Other people while we wait

I've been wanting to write about what it's like waiting - what it's like in terms of our interactions with other people.

It's funny, because if I were pregnant I imagine that questions about the impending arrival would be frequent, repetitive and very forthcoming. It's an easy one, isn't it, making small talk with a pregnant lady. Pretty safe and straightforward (in most cases that is). But for us, for me and Hubby, we, despite being expectant parents, are rarely asked about things. I wonder if that will change once we have a match and are actively waiting for a baby to move in, but for now the conversations are uncommon.

I wonder why it is. I think it's a mixture of things - shyness, for a start. Some people are shy about bringing up the subject. They know we've been waiting a while now, and perhaps they are anxious about upsetting me by asking about how things are going. This makes a lot of sense - why would you want to keep going on about something which, as far as you can tell, is not happening?

Other people, I think, are unsure and are put off by their lack of understanding. They don't want to say the wrong thing, they don't know the lingo, the process, the way things work, and so they avoid the embarrassment by just saying nothing. Perhaps they are aware of confidentiality and don't want to put their foot in it and make things awkward for me. So they simply leave it alone.

Others, I guess those who are closer to us, perhaps just leave it up to us to start the conversation. Often we have sent prayer requests to close friends, or little updates here and there about things that are happening, partly to keep them in the loop and partly so that they know how we're feeling and what we're going through. Perhaps these friends don't bring up the subject at other points because they know that when we want and need to, we will.

But sometimes, it makes me a little sad, this lack of chat. But other times, it makes me sad to talk about it. So I guess no-one can win! Either way, I might be sad! If I'm in certain frame of mind, someone asking me for an update might irritate me, seem too personal, a bit intrusive and insensitive. But, I think more often, a person not asking irritates me more. I can't help but make that pregnant lady comparison, and think about how different things would be if I had a growing belly. So it's a strange one, but I mustn't forget that it's strange for our friends and family too. It would be easier for them, more straightforward, if we were expecting a baby naturally, but we're not. And so they have to negotiate the situation, which, for all the above reasons, isn't very straightforward.

If you've read this post, I'm afraid that's it. Nothing very groundbreaking or worthwhile. But just something I'm experiencing and so I didn't want to leave it out.

Am I pro-Adoption?

I’m not sure. 

I’m really not sure any more. 

It used to be a definite and resounding “Yes!” Adoption – a way of mending what’s been broken, of bringing life and security. A means by which a child can be restored and healed and can start to thrive. A way of sharing the love and safety and wellbeing you have to give. 

But, also: Adoption – a way of tearing apart, of bringing heartache and pain and grief and depression. A way of perpetuating cycles and removing people’s reasons to live and try. For some, actually for lots, adoption is bleak and dark and heartbreaking. 

Sometimes, like when we’re writing our contact letters to birth parents, I choke up about how something that has brought me such joy can also bring someone else such pain. Our adoption of Bounce will never be purely good, it isn’t possible. Adoption can never be a resounding “Yes!” because by its very nature it has sprung from a place of darkness and struggle. It is bittersweet. 

As a Christian I can’t help but think of biblical parallels. God is our heavenly Father. Adoption speaks of the Father heart of God. It is a beautiful image of how God takes our broken, far-from-him, far-from-right lives and nurtures us back to life. It’s about redemption, which I strongly believe God is in the business of – he takes those things that are spoilt, rubbish and lost and somehow, graciously, brings good out of them. He turns water into wine. 

But that imagery isn’t quite all it seems to be. In reality, adoption isn’t beautiful for everyone. Yes I am pleased (not quite the right word) to be able to help Bounce thrive, to show him safety and love and provision in all the right ways, but it’s sad that this has to happen. It isn’t right and it isn’t triumphant. Where God’s adoption of us sings of victory and overcoming, our adoption of Bounce…whispers quietly of loss, regret, pain, hope and love. 

I suppose what I am trying to say is that adoption, in an ideal world, wouldn’t exist. Obviously. But sadly, there is a need. I am glad not to be in a position of making decisions about removing children (removing – how could there not be pain when it’s a word like that?). I am glad, too, to be in a position where we can offer a home, safety, love, provision, and a family to a child who otherwise would be missing out on those things. It’s such a strange conflict in me: I want a baby, I can’t conceive a baby; I want a baby, I’ll adopt a baby. Does this mean I’m glad that Bounce needed adopting? Does this mean I’m currently waiting, subconsciously, for a mother and baby to be forced apart? Does this mean I’m eager for a mum somewhere to not quite reach the grade?

A while back, I read on Twitter a good line: Adoption is important and sad. I totally agree and I often come back to that in my mind. But on reflection I think I would add a note of more hopefulness than that. A slight thawing, like a snowdrop on a sunny day in early February. Adoption speaks of joy, it hints at something good. It’s birthed in pain and heartache, on both sides, but it speaks – just quietly - of longing fulfilled, of the gift of life – good, healthy, protected life, of second chances, of family, and of a chance for something wonderful to happen.