Sunday, September 29, 2013

Time Marches On

I've been avoiding my blog for the last couple months.  There's so much to put down, and so many emotions to sort through as I share our grief with friends and family.  So many highs and lows.  Pain, and anger combine with praise and thankfulness.  Throw in daily doses of normal life, that continues on and on, regardless of times I've just wanted it to stop and allow me to grieve and process.  But there is homework to do. Hair to style.  Dance class and teacher meetings and housework. Life goes on.

Two months ago, I felt it, for the first time.  A sincere, panicky, from the gut feeling that David, our son, wasn't going to be ours.  I had no reason to believe that things weren't still right on track, but I couldn't shake it, this ache in my heart that acknowledged that this beautiful boy wouldn't be ours.

And then came the phone call with our agency director, where she told me that David's mother had been found.  And more than that, she wanted to parent him.  And it was so, so hard.  Because as much as we wanted David to be ours, he got to go home!  To his mother, that loved him and wanted him.  Our agency took another couple of weeks, investigating, making sure that this was truly what his mother wanted.  And when official word came, we celebrated.  Because this is a beautiful story.  A story of God's grace and provision- an amazing story of reunion.  And David is reunited with his mama.  He is right where he belongs.  And for that, we are truly, sincerely happy for him.

But this has come at a cost for us, for our family.  There is loss, and grief, and anger, and sadness.  We've lost a son.  A brother. A grandson. A cousin. A nephew.  Emotions have been high. But when it comes down to it, there are so many kids in this world that don't have a family that wants to or can take care of them.  David is so blessed to be loved by two families.  And how amazing is that.

But less than two weeks following the loss of our son and my children's brother, we also had to put down my beloved dog, Molly.  She came into our home ten years ago, long before we had children.  And our family was left reeling at the loss of two very important members.  The losses were very different, but the double whammy has left this enormous ache in my chest.  It hurts.  And there's been moments where I've felt that I can't breathe.  That I've literally had to sit down and wait for it to pass, because I literally can't draw a breath, because my chest is so tight.

But time is passing, and the ache is subsiding, slowly but surely.  And our family is starting to move on.  My kids still talk about him, and how hard it is that he'll never come home to us.  But they're stabilizing, and the tears and tantrums and inappropriate reactions to small things are tapering off.

We're opening up to the possibility of a new referral, a new brother, a new son.  And I'm starting to feel hopeful again, because at the heart of things, David has a family.  And that's exactly what we wanted for him.  We've never wanted to take someone's child away- never been in the adoption process to fill our own void.  We want another child, but we also want to provide a family to a child that doesn't have a home.  And I CANNOT wish that David's mother had made a different choice.  Loving him, I want the very best for him, and I believe that that is his mother, who loves him very dearly.  And I am so, so very grateful that David is home with his mama.  Regardless of the cost to myself and my family, I am overwhelmingly grateful that he is home, exactly where he belongs.

1 comment:

  1. Jess, this is so raw and beautiful. Thank you posting this. We are concerned as so many families are about losing a referral, but I never thought about it from the perspective that they may get to GO HOME where they belong. What a great lesson to behold here. I can't imagine how difficult it is to walk that path, but I know that God provides and teaches us things along the way. You are in my thoughts and prayers.