We are getting close. And I cannot lie: it has been torture. We were matched with our sweet girl in September. September: before snow. When grass was still visible. Before the chaos of Christmas and the start of a new year. On September 28th (which by no coincidence is Michael's birthday), we saw her face for the first time and fell head over heels, and knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she is our girl. We were elated to say the least. The joy was palpable.
Fast forward: it's March. Too long. I want off the roller coaster. I have distracted myself (insert crazy woman redecorating her room), educated myself by reading every book I can get my hands on about attachment. I have prayed. I have cried. I have railed against the wait (bucked, kicked and stomped is no exaggeration). It didn't work. And I think I now have a small clue as to why.
I am beginning to see there is purpose in this struggle (insert God here with a big thought bubble reading "duh"). I have, (not unlike Dr. Suess' Grinch) felt my heart grow in size. This growth, this expansion, is directly connected to the suffering and grief and longing I have experienced in this crazy process. I know in my head that suffering serves as the catalyst for growth. I know this in theory. I have seen it play out in my own life and in others' lives. And yet, it seems that I had so much left to learn in this regard. It is difficult to express the incredible helplessness and pain associated with knowing and loving your child while simultaneously being totally blocked from demonstrating that love directly. It makes you kinda insane (my kids can attest to this). Ok, a lot insane.
So, instead, I choose to sit with that pain and loss. To hold it close until I can hold her close. To befriend it and welcome it. To let it do its work in me. I could NEVER have chosen this path. Never, ever picked waiting. And yet God knew it was good and right for me. Knew that my heart would grow. And in God's time, not my own, be stretched and expanded and ready to be filled with even more joy and more love for her. To be ready to help hold her loss, her suffering and her joy. I needed to make more room. So today, I am so grateful for the suffering. ***full permission granted to direct me here when you catch me bucking and flailing again.