So where were we?
Oh yeah. At the beginning. Or somewhere around there.
We knew that we weren’t going to be able to bring home this other child at the same time as Vivienne. And as far as my husband was concerned, that was the only way we were going to be able to adopt this particular child. So when the door closed, it was tough. And truly, we were absolutely, positively beside ourselves with excitement over bringing home our precious Vivienne.
Once I had been home from China for a few months, this impression of a sister for Vivienne began to surface. Some times I was certain that she existed, as certain of it as I was of my own two feet. Other times, I felt like it was all just an illusion, a vision that would fade the harder I tried to focus in to see it clearly. And still other times, I just wished I could forget it. Forget whole thing. It would certainly be easier.
On the days it was really bad, I would share with my husband. When I say “share” I don’t mean a sentence or two. I mean pour my heart out. Y’all, I’ve got to be honest here. Truly sharing our hearts with our husbands is something that as wives many of us fail to do. We share with our friends, our sisters, our prayer group, our bloggy friends, our FB friends, but we don’t share with our husband. And then we wonder why he doesn’t share our heart when it comes to adoption.
But that’s a whole ‘nother post. That I do plan on sharing about someday.
Anyway, back at the ranch….
So I shared with him. And he shared right back. Except, what he had to share was whole lot shorter than what I’d shared, and a lot less sweet: No way, Jose.
Which, if the truth be told, was somewhat of a relief.
I am not sure about you, but when I feel God pressing on me to do something, I don’t always want to do it. In fact, lots of times I flat out don’t want to do it.
But God doesn’t give up so easily.
So my heart would again fill to bursting with sorrow over the faces I’d see regularly, the stories I’d read, the thousands of children on the shared listing. And then I would pour my heart out to my husband, and he would let me cry on his shoulder, wait for me to finish, and gently say, “no”.
So, after these heart to hearts, I felt relieved, for the most part. I mean, there ain’t no way I’d even consider going down a road without my husband on board 100%. But I figured I’d done my part: “Okay, God. I know you’re doing something, but I’m not sure what. You break my heart regularly for the things that break Yours, but I laid my heart out there to him and he said no. You’ll have to take it up with him if you want this ship to set sail. As for me? I think I’ll go have a brownie.”
But one day in April, all that changed. It had been a while since I’d spoken to my husband about the state of my heart, about how broken it was on a regular basis knowing so many children needed a family to call their own. And about the child that I sensed might be out there waiting for us.
Call the agency.
Um, I’m sorry. What???
Call the agency and see what we need to do.
I’d like to say that at this point I jumped for joy and shouted hallelujah, but it didn’t quite go down like that.
In fact, this is where I proceeded to pee my pants, curl up into fetal position and pretend like I hadn’t just heard what he’d said.
And, I’m not gonna lie, it took me a long time to find my big girl panties. But eventually, I found them and even put them on. And then I called the agency and the social worker, and the work began.
Now I’m so excited I can’t hardly stand it. We were DTC on September 3rd, and depending on when we are logged in, we might even receive a referral to consider when the next shared list comes out at the end of this month.
Now, where did I put those big girl panties?