A mother’s grieving heart

We got news this morning that no adoptive parent ever wants to hear.

As mentioned in my last post, birth mom had gone past her due date with no sign of baby, so we’ve just been waiting.

I had some pleasant text exchanges with her over the weekend, with nothing unusual. We knew she had a check-up with her doctor today and that if she hadn’t had the baby by today, they were going to schedule to induce.

At 9:15 PM last night, she texted me to say she’d message me after her doctor’s appointment scheduled for 11:00 AM today.

I busied myself this morning, but had my eye on the clock the whole time. I knew exactly when it turned 11:00. And then at 11:31, the phone rang. It was our caseworker.

She did not have good news.

Turns out birth mom delivered the baby last night. She can’t go through with the adoption, and she and the birth father have decided to parent.

We are not getting a baby.

At least not this baby we’ve been anticipating and preparing for.

Why couldn’t this birth mom have figured this out sooner? Add to that, we had to drag out the waiting well past her due date.

Only to have it end in heartbreak.

We struggled with fertility treatments for years. I had surgery. We did everything short of IVF to get pregnant, and the three times we did all ended in miscarriage. We’ve filled out mountains of paperwork and jumped through all the hoops to adopt – not once, but twice! – and thought we were in the home stretch. We were so close. SO CLOSE!!

Why so much heartbreak??

Why us? Why me?

2018-09-18 what cannot be saidI don’t even know what to say. All I can do is weep.

And everything around me is a reminder. This is why they warn you not to set up the nursery or have a shower… which I didn’t!

But the suitcase I’d packed for the hospital is still at the foot of my bed. The infant car seat is in the back of the car. A stack of newborn diapers is sitting on the kitchen island waiting to go in the diaper bag. I washed the newborn clothes and sterilized the bottles and made places for them in drawers and cabinets, to at least be a bit prepared.

I was picking up my son’s toys earlier today and came across the baby doll that a sweet friend had gifted him to practice being a big brother. We’ve already received a few baby gifts. The date my sister is coming out next month to help is already on the calendar.

Tomorrow is my son’s 3rd birthday, and all this time we’d been wondering and waiting to see if the boys were going to have to share a birthday. We didn’t plan a party for our little guy, because we didn’t know when to schedule it. And now there not only won’t be a party, there won’t be a second birthday to celebrate in September at all.

And so I weep some more.

I think about all the people we’ve told and now have to deliver this update to. And I feel silly and foolish. Like I should have known better. It was all too good to be true… another boy, born in the same season, right as Jeff’s current job is ending and leading to a break, and we didn’t have to travel out of state this time. We couldn’t have asked for better timing or for more things to work in our favor.

I hate it. I’m mad. I want to scream “IT’S NOT FAIR!!” Yet I also feel paralyzed and helpless and don’t know what to do.

Then I remind myself, that’s why I started this blog – to let people in on the journey of adoption. I just never imagined ours would take this turn.

So in response to the end of my last post, we got thrown back to square one. Where we’ll go from here, I don’t know yet.

For now… I grieve. My mother’s heart grieves for the child we do not have.

I grieve what might have been.

 

20 thoughts on “A mother’s grieving heart

  1. As a birth mother myself I know the pain you feel of not having that baby you’ve loved for so long. While I was on the other side of adoption, grief is grief. I am sorry for the grieving you are experiencing. Thank you for being open about this all. I’ll pray for you, for that baby that is so loved and for the birth parents. May God cover all of you.

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  2. As a birth mother myself I know the pain you feel of not having that baby you’ve loved for so long. While I was on the other side of adoption, grief is grief. I am sorry for the grieving you are experiencing. Thank you for being open about this all. I’ll pray for you, for that baby that is so loved and for the birth parents. May God cover all of you.

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  3. Dear one, my heart hurts for you. For you, your husband and your son. I have no words of wisdom to offer…and I’m quite sure they wouldn’t help now anyways. Right now you do what you must & that’s to grieve. Grieve for want could have been and what won’t be. But as your heart is breaking & you cry and grieve, know that our Most High God is holding you in His hands and carrying you through this difficult time. Know that you are loved by Him as well as your friends and family and if there comes a time where you find that you can’t pray, know that He hears your heart and that you are being lifted up by others around you.

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  4. The adoption journey is not for the faint of heart, that’s for sure! There are many of us that definitely understand pain of hard adoption circumstances. That doesn’t make yours any less significant – it makes it true that you are not alone. What a brave and courageous way to build a family.

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  5. I am grieving with you…angry for you, hurt for you, crying for you. Life is certainly not fair!!! So very, very sorry about this abrupt and rude change of mind. Lean on your friends and family for support. And bury your sadness in the Bible. That is all I can offer you, Jeff and Levi. And a big virtual hug from one who sees and knows you from afar.

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  6. I am so sorry. I have been searching for the right words of comfort but everything sounds wrong to my ear. It’s a terrible loss for you and your family and I am so sorry you have to endure it.

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  7. My precious one,
    I am comforted in that you are not only surrounded by gods loving arms, but a wonderful core of people. This cannot take away the pain but offers empathy and sympathy as we all love on you and walk the path with arms linked. Tears shed together are so sweet. I so love and respect you in every way. Pat DeYoung

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  8. Pingback: They LIED TO US | Our Family Ever After

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