We got the call on a Friday. Three weeks and three days ago, we first heard about you. You had been born the Sunday before, and you needed a home. I spoke at length to the social worker, and it seemed so perfect. Everything you needed, we were. Everything your birth mom wanted, we were. Even down to your name, which your birth mom wanted you to keep. It was perfect. We were so happy. We so wanted to be your parents, and we thought we would be. We would leave the next day to come and get you. To bring you home.
Sunday night, we met you...what can I even say about that? Your birth mom is amazing, and you are precious, valuable, priceless.
Wednesday, we returned the dress.
Thursday we came home without you.
You weren’t our daughter, but we wish you were. I grieve not being your mama; I wanted to be. And I also grieve the loss of relationship with your birth mom. She loves you so much, and she's so special. I wanted to be in her life.
Adoption is such a mix of joy and grief. Right now, ours is the grief. Yours is the joy--and I hope for you that it is always true, that you grow up strong, joy-filled, loving, and loved.
This is one of the harder posts to publish. I have been sad...and I don't really want to put that "out there." I'd much rather keep it private. But I was reading posts by other people who had experienced failed adoptions, and was helped by them. So in an effort to somehow "not waste our failed adoption" (see John Piper's "Don't Waste Your Cancer", points 7 & 10), I figured I'd better share--to the glory of God and the comfort of others. This is a start, at least.