I once heard that "Adoption has the highest highs, and the lowest lows."
It's so true. Adoption is also like a rollercoaster. A never-ending one. One minute you are climbing to new heights with anticipation and excitement, and the next, something bad happens. There is a sickening drop.....and then you're falling, falling, falling, and your heart is in your throat. You're terrified and screaming, and you're sure you will die.
That's how the adoption process feels. Except maybe a hundred times worse.
My adoption roller coaster has been derailed mid-ride, and now it's ricocheting full-force down the tracks. The brakelines are cut. My children are hanging off the sides and the only thing keeping them from falling to their death are my aching, exhausted arms. They are crying and screaming for me to help them, and I am trapped in the tilting car, struggling with everything I am to hold onto them. I will not let go. I will not lose them. But I am SO. TIRED. Every jolt, every ricochet, every teardrop, is wearing on me. I'm not getting weaker. I'm not giving up. I WON'T. But I am SO tired.
A few months we got the incredible news that we had gotten a signature for Micah. One that took five YEARS to get. That was amazing. A miracle. A time of rejoicing. Our rollercoaster had climbed to the highest peak yet, and we were on top of the world.
A week later, I heard the sickening thud of car derailing as I got word that Felecia and Matthew's case was being dropped (AGAIN) and that it was permanent. I frantically contacted anyone and everyone who might be able to help and they all gave me the same answer: impossible.
I believe there is such a word as impossible. Impossible as far as human effort alone. But I also believe it's used far to frequently, applied to situations where extremely hard work is required to make things happen. And I think many people are not willing to do the work. Not willing to fight. Not willing to give everything it takes.
Sometimes, it takes everything.
That was June 17th. Part of my world fell apart. But I can't. I'm not allowed to. I don't have that luxury. If I fall apart, who will take my place? Who will protect my babies? No one. So I press on.
Instead of fighting the news, I suppressed it. Pretended it didn't happen. Because here's the truth: if I stopped and thought about what happened; if I let the pain of that get to me....I would lose it. I think I would have a breakdown. I just, CAN'T. It hurts so bad that I CAN'T think about it or process it. And I don't have time. Micah is running out of time. They are ALL running out of time, and I can't be lying on the floor sobbing hysterically. There can be time for that later. Right now, I have to drag myself up, and I have to run forward. RUN.
I spent June 17-September 30th without hearing a word on Micah's case. I can't go into details......in fact, I wish I could write a secret blog and then post it every year, so you could catch up on everything that has happened to us, but I don't dare write about it. Not that I'm afraid to write, but I'm not stupid. I will not endanger my kids. But know that 1/2 the story is ALWAYS missing. I spent June-September in AGONY. Waiting, and repeatedly trying to make contact, just to hear one sentence regarding Micah's case. It's a terrible form of torture.
Finally, on September 30th, I got a single sentence message, promising that Micah would clear within four weeks. Four weeks to the day from that text would be October 28th. The day we arrived back in Ethiopia to bring home Levi and Z. THAT would be incredible. But it's so hard to believe. I am choosing to; choosing to open my heart up to hope. But it feels terrifying, because we have been doing that for five years, and I always end up sobbing into a pillow, clutching a picture of Micah.
It also feels like the new agency we are working with is against us. I mean, it feels like they are doing everything in their power to PREVENT this adoption, and that is confusing and hurtful and exhausting. I am so tired of proving ourselves and being required to do the stupidest things over and over. They give us tedious, repetitious busy tasks and then repeatedly deny our paperwork for no reason. It's like a bad joke. Satan does NOT want kids to have families. Satan does not want you to follow God. And Satan will try to wear you down however he can; even through people who are probably good at heart.
You'd think Satan would have figured out by now that I just keep bulldozing.