I have been struggling lately with my “paper pregnancy.” My spirit feels just as bloated and overwhelmed as my body did during the final weeks of it’s three previous physical pregnancies. I long for the days where I knew that my infant was safe in my womb. Nights where I could lay in bed and stare in wonder at my enormous belly as a new life wiggled and pushed from the inside. Protected. Loved. Anticipated.
Today I humbly share that the process of adoption is straining. My spirit feels heavy, bogged down. My faith is often shaken at how helpless I feel. My heart desperately longs for the ability to just sweep my daughter up and place her in my giant imaginary womb, where I know she is safe. I find myself grieving heavily for the losses that she will have to experience in order to become my child. I weep for her orphanage family and for the trauma that is about wreck everything she knows.
As I watch her videos and memorize her pictures, I can’t help but to think about the woman who carried her. Who’s weighted body lay uncomfortable in her bed at night wondering about her child. The woman who labored and cried and hoped for the child that I call daughter. I am sure that she never imagined that one day she would put her child on a street corner and walk away.
Adoption is both beautiful and troubling. It is both sacred and broken. It is the most amazing yet heartbreaking experience of my life. It is nothing like I imagined.
As we get closer to having her in our arms, I can’t help but think about Psalm 139. This scripture has brought me so much comfort during my pregnancies and now brings me hope for my daughter.
Even though I did not carry her, I can hold steadfast in the knowledge that she is fearfully and wonderfully made. That she is loved by a God that created her, that numbered all of her days.
She is beautiful. She is perfect. She is wanted.
Believing in his wonderful works during this final week of anticipation. Praying for an increase in my faith as we prepare for our union as a family.
For You formed my inward parts;
You wove me in my mother’s womb
I will give thanks to You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
Wonderful are Your works,
And my soul knows it very well.
My frame was not hidden from You,
When I was made in secret,
And skillfully wrought in the depths of the earth;
Your eyes have seen my unformed substance;
And in Your book were all written
The days that were ordained for me,
When as yet there was not one of them.