of people have prayed, friends and family have pleaded with God just as we have. And the hope that God will intervene on our behalf still lives in my heart, even as I try to squash it.

Perhaps that is how we got here - a surfeit of hope.

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