I'm not sure I should blog about this.
And I'm not sure how to.
And I'm not sure if I'm even allowed to.

But I want to.  
I want to put it out there into the world. 
I want to document what God is doing, even though I don't really know what it is yet.

Not very long ago, it finally happened.
My husband and I finally opened up and shared all of our thought and feelings about our miscarriage.
It only took us two years.

wow. two years.
We talked about it as it was happening and just after, but not much.  It took me four months to mention it on my blog.  I read article after article on how to cope with loss.  I read about couples going through depression and all of these horrible things.  I didn't feel that way.  I didn't feel any way. In fact, I don't think I mentioned it on here again until a year later. January of this year, to be exact. We miscarried in October 2010.
The articles I read mentioned couples who didn't talk about it and then had a breakdown years later.  That's not us, I thought. I'm really fine.  I trust God (was and still is true).  But looking back, I see that I wasn't talking about it because I was afraid.

I was afraid to talk to Wade about it.  I think I was afraid he wouldn't want to talk. I was afraid it would make him upset. I wanted to talk about our baby.  I wanted to ask if he thought about our baby. I wanted to know if he felt like a daddy. I wanted to know if he felt the loss on fathers day, or thought about me on mothers day.

But I never asked.

I wanted to tell him that I thought about our baby sometimes.  That I wished I had been more excited when we found out we were pregnant. How I wish the doctors hadn't told me I miscarried before I actually did and how I just wish I had let myself be more excited. I wish I hadn't tried to guard my heart so much... it didn't work anyway.
I wanted to tell him that I look at our sonogram picture sometimes.  How I put it in our box of special things.  I wanted to tell him how glad I am that we got to hear the baby's heart beat. How thankful I am for that.  How I would never ever ever take that back. How I feel love for that baby.  How I think about our baby being in heaven and how I'm happy that they've been with Jesus this whole time, and that God lent them to me, even if it was just for 7 weeks.

But I didn't.

Then, it happened. Our reality stood in front of us, unavoidable, and so we talked. And cried, a lot.
And boy did it feel good.

I think I can mark that night down as one of the best nights in our marriage.  We asked each other everything we'd kept inside this whole time. We bared our souls, talked about our baby in heaven freely, like we always should have. And we promised to stop keeping things in. We promised to be open and say what we thought. Because this whole time, we've both been feeling the same way.

He, too, had questions.
He, too, had things he wanted to say.
And he, too, was afraid say them.

We talked about the baby, and whether we thought it was a boy or a girl.  We talked about how thankful we were that God let us have that time. We talked about our relationship and how thankful we were for each other. How we were so grateful that God gave us each other and how we were more than satisfied and blessed if it remained just the two of us forever. We talked about our "kids" in Mexico and how they felt like ours, even though they aren't. We talked about adoption and how clueless we were on where to start and when or how.

Wade shared what I've felt for so long:  this turmoil over what to do, where to begin, and when.  He said, as crazy as it sounds, that he felt like if we were to adopt, God would give us the child. I've felt this way too, but it just doesn't seem logical to me.  I'm definitely one of those people who believes in doing our part and letting God open or close the doors along the way. This also results in my being a planner to the max.  This also results in stress.

When people ask me where we are in the adoption process, I feel stress. I feel pressure.  I feel expectation weighing down on me.

Mostly, I feel like a failure when I say, nowhere.

And then this week happened.
I got shingles (this really has nothing to do with the story, it's just true) and I've been stuck in the house since Friday. Lucky me, Wade was off and we've had lots of time to spend together while he takes care of me *what a sweety*

Sunday evening, I got an email.
An email that rocked my world. in a good way.
It was an email about a possible private adoption. I was in shock, once again. And I found myself working to not get excited in an attempt to guard my heart, once again.  And then I thought, you know what? Who cares about that? I'm going to fully feel everything God does -- regardless of where this ends up.

After a lot of phone calls and conversations and some dreaming and praying, we started waiting.

One of the friends I called for advice is very high (maybe the highest) in our county's court system.  And until Sunday, they didn't know about our infertility situation and adoption hopes. They have since checked up on us to see if we have heard any more and has taken it upon themselves to set us up with a friend who is heavily involved in the adoption world.
I have no idea what will come from these two situations.
It's only been a few days since this all started and I'm fully aware of the kind of time this stuff takes, but it's a step. Into what direction? I don't know. I only know that God is leading it.

Maybe God will give us a baby, maybe He won't.  But one thing I know, I've already learned more than I knew.  And none of it was our doing. I feel like God is doing something and regardless of what it is, I want to fully experience every part of it.

More than anything, I ask that you pray for this baby and her brother that God will place them in a safe, happy, Christ-filled home -- whether it be ours, or someone else's.




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