Wednesday, November 10, 2010

10. Pain

I'm having major writer's block. So it might be quite apparent in this post. I'm just going to try and break through the block. The other night I had a really hard time. I grabbed my Olivia bear and I said to Tayler, "Sometimes I think it'd be easier if she were here, it probably wouldn't hurt as much."

If you could go back and change just one thing about your life, would you? 
And if you did, would that change make your life better? Or would that change 
ultimately break your heart? Or break the heart of another? Would you choose 
an entirely different path? Or would you change just one thing? Just one 
moment? One moment that you always wanted back?


Do you know that adoptive families pray for a tragedy? When they wish for their home to be blessed with a family. They are praying for somebody to go through a crisis pregnancy. They are praying for someone to die to gain custody of their baby. How else are they blessed? It's a tough thing to really think about but that's what it is.


I know that's not their intention. I've watched and read about adoptive families be hurt by the pain they have caused their child's birth family. But they're not the cause. You're not the cause. We are our own cause.

I don’t think you understand how easy it is to make a mistake
that will cost you forever. All it takes is one wrong choice.



Our choice, our consequence. 

I had never known true, unconditional love until the day that I met Olivia. I had never known the pain that brought me to my knees and to tears is the day I placed her in the arms of another family. 


It may have been easier. I will never know.

It feels like someone kicked you in the stomach, feels like your heart stopped
beating, feels like that dream you know the one when you are falling and you want
so desperately to wake up before you hit the ground but its all out of your control,
you cant trust anything anymore, no one is who they say they are, your life is
changed forever, and the only thing to come out of the whole experience
is no one will be able to break your heart like that again.

And I can't wait for the day that this pain will all be worth it.



Letting go doesn't mean we don’t care. Letting go doesn't mean we
shut down. Letting go means we stop trying to force outcomes and make
people behave. It means we give up resistance to the way things are, for the
moment. It means we stop trying to do the impossible–controlling that which
we cannot–and instead, focus on what is possible.

4 comments:

  1. I think that it is incredibly brave of you to recognize that however well meaning an adoptive parent may be, many hearts have to break so that they may have the child they are praying for..

    With love,
    Katy

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  2. I so needed to read this tonight. My heart is so heavy this time of year. Your words amaze me and inspire me. Thank you...

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  3. When Meghan first told me she was pregnant I was so angry. I was even angry with Heavenly Father. Why does he let the young and naive have the capability of procreation, WHY? The answer that came was this was the only way some of these good families would be able to have children. Well, that's part of it anyway. The only part that could help me reconcile this. Your post is beautiful, thank you for talking about what most of us don't really want to talk about....pain & truth.

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  4. loved this, stef! thank you for putting into words what every birth mom is thinking.

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