When I was in seventh grade, I took my first and last ride on a dirt bike. The ride lasted all of thirty seconds and ended with me face-down in the dirt. After my mind caught up with my body, I got up and brushed myself off, completely stunned and absolutely numb. When I looked down to clean off my legs I noticed huge raw patches on my knees.
The wounds on my knees bled and bled, then they itched and itched as scabs formed around the rim and slowly worked inwards, over the course of the next few days, to cover the oozing centers. The scabs took quite some time to form, and because of their location they cracked, and bled a little more, and reformed, and chipped off, and it all resulted in a very unpleasant mess. However, because of those ugly and uncomfortable scabs protecting my skin my knees had a chance to heal.
My heart felt like my knees did then. For so long we bled grief profusely, and now, almost five months since Leah’s death, I finally felt like there was a good solid crust forming on the outer circle of my wound. Not covering it, but promising to. I still hurt, I was far from healed, but it felt like I had that little bit of protection that I needed to begin.
The events of last week have re-exposed our hurt. The little protection and distance we built up over almost five months of grieving have been brutally ripped away. We feel raw again.
I think it is far more about the rejection and much less about the loss of the baby. Not that we wouldn’t have loved to have him, but until Tuesday morning we had settled into waiting for our baby from Uganda. We had a measure of contentment with things as they stood. Having the possibility of having a baby now dangled in front of us and then taken away hurt, but what hurt more is that someone else examined our lives and decided we wouldn’t be the best parents for her child.
As we move into the holiday season, one that we planned to spend with our Leah, things were already getting tough, but we felt like we had the resources to deal with hard situations. Now we feel drained and vulnerable.
The wounds on my knees bled and bled, then they itched and itched as scabs formed around the rim and slowly worked inwards, over the course of the next few days, to cover the oozing centers. The scabs took quite some time to form, and because of their location they cracked, and bled a little more, and reformed, and chipped off, and it all resulted in a very unpleasant mess. However, because of those ugly and uncomfortable scabs protecting my skin my knees had a chance to heal.
My heart felt like my knees did then. For so long we bled grief profusely, and now, almost five months since Leah’s death, I finally felt like there was a good solid crust forming on the outer circle of my wound. Not covering it, but promising to. I still hurt, I was far from healed, but it felt like I had that little bit of protection that I needed to begin.
The events of last week have re-exposed our hurt. The little protection and distance we built up over almost five months of grieving have been brutally ripped away. We feel raw again.
I think it is far more about the rejection and much less about the loss of the baby. Not that we wouldn’t have loved to have him, but until Tuesday morning we had settled into waiting for our baby from Uganda. We had a measure of contentment with things as they stood. Having the possibility of having a baby now dangled in front of us and then taken away hurt, but what hurt more is that someone else examined our lives and decided we wouldn’t be the best parents for her child.
As we move into the holiday season, one that we planned to spend with our Leah, things were already getting tough, but we felt like we had the resources to deal with hard situations. Now we feel drained and vulnerable.
Posts
4 comments:
What a great analogy.
I think adoption is a very rewarding end and I'm so happy that you are planning to adopt. You're going to be great parents to a very lucky child. The road to that end can be hard and painful and fraught with shattered hopes and disappointments under even the best circumstances. It may be that you need more time to let your scabs heal completely. The scars will never go away, but I believe there will be a time when you won't feel so raw and bleeding. I pray for that for you and then I pray that God will bring you your child.
You are an amazing author. Although incredibly rewarding adoption does leave you fearfully vulnerable to the rejections and what ifs that dance in your head. I have kept you in my prayers for the last 5.5 months and will continue to do that as we approach a season that is suppose to be joyous and cheerful. Although you had anticipated many fond and happy memories with Leah this season, and now the emotional hurt is ever present continue to keep your head up and follow God's direction as he holds your hands and guides you in the direction you should go. I know so much easier said than done. My prayers for your family continue!
Thank you for sharing your heart again.
Post a Comment