Grieving
This week I have been grieving. I have
pretended not to, tried to ignore it, tried to talk myself out of it. Nothing
is working. Suddenly movies I normally would be completely unaffected by grate
on my nerves like fingernails on chalkboard; movies about couples having babies;
movies about couples being pregnant.
I know this time of year is coming. I never
forget the dates. They have added up over the year. My surgery on Good Friday
and my release from the hospital on Easter Sunday ultimately brought a diagnosis
of infertility. Yesterday, Bella’s half sister turned two. Today, Lili turned
four. A few weeks from now on April 12th, Ethan turns 6. All failed
placements. All hopeful adoptions to be that didn’t end up as we hoped.
I don’t believe in coincidences, but even if I
did, I would say these events this close together can’t be a coincidence. Really,
what are the chances that two of the completely unrelated and much loved
children we hoped to adopt would be born almost to the day within two years of
each other? That my surgery was Easter weekend, a time where we remember the
day that contained the greatest sorrow there ever was that made the most joy
possible? That brought life from death? That allows God to offer the free
gift of life and hope to all through Christ? What’s seems ironic to me now is
every year we went through this journey, with every new event, I was hopeful
God would “redeem” this sad time with a joyful event. Instead the losses just
added up. First Ethan, then Lili, then Angel.
But I guess I am still always so surprised that
it hits me this hard. With two beautiful kids that are all I could ask for,
whom I love with all of my heart, why am I still grieving children lost to me
that are still alive? Why am I still grieving my infertility? I guess because I
am always reminded of loss. Adoption always includes loss. It includes the loss
deeply felt by the birthmom. I am forever grateful to our birthmoms for their
sacrificial love, but because of how events turned out with Lili and her birthmom,
I know a teeny bit of the reality of the loss they face, the grief they feel. It
also includes my loss of fertility. It includes the three failed placements
during adoption before we ended up with our kiddos. We were blessed to see
Nicolas’ birth grandparents a few weeks ago. We are so grateful they remain in
contact, as well as his birthmom. But this reminds me that someday not too long
from now, Bella will start to feel her loss of her birthmom who has not stayed
in touch. Maybe that is what Bella's birthmom needs to do to deal with her loss, too. It seems like it is one full circle – there are so many losses. In the middle of joy and
delight and a full heart of gratefulness for God’s timing and provision that He
said – These two. These two little ones are the EXACT ones I have for you –
there is still loss. The losses were real. They still are real. The losses of
the failed placements were like deaths of children to me. Heart miscarriages. I
loved and carried a child in my heart that I no longer have in my arms.
Is it okay to grieve? I ask myself. I have so
many blessings. I am really so grateful for where we are at, and I can’t
imagine life without Bella and Nicolas. There are so many other losses. Bigger
losses, dare I say? But why do I have to qualify them? A loss is a loss. And
comparison only brings harm. Why would I ever compare my loss with someone
else’s? What purpose would that accomplish?
It is okay to grieve. It is okay to, in the
exact same moment, thank God for all He has given and grieve all He has allowed
to be taken away. It’s hard. It’s not natural. We like one side or the other.
But it’s possible and even good to do both. At the same time.
So, I am going to stay there. Not fully
understanding how my body grieves so deeply and remembers so strongly (even
when I pretend I don’t). Not having to make it all better, to tie it in a
pretty bow. Not having to have others understand (though that’s nice). I am
rejoicing and I am grieving.
I think one of the hardest things I have had to deal with in my life is loss. I have never dealt with it in the extent you have, but the pain, the grief is very real. Very painful. But there were some key phrases in your blog: "at the same time", "I can still", "God allows", "trust". God is good, God is kind. His plans are the best for us. And even though we don't understand, we trust. We thank Him for what He is doing through it all, even though we don't see the full picture. And in some small way, we identify with Jesus, with the loss He suffered. His human side suffered incredible loss--a future on earth, abandonment by his closest friends, betrayal, social standing, etc. And he suffered incredible loss even though He was also deity--he now knew sin because he took ours upon himself, God forsook him at the most difficult time, allowing him to pay the greatest price that sin demands--complete separation from the Father. Somehow, when I think of what Christ did for me, I can handle it a little better. It doesn't make it any less painful. But I know who holds me and I know who is walking with me along the way. You are also surrounded by the love of a husband and children, friends and family who grieve with you. You are not alone, nor will you ever be. I love you, dear friend.
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