Letting go and letting God
I got to talk to Sster today (I feel very very lucky for that — she’s wonderful) and we were talking about how on a journey to a child it can sometimes be hard to know, is that God talking? And if so, what the heck is he saying?
When we were talking about what to do next as far as infertility treatment, the line in the sand was very clear for us. IUI was as far as we would go, period. I had no doubts that it was time to stop. But what I didn’t know was whether I was going to stop and get a baby some other way or stop and have no baby at all. And I didn’t really know how to listen or how to untangle my wants/hopes from my needs.
Looking back, it all makes sense. Each epiphany comes through clear and shining. The time I watched Noah swing in perfect contentment while a nearby family romped with their son and daughter.
“That’s enough,” I thought. I knew it was all right for Noah to be an only child. I can remember that moment and conveniently forget when I revisited my ambivalence and worry for him not a week after that playdate.
When someone asked us if we shouldn’t be more proactive when we were waiting to adopt, I wondered if this was God talking. I started looking at waiting child photos. I wondered if our stipulations about health issues were reasonable. Did God want us to adopt a child with greater health concerns than we originally thought? Did God want us to take additional steps? Or we were supposed to continue waiting?
In hindsight I can see the perfect, gleaming path that led us to Madison. Everything that happened is illuminated by her presence now. But then it was so much harder to see.
Now I think that the way to hear that still, small voice is to take the path of proactive least resistance.
See, adoption isn’t easy and it’s not supposed to be. I’m not saying that. I’m saying that the hard parts may be hard but when you’re confronted with them, you pray about it, you close your eyes, you take a deep breath and you know that this way would be easier than this other way. It’s like if you come to a fork in the road and this way lies an abyss and this way lies thick bracken. You know that the bracken will be easier to hack your way through. You feel it give way as you struggle; you have a sense that what lies ahead will be worth the endeavor. You proactively move forward but you take the path of least resistance — bracken is easier to overcome than an abyss.
Likely it will all make sense afterwards and if you can trust that, it will be so much less painful to go through it now.
Hang in there, all of you waiting parents-to-be. One day you will look back and see the hidden radiance that is present in every step you’re taking. Have faith.
Wonderful post. But it’s hard! When I want things MY WAY RIGHT NOW it’s difficult to listen to God, and have patience …… and His voice tends to be drowned out by the bustle. I’m working on trying to quiet down to listen better.
Thanks, Dawn. These are the posts I bookmark and re-read on really bad days as a reminder. And what parent hasn’t, at the end of the day, said, “as hard as it was to get this kid, this - and no other kid - is obviously the one that’s ours”?
This made me cry. I lurk and read everyday and so often you say exactly what I am thinking and feeling but am unable to express.
Thank you.
Wonderful post, Dawn.
We hacked through a lot of brambles too, but I can also think of one time in our process, when Scott and I came to a fork in the road, saw the abyss, held on to each other….and jumped (with me digging my feet in and screaming aaaaaaahhhhhhh!). I was so scared. Either way I think it’s a question of trust and faith. I say that also looking back, because our life is illuminated now by beautiful Sam.
“Everything that happened is illuminated by her presence now. But then it was so much harder to see.”
Exactly. Yes.
Great post. Perfectly goes along with what I was trying to say the other day, in a much more long-winded rambling fashion (me, I mean, not you): when you are going through it, it’s so hard and awful and some days you just want to scream “WHY” at the heavens, and then you get to that point where you just know. And it’s still hard, but it’s also right. And you look back and wish you’d known that sooner.
mmm hm. yes. that’s exactly how it feels. while we were waiting for the india program to work itself out, which was more of an abyss for us, we also kept coming to a fork in the road, and, looking left, the abyss again. looking right, the bracken. so many, many times we insisted on continuing through the abyss when we knew that the bracken would be easier to handle. and one day we came upon the fork again, and just knew it was time to let the abyss go. and even though it was so hard, we still knew that changing paths was the right way for us. and now it’s all so clear how we came to zade. but they’re hard - those decisions - how does one choose between two somewhat impossible situations?
So right - brilliant post, Dawn!
Very well said - in fact, I’m bookmarking this page to show my husband.
Part of the problem, I think, is attaching too much meaning to random occurrences that look like omens. Three weeks ago today, our adoption fell through as we were preparing to leave to see our child. It was heartbreaking, and one small part of the heartbreak was trying to make sense of the situation when it had looked like this was the child God wanted us to have - the baby was even born on my brother’s birthday and the description of him was eerily like how my MIL describes my husband’s infancy. That, plus other things, made it seem like this adoption was meant to be. But it wasn’t, and as we learned more about the situation, we found that it hadn’t been as ideal as we’d thought.
We hope that once our journey is complete, the road will seem much clearer.