Enlarging hearts

Enlarging hearts

For the past 3 weeks I have struggled to sit down and focus on writing a blog for someone on practical attachment strategies.  I am excited about this field.  I am passionate about this field.  Yet, I struggled.

It was only when journaling that I realised I didn’t want to be writing this for people, I wanted to be doing this with our own child.

A friend asked me recently how the wait was going.

I told her it was getting longer.

I had said that some mornings I wake up and think ‘it’s one day closer to THE day’, but my heart is wanting to start counting hours and not the days anymore.

The nappies are waiting for a body to be wrapped around.

The bottles are waiting to be used.

Our community is waiting for an excited & (I am anticipating!) overwhelmed, this is it message.

We are sitting with an increased awareness of the absence of the next person who is going to be a part of our family.

‘Your heart is enlarging and it’s a stretch and it’s a sweet pain’ was her response.

Oh.

I want to stamp my feet and ask how long will this continue.

Me – the planner, who for the last 5 years had been able to vision for the year ahead – even if the details weren’t fully known, there was some sense of this is where I was headed.

Now, we know that we will be parents to a small person.

We just have no concrete timelines.

Yesterday, a friend said to me you are in a long labour.

It’s not just about being pregnant anymore.

It’s about waiting to see that face for the first time.

In person.

It’s about meeting this small person who we are going to be honoured to parent.

I sighed a deep breath out.

Our hearts are enlarging.

Our hearts are enlarging and as much as we are relishing the late lie-ins and the spontaneous meals in the park, or walks, or doing what we feel like when we feel like, there is an increasing awareness that someone is not with us.

Our hearts are enlarging and we appreciate the well-meant ‘enjoy the season’, ‘make the most of each other’ and all the other comments, but I am struggling with the challenge in this season without any fixed timelines.

There is a real tension of being fully aware of the joy in the present (and there is much!) but the longing for what we are waiting for too.

Sometimes this longing is painful.

I knew that this would be a waiting thing.  I don’t enjoy waiting things generally.  I am someone who gets up and makes things happen.

And in this I can’t.

I can pray.

I can cry when it gets too much.

It helps – I guess like it has for many mothers whose pregnancies or labours have felt indefinite at times!

I can share this with safe people.

I can respond with ease when people ask how the wait is going.  It was liberating this past week to say to a friend who is on her own adoption journey, that the ‘enjoy just the two of you’ are getting frustrating. We really do enjoy just the two of us, but we are ready for it to be three of us too.

We have been dreaming of parenting through adoption since before we got married.

In December we decided to start our process in the first part of this year.

In April we had our first adoption screening interview.

Our hearts are being enlarged.

We wait.

[p.s. I  finally did finish the other blog – Head over to the heartmamablog.co.za for more info :)] 

Advertisements

The Wait

Post #worldadoptionday conversations

Monday was our 2nd wedding anniversary.  I can’t believe that it’s been 24 months to the day since we chose each other – to dream and do life with, but also to wrestle the rough edges off of the other and to see healing come in the parts that only heal in relationship.  It was also a day for me that I thought would be a good day to get the CALL despite knowing that it wasn’t likely to happen.  It’s okay to dream dreams too.

We are in the waiting season familiar to most adoptive parents known as waiting for THE CALL.

The call that only comes from our social workers when there is a child who we potentially could be the right match for.

The call that only comes once there is no chance of things not being possible.

The call that social workers for the child, birth mom and prospective parents are working towards and yet no one can talk about anything with the prospective parents until the time is right for the call.

The call that means there is a wait.

A wait while you start to nest (and wash nappies) and prepare for a child who you aren’t sure about in terms of preferences, sizes or sleeping habits.  (On receiving the call some of this is clarified a little, but how many of us on paper reveal the fullness of who we are in person).

A wait in which dreams of babies and bedrooms and nappies and what will our future small look like happen.

I catch myself occasionally looking around at people and wondering whether our small grow up with your build, or your eyes, or your skin tone?  I know that it won’t be mine, so I am curious to discover what the unique blend of birth/ first parents has created.

A wait in which I wish for, and am grateful for, our immediate circles of family and friends being mindful of the bitter-sweetness of the adoption process so that when our small arrives, their immediate world is one which honours the duality of space from before as well as the now and the looking ahead.

A wait in which grandparents are picking up books and learning from adult transracial adoptees what it means to be adopted and asking questions around this in order to better love their next grandchild.

IMG_20151108_201056

A wait in which future cousins and children in our community are asking questions or figuring things out about the future arrival.

A wait in which friends have been excited for us and asking questions.

A wait which until this week felt helpful in transitioning.  Helpful in preparing us as a couple to be pressing into the space of us.  Until this week when it was a lot of just us and now we are increasingly becoming aware of the space that we have created and are waiting for the small one to be the next one of us.

A wait in which I pray our small person comes home sooner rather than later so that the gap, grief and loss between saying farewell to a birth family and hello to the adoptive family isn’t longer than it absolutely needs to be.

A wait in which my heart is beginning to labour more.  Another adopted mom said to me:

We were always excited for our children to come home, but then one day the excitement turned to a yearning.

When she first said this to me, the excitement resonated.

Today the yearning is.

We wait.