Thursday, August 29, 2013

what now?

today i googled "how to move on after a failed adoption."
that's where i am, staring down those words on my computer screen... failed adoption.
i am struggling to move on, to move forward, to figure out...what now?

i still have adoption in my heart.
this is a fact.
i have contacted an agency that deals with another country.
i have reviewed several files, wide-eyed and with as much of an open heart that i can muster.
i took my time, prayed hard, and still felt like i couldn't breathe while trying to imagine these children in our family.
i'm not ready for that.
i'm not ready just yet.

i would give anything, ANYthing, to be able to adopt davis.
this is a fact too.
if i ever had a doubt before, if i ever, even once, second-guessed whether we could do it, if he would fit, if pursuing him was the best thing for our family, i can tell you confidently that those thoughts never had a chance.
john and i love him as our own child, as if he was formed in my womb, and born into our family.
he is perfect.
he is beautiful.
he is worth everything.

and i can also reaffirm that the Lord was with us every step of the way.
i never, as long as i have lived, never, have felt as close to God as i did sitting in a little orphanage in a remote part of russia, holding my lonely, scared child.
He was there with me.
and Happiness and Love and Joy and Hope were there too.
it was an experience filled with beauty, one that i will never forget, for all of my days.

so if things were so right and i was willing to do whatever it took, what happened?
why didn't things go the way we expected or hoped?
i don't think that's something we will ever know.
how long do you wait until you say "ok, i have to stop making this the center of my life. i did all you could.  this isn't my fault.  i did it all.  i have to keep living.  move on, already!"??
i wish i knew the answer.
this is way more complicated than i could have ever imagined.
love is a messy, complex thing.

i have days of semi-normalcy and nights of worry.
i have moments when i feel helpless and moments when i feel angry.
but mostly, i'm just sad.
and maybe it's not just sad for me--although there have been some epic pity-parties, let me tell you--
i'm sad for davis, for sergey, for isaac, for elden, for anya, for artem, for all of the thousands of children who have no choice and no chance.
i'm sad for the politicians who don't care, who never did and never will; for the other families who were in this fight beside me who are hurting too.

i'm letting this post get away from me.
i really wrote this post because i wanted to say thank you.
thank you for donating to our fund, for blogging about our boy, for checking in on us and for offering words of encouragement throughout these long two (almost three) years.
thank you for praying for us and for keeping davis in your thoughts and prayers.
thank you for listening to me rant about russians and orphans and down syndrome and adoption and all kinds of uncomfortable stuff.
thank you for EVERYthing.
i love and appreciate each one of you.

we are taking things slow.
we are working through all of this and treading ever so carefully towards a new normal.
our God is still here, as He always is, comforting us and loving us.
we are healing.


Anonymous said...

I am so sorry. I don't know what to say. Other then I am sorry but inspired by your bravery. There are so many things in my life that I don't understand. I guess we all encounter those things; may we lift each other up as we go through them. My heart is with you. And thanks again for also being brave enough to share.

Colleen said...

this breaks my heart! I am so sorry for all of you and most of all for Davis as he should be with you. Thinking of you!

Anonymous said...

Thank you for sharing this Amy. I think of you often and all the families in process. My situation is so different but I think about if I had contributed more, much more, and sooner, could Elden have made it out. Why didn't I? He looks so sad to me in the picture updated this month. I still have some hope but it's just a flicker now. Bless you. I look forward to hearing if you take steps toward another adoption.

Kate Eschbach said...

I'm sobbing for you right now. I'm sobbing for Davis. I love you to pieces and just wish I could give you a huge hug.

Your faith is an inspiration to me. You heart for Davis and our Savior are truly beautiful.

meg duerksen said...

i wish it wasn't like this. i know you wish it a thousand times more.

Kelly said...

I hate this so much for you. Resist the urge to wonder why you can't move on. The Lord placed this child in your heart and you have lost the hope of parenting him. You are mourning the loss of a child, Amy. Don't let anyone sell that short.

You're in my prayers.

Megan O. said...

I am a friend of Jaime's who has followed your blog while following their story as well. This whole process has been such a roller coaster ride of emotions and I am so, so sorry it ended this way. I can't imagine what you tell yourself when things haven't worked out the way it seemed they were supposed to. Thank you for your bravery and your honesty in sharing your heart. Praying for you and Davis right now.

{cuppakim} said...

Amy. Read this when you first posted, and held off on commenting - because I have no words. My heart hurts for your family, including Davis. I continue to pray for all of you guys, and that someday the doors might open. And most importantly that you will all have peace no matter what the outcome. I know for a fact I will get to squeeze him one day, either on earth, or when we're all with Jesus. Can't wait! Love you friend!