It has now been almost 3 months since we’ve returned from our trip to Africa, yet it feels like forever ago. I miss it all the time. Not just the children there who I still cry for, but the actual land itself. I miss all of it. There’s something about Africa that just makes you feel alive. It’s like it brings you back to the basics of life, of nature and of people. Take that and combine it with being somewhere new, not having to go to work, new experiences and new faces, and it’s just a combination for falling in love with the place.
But unlike Cancun or Colorado or any other “vacation destination”, I feel this was different. It was a connection much deeper, although I can’t totally explain it. It’s like Africa got in my bones. But even odder than that, I felt that way before I even got there. I loved it before I even stepped foot on the soil. Maybe it’s the Lord calling us to it, as some level or another. Who knows. Time will tell.
We’re definitely called to the children. And for now, that looks like 2 beautiful children from the Democratic Republic of Congo who will be joining our family probably within the next 8-9 months, maybe sooner.
This whole adoption process is crazy. When we first started, we wanted the kids (or rather kid, since we initially thought we were only going to try for 1 this time around) home and with us right that instant. We wanted everything to move the quickest it had ever moved in adoption history. Every day those first few weeks was so tough. I could feel my heart physically and painfully missing them and yearning for them to be in my arms.
It has now been close to 3 months since we began our adoption process, and I can tell that the waiting that we’ve been having to do is starting to take its toll. We’ve gotten our fingerprints, physicals, blood work, letters of recommendation from friends, family and employers, and are a month and a half into our home-study. Adam and I have done everything on our end, and there isn’t 1 more thing that we can possibly do at this point, as much as I almost wish there was. I’d almost prefer a terribly long list of to-do’s, with all its frenzy, as opposed to this nothing. We’re just sitting and waiting. Our social worker quoted us 2 months to have our home study completed, and that was the expedited service! Still 2 more weeks until the 2 month mark.
Meanwhile, the waiting is wearing on me. Some days, I wonder if we’re even still adopting. It’s difficult not to confuse the waiting with loss of interest or a changing of the mind. Having no more tasks to complete, I’m left with battling thoughts of feeling like I’m not emotionally involved enough in the process. Should I be doing more? Something? What can I do? Should I be talking about it more? It sure doesn’t feel like a normal pregnancy. And I guess it isn’t… but yet it is. We really are having a baby. Not just that, we’re having twins! We’re getting 2! But it doesn’t always feel like it. I somewhat envy my pregnant friends. The “real” kind of pregnant. The kind that our society welcomes with open arms and celebrates with baby talk on a daily basis. A woman who’s pregnant cannot escape that she’s pregnant. Those around her remind her all the time. People just light up talking about her soon-to-arrive bundle of joy.
Yet I don’t feel that. Who knows, it could all just be in my head. But I almost feel as if I can’t fully celebrate my pregnancy for the fear that I may make someone feel uncomfortable. I might strike a nerve with someone who doesn’t fully support it or may have some issues with it or maybe have their own opinions with how my life should look or what the “best thing” for me would be or for the children. So I almost feel like I have to such my stomach in. Try not to be as pregnant. Maybe not really talk about it as much as I’d like to. And that’s okay, too. But I miss that daily celebrating that a mother gets. I do. Poor, needy me, as strong as I may seem to be on the outside, still needs it. And every day.