Waaaait For It.....

Adoption has kinda become our family’s identity here of late.  We no longer get introduced as “David and Laura”, but instead as “our friends who are adopting from Ethiopia!”  And that is an honor, don’t get me wrong, but it also opens the door for all sorts of adoption sympathizing.  Like the “I have a friend of a friend who adopted from Russia and their kid was seriously traumatized.”  Or “Oh, my cousin adopted within the US and they got a baby in 3 months!”  I realize people are just trying to identify somehow with our family, to create a common ground, but random adoption stories are rarely helpful.  Example: When I was pregnant with Elijah, absolutely EVERY mother within 3 miles of my home and workplace wanted to tell me *her* birth story.  And (having now endured my own labor and delivery) I get it.  Birthing a kid should earn you a badge of honor, it’s a big deal.  But each birth is different and simply because a person in a similar situation had a certain experience-doesn’t mean that it will replicate itself perfectly in your life.  I wasn’t thinking back on all those women’s stories while I was breathing through my contractions.  Heck, no.  I was too busy creating my own story (and trying not to murder my doctor).  You see, every birth is unique to that individual and family like every adoption is singular and unique for each different family.

Me, post labor.  I actually don't think I was coherent enough to murder anyone ;).

  

All that to say, I don’t bat an eye when people tell me their “weird but true” adoption stories anymore.  At church the other week, a friend introduced me to someone as part of “the family who is adopting from Ethiopia.”  And this person’s response was something along the lines of, “We have friends adopting from Ethiopia; they’ve been waiting YEARS now.  You must always be worried they are going to close the country for adoptions.”  Wow.  Ripped straight from the pages of “The Worst Things to Say to Adoptive Parents.”  I looked at her and all her kids hanging off of her and had this moment of wanting to respond as bad Laura: “Yeah and you have all these kids, you must always be worried one of them is going to step out into traffic.”  But Jesus prevailed and instead I said in a small voice, “Yep, it’s really hard.”

Because the ONE thing you can *never* accurately express to outsiders is the agony of the wait.  Especially waiting for an unknown (but much hoped and prayed for) outcome, when the future is uncertain.  It has been the hardest mountain this family has had to climb….and the end is nowhere in sight.

But recently, after much thinking about this specific kind of wait, I’ve been granted a little enlightenment.  It came through the discovery that waiting without certainty isn’t a burden borne by adoptive families alone.  Unfortunately, it is more common than you think.

Illness, Diagnosis, Treatment:

I lumped all these together, although I recognize each topic has its own distinctive cross to bear.  Because when your waiting has a health element tied in, it adds even more stress to the top of that crappy cake.  I had a light scuffle with this category the other week.  During a routine physical (required by adoption paperwork updates), a doctor discovered what she thought to be a “fatty tumor” located just under my ribcage.  Saying that to me, an acknowledged hypochondriac, was like a death sentence.  And having to wait until the following day to get “the mass” ultrasounded was torture.  I had already imagined 30 different scenarios of this ending badly, mostly ones of me with ribcage cancer and of David adopting our daughter as a handsome widower (that second one sounds like a good premise for a Hallmark movie).  Turns out it was nothing (or as the ultrasound tech discreetly told me, “Um, you have no mass.  You’re little, maybe the doctor felt your intestine digesting some food.”  Ewww, but okay-I can live with that).  As I said, this was a “light” experience.  But that day and a half was awful for me.  Which really gave me some perspective regarding my family and friends going through things of this nature.  Waiting to see if the chemo worked this time.  Wondering if the doctor will ever be able to correctly diagnose their symptoms or (even worse) their child’s symptoms.  Hoping that medicine will one day provide a cure for this brutal disease.  Jesus, give them strength.

Being Single:

After the last topic, this one seems significantly less substantial.  But I assure you, heaviness of the heart *can* affect someone like a disease.  The not KNOWING is the worst.  Friends and family members all chime in to offer “help” (Insert eye roll here) or ask you great questions like, “So, why aren’t you married yet?”  To which, my favorite answer is that of Bridget Jones (from the novel “Bridget Jones’ Diary”) who asserts single people remain so because “underneath our clothes our entire bodies are covered in scales.”  For those who yearn for marriage and a family (we’re clearly not including George Clooney here), being surrounded by friends who are experiencing *just that* is a special kind of hell.

Infertility:

The reason I chose to follow “being single” with “infertility” is because of 2 striking similarities.  1. The struggle of not KNOWING (if pregnancy will ever happen).  And 2. The pain of being surrounded by friends and family who are living the dream (and easily multiplying like rabbits).  Not to mention the knowledge that unplanned and unwanted pregnancies happen by the thousands (millions?) every day.  That women (under pressures and challenges unknown to us) choose to terminate a life you would die to carry.  I have a little background in this category, having both worked at a Pregnancy Center and also having dealt with infertility for 4+ years now.  And yes, we have Elijah.  And yes, we are adopting.  I am beyond grateful for both of those things.  But they don’t eliminate the ache in my soul, the desire for another pregnancy.  I’m sure childless couples will look at me (lucky to have a son) as I looked at a couple (lucky to have twins) we connected with during our fertility treatments.  I remember responding to an email from the wife by saying, “I’m so sorry, but I don’t think I can continue corresponding with you.  It is too hard to be in touch with someone who already knows the end of their story, whose fertility efforts were granted with twins.”  Her brief email back just said, “I hope that our twins aren’t the end of our story.  We still long for another pregnancy (Yes, I was hating my jerky self at this point).”  We are in no place to judge another families’ desires.  What sounds selfish or crazy to us (Um, is it 19 kids and Counting?) could be the fulfillment or expression of their own heart’s ache.

Financial Difficulties:

This one is SO all consuming.  After David finished his master’s degree (which coincided almost perfectly with the birth of Elijah), he couldn’t find ANYWHERE that wanted to hire his smarty, social working self.  3 months later my maternity leave was over.  Seeing no other options, I headed back to full time work and David became the stay at home Dad.  Obviously, NOT our plan.  And this season of marriage was one of the most treacherous times we’ve weathered as a couple, ranking up there with our struggle with infertility and now the adoption process.  But why is it so tough?  Because our culture has us tricked into believing our “worth” is tied directly to our finances.  Guys feeling pressure to be the unwavering support for their family, the breadwinner.  Not that this is all bad, providing for family is a good, worthy goal.  But subscribe too much to unrealistic cultural (or personal) expectations and I guarantee that wading (and waiting) through financial hardships WILL make you feel like a failure.  As our pastor wisely said, “So often we view ‘failure’ as the world around us sees it.  Instead we should view it as God does; the only ‘failure’ is disobedience to Him.”  Strive to be faithful through difficulty; THIS is the kind of testimony that speaks volumes.

This looks like the OPPOSITE of failure to me!

Military Deployments:

We could never express enough gratitude towards the families in this category.  I can also freely admit that I am thankful we are not part of this category (although one of my best friends is).  I’m the mom who wanted to mark Elijah as a “Quaker” immediately after birth, so he could never enlist.  I cannot begin to imagine the constant stress, worry, and fear involved in this kind of waiting.  But really, even after families are reunited, the waiting isn’t over.  The transition back to “normal” is perhaps a more difficult wait for many military families.  Those returning from active duty often need time to decompress, to recuperate, to work through matters from their deployment.  And this isn’t always an easy process, not something that can be rushed through.  So families are “together”, but not always “complete” right away.  Which is why after the “Welcome Home” party, you need to continue to keep these families in your prayers.  Because they may be fighting an even bigger battle behind closed doors.

Prodigal Loved Ones:

We all have high hopes for the people we love.  Often we can see their potential even better than they can themselves.  So to watch someone squander their future is heartbreaking.  Especially if they are a brother or sister, a son or daughter, a father or mother, a best friend.  We can offer help and advice, discuss their strengths or life goals until we are blue in the face, but change is an uphill climb.  Typically they WILL go back to that addiction, that co-dependant relationship, that pattern of laziness, that abuse of our generosity.  Letting go is hard, but sometimes necessary.  And the wait/hope/prayer that they will come back to us (to their faith, to their senses) is maddening.  This is when we start wearing out the carpet from being on our knees.

Like I said, waiting without certainty is more common than you think.  It surrounds us (and I’m certain I didn’t begin to touch on everything).  Speaking as someone in the midst of a season of waiting, it is emotionally, mentally, and spiritually exhausting.  You don’t get to take a break.  You are always preparing for the other shoe to drop, the ax to fall.

Thrown out sentiments like “God is good” or “He won’t give you more than you can handle” are about as helpful as the “weird but true” stories that people in all these categories get blessed with.  Friends and outsiders are desperate to say something “helpful” to soothe you, to show they care.  But instead what we long for is deeper than that.  We want a reason, an explanation for why WE (of all people) are going through this.  And unfortunately, we won’t always get those answers on this side of heaven (sigh).  NOwhere in Scripture does it say “God won’t give you more than you can handle (Read this great blog about that).”  When we come to the end of ourselves, to the end of our rope, we *finally* can do the hard work of giving up control and living in Jesus’ strength.  Because WE cannot do anything on. our. own.

Some waits are a calling, as many adoptive and military families will agree.  But others (finances, disease, singleness) are sprung upon us with no warning.  In the middle of waiting, it is hard to acknowledge it as a learning experience.  An opportunity to grow.  But oftentimes with hindsight as a guide, we can witness how our walk deepened through adversity.  Although it's not something we’d initially jump into headfirst, the benefits reaped because of it are startling.  An increased empathy for others, a passion to come alongside those in similar circumstances, new relationships forged out of a mutual suffering, a vibrant and active prayer life.  You see as a believer, my foremost calling is to run after Jesus.  Even if I don’t understand where He is leading me or why He is leading me there.  The song “Oceans” (lyric video at the end of post) by Hillsong United has a refrain that beautifully expresses this concept:

Spirit lead me where my trust is without borders,

Let me walk upon the waters wherever you would call me.

Take me deeper than my feet could ever wander,

And my faith will be made stronger in the presence of my Savior.

I want to come to a place beyond questioning, where my trust in God is completely sincere.  I also (selfishly) want the lessons to be over, but growth doesn’t work like that.  Faith is built in the hard times, where I have to cling to Jesus and not my own illusions of control or strength.  We need to cultivate a childlike faith, to seek an innocent and complete dependence on the Father.  Like Elijah who ignored my prompts to do an emotional video featuring him sadly talking about the wait for his sister (Why can’t I have an obedient child, who humors my every whim?).  Instead he looked straight at me with those big blue eyes and said, “Mama, It’s not really hard for me.  Because I keep thinking ‘Someday she’ll come!’  It won’t be forever.”  Out of the mouth of babes.  My dear waiting friends, It won’t be forever.  You may not get your answers here on earth, but I assure you that the God who called you to this place LOVES you and will not abandon you now.

So I will call upon Your name and keep my eyes above the waves.

When oceans rise, my soul will rest in Your embrace.

For I am Yours and You are mine.