Once more, I am at a birthday party for a two year old. The same child that
I threw a baby shower for a couple of years ago. Now this child is turning
two, and is gaining a sibling in a few months. I see the gifts, the family
members, the murmurs to the mom’s new pregnant belly. Everyone is
celebrating this stepping stone. It’s an act of moving forward. I feel like I’m
on the outside of this scene looking in like a Hallmark movie. But instead
of popcorn and Rocky Road, there’s just grief. I am once again, at a
milestone for someone else’s child while I am no closer to bringing my
own child home. Will it ever be my turn Lord?
Infertility is a valley of pain and beauty. It was my biggest fear and is now
my greatest teacher. We have walked a bumpy path of receiving news of
“you’ll most likely be a couple without children,” to “we’ve ended your
adoption contract.” Rocky Road indeed. We’re on a different path once
again, and carrying hope with scarred hearts and tender hands. We’re not
giving up.
It is an amazing honor to be able to adopt, but the pain of not giving birth
to the dream of biological children is a wound that doesn’t completely
heal. A scar that while beautiful in its own way, still stings. I remember
sitting in church Mother’s Day after Mother’s Day wondering, hoping and
sometimes just crying. I remember going to shower after shower smiling to
the expectant moms on the outside while screaming to God on the inside
about how it wasn’t fair that I was once again celebrating someone else’s
turn.
It has been a crazy ride.
I started reading a book this week called “The Lucky Few” by Heather
Avis. She talks about how we all grow up imagining these safe
circumstances where we have plans that keep us comfortable. But that’s
not where we grow is it? I know I have grown more spiritually and as a
human being through this experience than anything else in my life. I
wouldn’t trade it. Heather Avis has three adopted children and calls them
her wildflowers because in order to get to them she had to go off the
beaten path. I adore this metaphor. Adoption very much feels like going off
the beaten path. Sometimes it’s lonely and exhausting and Lord knows it
costs a fortune, but most of the time it’s amazing. We’re so grateful God
called us to this journey.
Our community through this journey has been vital. And we are so grateful
to have friends and family that has reminded us it’s ok to be sad, who have
cried with us and celebrated with us. Who have helped with all the
fundraisers and who has prayed for our future little one as much as we
have. We can’t wait to begin that chapter of our lives and welcome our
own sweet wildflower home.
If you know someone who is going through infertility, or maybe it’s the girl
in small group who winces every time people start talking about their kids,
reach out to her. Ask her if she wants to talk. If she doesn’t then leave it
alone, and if she does love on her. Be sensitive friends, those wounds are
deep. Don’t be offended when she doesn’t come to your shower; it’s not
to hurt you, it’s to protect her heart.
Sister in waiting, don’t lose hope. Don’t give up. Don’t allow the enemy to
steal all of your joy. Bring your pain to God, He can handle it, I promise.
Don’t isolate yourself. Your friends want to love you through this, and if
they don’t know how, show them. Be patient and don’t blame yourself.
Lean into Jesus and allow His grace to do what it does. Allow Him to heal
you and show you your own path full of wildflowers. I promise it’s worth it.
By Brittney Peters