While stumbling across other adoption blogs tonight
I came across a great letter that a woman wrote to all "Waiting Mamas" and I wanted to share it. I know so many people adopting right now and the waiting is definitely the worst part! Here is what I read:
To my many friends or readers who
are in that purgatory — that hell — of waiting, I’m hoping to give you a little
encouragement today. I know what it feels like. I know the constant ache of
your heart, the struggle to be fully present for your family and friends when
you feel like half your heart and half your brain (or more) is always wrapped
up in something else. I remember all too well sneaking out of the bedroom in
the middle of the night so I could secretly check my e-mail and see if there
was any sort of paperwork update from the Congo, who was eight hours
ahead. I remember bursting into tears whenever certain songs would come on the
radio (though I now love the song “Home”, I was convinced God was trying
to torture me with its popularity and incessant radio time). I remember wanting
to punch the people who said, “God has a plan.” I remember being torn between
wanting to talk about my son all the time and dying for someone to ask me
about him and wanting to hole up in the house so I could just stop answering
the well-meaning “When will he be home?” questions. I remember feeling like I
had nothing left to give anyone because I was so emotionally exhausted.Waiting
Mama — this, too, shall pass. I know it doesn’t seem like it. It seems like
you’ve been in this forever and maybe you have. Maybe you have been fighting
for your child for years. Maybe you are on your third or fourth referral
because the others have fallen through or because you’ve lost a child. It’s
okay to be angry and upset that this takes so long. It shouldn’t have to.
Children should be with their mamas and not in an orphanage and it is not part
of “God’s plan” that your child is suffering hurt and pain while he waits for
you. That’s part of the sinful, broken world we live in. You have a right
to be outraged at the system that is keeping you apart. You have a right to
your tears, to your void, to your heartache.
Just remember that you are not alone. Even though it may seem like you are out of control and you are the only one advocating for your child, God is fighting for you and for your child, too:
The Lord your God will fight for you; you need only to be still. (Exodus 14:14)
I know those words won’t suddenly make your wait joyous. I know they won’t necessarily take away the deep ache you have for your child. But I hope that they make you feel less alone. And I hope knowing that there are other mamas who have shared your same pain and longing and are now on the other side is somehow encouraging to you.
Just remember that you are not alone. Even though it may seem like you are out of control and you are the only one advocating for your child, God is fighting for you and for your child, too:
The Lord your God will fight for you; you need only to be still. (Exodus 14:14)
I know those words won’t suddenly make your wait joyous. I know they won’t necessarily take away the deep ache you have for your child. But I hope that they make you feel less alone. And I hope knowing that there are other mamas who have shared your same pain and longing and are now on the other side is somehow encouraging to you.
One day your child will be in your arms.
One day you will no longer be waiting.
And I promise you this, waiting mama: that moment is so very worth the wait.
One day you will no longer be waiting.
And I promise you this, waiting mama: that moment is so very worth the wait.
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