Everyone is so excited. Friends and family are giddy for us and for the arrival of our long awaited baby.
Bubbling over with joy, they swamp Francesco and I with eager questions. “Have you heard anything yet?” “How far is the process?” “Do you have any idea when baby is coming?”
I know their hearts. I know they are impatient for us. They know how much we want baby to come home, and so, as we wait, we are surrounded by a host of loved ones who can’t wait for the happy news.
“It’s only been two months”, I say. “We were warned that this period would be difficult because of the silence.” And because I’m overwhelmed by how excited everyone is for me, I show them, or tell them about, the baby stuff we have already, inviting them to continue on this journey with us, to continue to be excited for us.
But it’s getting hard now, and it’s a “hard” I’m struggling to articulate.
It’s not like the time when I was not sure whether I’d ever be a mom. That waiting was a hollow one, a time when I was too afraid to hope, a time when I squashed any emotion related to the emptiness of my womb and my arms. Then I waited for a change of heart, for us both to say yes to adoption.
No. This time the waiting is different. This time my husband wears around his neck the reminder that we are expectant parents. This time round, the cupboards are filling with baby clothes, baby accessories, baby bedding bought not only by me, but by family who are SO excited for little one to arrive.
This time the waiting is full. Full of loved ones who cannot contain their joy for us. Full of grandparents who are eagerly awaiting their grandchild to arrive. Full of plans for a nursery. Full of plans for a baby shower that promises to be the baby shower of the year (thanks to party planners of note!).
This time the waiting is heavily pregnant with faith, full of assurance of a baby deeply hoped for, full of love for a baby we have not yet met (my adoption paraphrase of Hebrews 11:1).
It is this hope and love for a baby we have not yet met that makes the waiting harder with each day that passes, that makes my arms heavy with the emptiness.
I know a baby is coming. I know that the baby that God has chosen for us is being prepared for us. And yet, this knowing doesn’t make the waiting easy.
Control-freak me really struggles with the fact that there is absolutely nothing that I can do to speed up this process. And so, once again, I find that my only recourse for any kind of peace of mind is SURRENDER.
Once again I hear God say to me, “Let the heaviness go. Lean in to me. Stop doubting yourself. Stop worrying about whether your profile is not right. Trust me. I want this baby for you as much as what you want baby.”
As I scrolled through Facebook yesterday, I came across Ann Voskamp, who prayed,
… so it’s a messed up little blue planet spinning here, Lord,
and honestly, there’s just a whole mess of us struggling & suffering
with grief we don’t know how to put words around,
with relationships that we don’t know how to put arms around,
with failures that we don’t how to put hope around…
And frankly, we’re struggling real hard here to believe it, though we know it’s true:
There is no soul growth without change & no change without surrender…
And You cup our faces real close tonight and nod:
“Surrender yourself to Me… wait patiently for Me…. You may want this cup of suffering taken away — but trust Me. Want My Will more than yours… ” (Psalm 37:7 GWT, Mark 14:36 NLT)
And we nod & look into You & murmur back our true surrender: “Lord, if it most works things out to remove this suffering, please, please do. But if it most fulfills Your purpose in my life or another’s, please, please do not take it away — just be with us & carry us through… ”
We are the Brave who will Brazenly Trust & Believe Big Things:
Suffering quietly begs us to surrender —
so we can win a greater wisdom, a deeper strength, a closer intimacy.
And in our courageous surrender — all we want is to win more of You.
#HonestPrayersForTheBrave (7 April 2015)
I’m not there yet. i can feel that I have not yet surrendered the heaviness. I still check my phone anxiously everyday, just to make sure I haven’t missed the call from our social worker.
But I’m working on it. I’m working on surrendering.
And in the meantime, I’ll pray,
“Baby, I can’t wait to meet you. I haven’t seen you, but I already love you so much. Come quickly. Mommy and daddy are praying for you, and excitedly waiting for you.”