In Reverse

 This is not going to be pretty so brace yourself. 

That little girl that we spent 8 months preparing for isn't ours. I'll give you a minute to catch your breath.

Are you still with me? Good. Welcome back. This is the darker side of adoption. This is grief. Deep profound, wordless grief. Grief that takes your breath in jagged sobs. Grief that makes you rage with anger. That makes you try to bargain things out in your head in a desperate manner to make it "right". It's a mind numbing whirlwind. 

For 8 months we prayed and prepared for a little girl. We had a shower. We have beautiful handmade blankets and adorable dresses. We have bows and books. We also prepared for a birth mother who seemed so certain of this choice. She had placed children before. 

But then COVID came along. Our birth mother was alone in the hospital after a c-section with her baby. Her family drove her to the NICU after she got discharged. Then when the baby got discharged it went home with her, where her family changed her mind. My heart breaks for her. My heart hurts for this woman who is raising this little girl. What agony and turmoil she must have endured to make this decision. 

Surprised that I'm not angry? That I don't hate her? I can't. I can't be angry or hate filled toward this woman. I can't participate in that and still move forward. Anger or hate or resentment would just hurt me. I take that back. It would hurt my family. It would hurt all future adoptions. It would tarnish Josiah's view of adoption. 

Don't worry there's part of the grief cycle that includes anger and I have felt it, I just direct it towards the situation and not the person. 

It's what I imagine it would be like to have a still birth. I'm going home empty handed to a house filled with things for this little girl. Aaron compared the feeling to running. It's like training for a marathon to qualify for Boston and training really well. You travel to the race, people know you are hoping to qualify. Then at the last mile you pull a hamstring and you limp over the finish line 10 seconds late. 

Anytime there's a disaster, adults will tell children to look for the heroes. Look for the helpers. So yesterday after we fell apart we put ourselves back together by looking for heroes. They are everywhere and I can't identify all of them.

There were countless people who prayed. It was an embrace that held us together. 

My sister in law went to our house and gathered all the baby things and put them in the nursery and shut the door. She bought us groceries. 

My sweet Aunt Allyson offered to pay for a place in Savannah so we don't have to make the 11 hour drive home in one sweep. Our minds and bodies are weary. That hotel room is a place to heal before we have to come back and face everyone.

Our co-workers have all texted and emailed. 

The biggest heroes in this are the women who work in Adoptions.

Malia met with us yesterday at their office. I've only talked with her through email and on the phone. When I first talked to Malia, I looked at Aaron and said, "I want to work with that agency because of how she loves birth moms." Malia gave me the sweetest hug. A hug sounds so simple. But she saw our broken hearts and it was the simplest way to let me know that it's ok. A hug during a global pandemic is foreign. A hug from someone you've never seen face to face. We don't do that anymore. Human kindness in this moment was more important that germs. Malia listened. Malia gave us hope. We aren't done with adoption. Our baby just hasn't been found yet. 

Nichole. She had the hard job of being the birth mother advocate. While we didn't see her on this visit, we know this was hard on her. She did everything she could possibly do to make this work. If we could hug her right now we would. 

Lisa is working to find out where we are financially. All the money we raised went to agency fees and some of that will rollover to another placement. The living expenses that we paid out of our own pocket, that's gone. Lisa is working on helping us keep the grants we were just awarded. Once we know where we stand financially, we will know what kind of placement we can look for.

My favorite helper is Malinda. Malinda is my new best friend. My soul sister. My kindred spirit. Malinda was our family advocate but honestly, I could talk to her for hours. It's one of those things where you talk to someone you've never seen face to face and suddenly it's like you've known them forever. Her sense of humor is dark, her favorite tv shows are trash, and I love her with my whole heart. We can have an entire conversation in GIFs. 

So yesterday when she called me sobbing I had to put her back together. Her heart broke with ours. She worked so tirelessly with these women to make this happen. And it didn't happen. They all know what is at stake for adoptive families. When it falls apart, they take that home at night. 

But the best phrase I've heard through out this massive grief and heartache is this:

It will make sense in reverse. 

We are leaving the sweaty pit of Florida today with raw emotions but knowing there is hope. We are not done. When we look back on this, it will make sense. It will all come together. 

We will come home and when you hug us we will cry. We will break global pandemic rules. You will be sad with us. You will abide with us through this mess. You will be hopeful with us.  

And then one day, we will all look back and it will make perfect sense.