This journey about adoption is in its infancy. My husband and I haven’t even yet decided for sure that we want to adopt, but I do believe the Lord has a hand in our considering the option.
We have a beautiful daughter who is really our miracle child. Born nearly five weeks early, she was as healthy as a preemie could be. It’s been nearly ten years since her birth, and in that time we have tried unsuccessfully to have another child.
The problem was never my husband — it was me. Unable to cope with debilitating nausea, I retreated to my bedroom full of depression and despondency. Sleep deprivation got the best of me; I’d fall into a light sleep only to be awakened by another wave of severe nausea. And on and on it went from the day I conceived until the day the Lord took that baby up to heaven. I remember thinking at the time that the Lord must have looked upon my pitiful condition — at that point, I was hospitalized because I’d lost too much weight — and decided that he needed me around a bit longer. The miscarriage felt like a miscarriage of justice, and I felt a mixture of relief and rage…relief that I could eat again, and rage that I’d been through so much agony…for a baby I never got to hold in my arms.
But the Lord holds him today.
Looking back, I can see that I lived through a definite refining process, but not all of my impurities came out through that fire. I lived in fear of the same thing happening again. For four years I determined I would not get pregnant again. I turned my back on my husband’s desire for a bigger family because I was so hurt and traumatized from the experience.
But then the desire to hold a baby once again took hold of me, and we tried to have another baby. Several years later when we did conceive, we once again experienced extreme loss. This time, the Lord was merciful to my body and swept that baby up into heaven before extreme nausea set in. But the loss felt more profound this time around…my little girl was eight, and I wasn’t getting any younger.
The doctors told me I have a blood clotting condition that probably contributed to the miscarriages. The presence of anticardiolipin antibodies in my system means that a future pregnancy would put me at risk for dangerous blood clots and/or strokes and would require me to get daily shots of a blood thinner to prevent miscarriage and blood clots.
So then my thoughts and prayers turned towards a different door, one that I’d often pondered but never thought would happen…adoption.
In some ways I feel that I’ve turned the corner on motherhood. My child is nearly ten and is extremely self sufficient. We left diapers and bibs behind a long time ago. And yet…I can see myself walking through that door again. First words, first teeth, first steps, first haircut, first everything, all over again. How would my only-child adjust to suddenly having to share me? Would the age difference be a widening gulf, one so wide that it would prevent her and her sister or brother from ever becoming close? Would a new baby drive a wedge in our marriage if we aren’t both 100% on board?
I don’t know the answers to my questions, but God does. In a little over a week my husband and I will attend a workshop about adoption, and it is my prayer that the Lord will show us a glaring sign or at least an unmistakable whisper in our hearts, telling us the way to go.