Key~Notes

Let me start out by saying that I’m incredibly blessed.  I have a roof over my head, sufficient food in my cupboards, a wonderful family (both immediate AND extended), and the sweetest gift of all . . . a surety of the saving power of Christ.

However, I’m thinking today might be a wee bit of a challenge.  One year ago today, an on-again/off-again friend of mine called me to say she was pregnant and would James and I please adopt her baby.

I’ve forgiven her completely for the heartache she caused our family (honestly the only issues I’m having with her right now pre-date 22 September 2008 and are based in concern for her and for her children).  The way the whole scenario played out in May was providential, in that I was the only one of our family to ever hold, or even meet “Zachary” when we thought he would be ours.  I am eternally grateful that James and Christopher were spared the lion’s share of the heartache of that situation.

However, I’m still trying desperately to get back to the place I was a year ago.  The place where a family of 3 was okay . . . where I was excitedly looking forward to the opportunities James and I would have as comparatively early empty-nesters.  The place where 32 babies born in our ward in one year was no big deal.  The place of acceptance I’d found as an infertile woman in a church culture that places great emphasis on having children . . . not to mention my own desires for a big family.

I’m not there yet . . . part of me wonders if I’ll EVER be there again.  It’s just so hard when every time I hear the cry of an infant, I long to reach out, to hold, to comfort . . . and I can’t.  I long for the babies that will not be mine in this earth life . . . but that longing is tempered by the knowledge that those babies will be mine when forever comes.  Harder though is the longing for the baby I held in my arms for a few hours . . . the baby I found out about a year ago . . . that I started LOVING as mine a year ago.  The baby/little boy/son I’ll never get to have.

So yes, today is probably going to be hard.  Please be patient with me.

Warning . . . rant/vent ahead . . . but perhaps this goes to show that I’m NOT Kate-the-Saint as it seems most people are thinking I am! :p

I’m struggling a lot right now . . . trying to see God’s purpose in the past 8 months since the (former) birthmother chose us.  And I can’t . . .

Perhaps it’s because I’m still grieving . . . and might be for a while . . . (side note . . . can I curl up in a ball and cancel life until I feel better?  no?  drat! )

I’m not angry . . . more just frustrated.  Have I forgiven the bmom for the pain she’s caused me?  Yes!  But I’m struggling with the knowledge that this pain didn’t have to happen.

No, I’m not saying that she should have given us the baby after all.  That wasn’t God’s plan.  I know that, and I’m okay with that part.

I’m saying I WISH she’d asked God what His plan for this little one was back when she found out she was pregnant.  Had she asked and let herself be open to His answer, I would never have been involved with the situation (except as her friend).

Perhaps then these empty arms would not ache so much.

I was doing GOOD . . . I was content with our family of 3 . . . excited with the possibilities that having an early empty nest would bring James and myself . . .

Did I have days when I wished that things had been different for us . . . that our dreamed-of family of 6+ kids would have been able to happen?  Sure!  But they were getting fewer and further between.  I had grieved my infertility, had gotten through it . . .

But with that one phone call in September, my world shifted . . . and I began to think like a young mom again.  I was excited (though a bit nervous!) to have another child.  To have a blessing fulfilled, because I thought I was meant to be the mother to more than one child.

So now, when those dreams that were made when my heart was whole are shattered in pieces on the floor . . . I find myself grieving again . . . not just the loss of this precious little one . . . but the whole infertility situation again.  *sighs*

I know I’m probably just “kicking against the pricks”, to use a Scriptural phrase, but honestly . . . I can’t see the purpose in this pain . . . does someone know what it is and can show me?

I don’t want to hurt like this anymore.