So, to recap, we had been exhausting all avenues of research pertaining to cerebral palsy, and I was feeling consistently inconsistent.
Most days, when I would ask Philip what his thoughts were, they were the opposite of mine at the time. We would typically swap places the next day.
I had so many reservations. All were selfish. Disgustingly so, actually.
One was the loss of my free time. When I would meet my mommy friends at the park for a playdate, I would kick back on the nearest bench and watch the kids run out all their preschooler energy. I would get in some much-needed adult conversation time. I loved the fact that Caroline was now so independent and low-maintenance. Then the negative thoughts would come, creeping in like a dark cloud over my sunny day at the park. "If we do adopt Luisa, these days are over. I'll be consigning myself to forever playing on the playground with the kids, helping her do what the other kids are doing, while the mommies lounge on the bench where I used to sit."
Told you they were selfish concerns.
The next day, I would be full of faith and conviction that God had chosen this path for our family. I would have some perspective. I would see that he has provided and will continue to provide more than enough to meet our needs. For years, I have clung to what I see as my purpose in life, "to glorify God and enjoy Him forever." Answering yes to this calling is how we were to glorify God at this time in our lives.
Then I would have a difficult day with Caroline. I would think, "How in the world do I think I can parent a child with special needs when I can't even handle the three year old I have now? No way I am patient enough to handle it." The fire of conviction from the previous day would be doused by the whining and the fits.
My perspective would return as my preschooler awoke well-rested and reasonable the next morning. I would convey to Philip all of the reasons I felt that our family was perfect for this particular situation and how I could see that God had been preparing us for this all along.
Then another day would dawn, and with it would come doubt. I would fret over the limitations that would now be placed on our freedom to just get up and go. I would think about how difficult it would be to run errands or how this would affect our future family vacations.
As I said, I was consistently inconsistent.
On the weekend of my 30th birthday, Philip surprised with a weekend away for just the two of us. We went to Desoto State Park and spent the weekend relaxing, hiking, and discussing this decision. It was wonderful to be able to step away from the business of our everyday lives and really spend some time thinking this over together. We left that weekend knowing she was meant to be our daughter.
One was the loss of my free time. When I would meet my mommy friends at the park for a playdate, I would kick back on the nearest bench and watch the kids run out all their preschooler energy. I would get in some much-needed adult conversation time. I loved the fact that Caroline was now so independent and low-maintenance. Then the negative thoughts would come, creeping in like a dark cloud over my sunny day at the park. "If we do adopt Luisa, these days are over. I'll be consigning myself to forever playing on the playground with the kids, helping her do what the other kids are doing, while the mommies lounge on the bench where I used to sit."
Told you they were selfish concerns.
The next day, I would be full of faith and conviction that God had chosen this path for our family. I would have some perspective. I would see that he has provided and will continue to provide more than enough to meet our needs. For years, I have clung to what I see as my purpose in life, "to glorify God and enjoy Him forever." Answering yes to this calling is how we were to glorify God at this time in our lives.
Then I would have a difficult day with Caroline. I would think, "How in the world do I think I can parent a child with special needs when I can't even handle the three year old I have now? No way I am patient enough to handle it." The fire of conviction from the previous day would be doused by the whining and the fits.
My perspective would return as my preschooler awoke well-rested and reasonable the next morning. I would convey to Philip all of the reasons I felt that our family was perfect for this particular situation and how I could see that God had been preparing us for this all along.
Then another day would dawn, and with it would come doubt. I would fret over the limitations that would now be placed on our freedom to just get up and go. I would think about how difficult it would be to run errands or how this would affect our future family vacations.
As I said, I was consistently inconsistent.
On the weekend of my 30th birthday, Philip surprised with a weekend away for just the two of us. We went to Desoto State Park and spent the weekend relaxing, hiking, and discussing this decision. It was wonderful to be able to step away from the business of our everyday lives and really spend some time thinking this over together. We left that weekend knowing she was meant to be our daughter.
After we had made the decision to pursue Luisa's adoption, the reservations were gone! The roller coaster of doubt and conviction about the decision had ended. However, it seemed that I had actually boarded another, unexpected carnival ride. This one took me on loops of joy and dips of sadness.
I was elated that we now had another daughter! We were able to share with Caroline, and she was ecstatic. (I think the thought of a plane ride and a new sister were equally thrilling to her.) We already had a love for Luisa that is inexplicable. It is hard to put into words loving a child on another continent, but we were truly head over heels for her.
We called all of our family and let them know about the new addition. Each call, while joyous, was tempered with the explanation of her special needs. It was draining to repeat again and again.
I actually went through what I see now as a mourning period. I had to mourn the loss of the family I had always pictured. This was not what I had always thought would happen. I had expected to wait, and wait, and wait, and receive a call from our agency that we had been matched with a child. To sit with Philip and devour the information about our new baby. To call everyone we knew to share the news. To post on Facebook and my blog that we now had another baby in the family. This experience was just different. The months spent praying and contemplating without sharing with those we love were agonizing. Even once we had decided to adopt her, we were told to not broadcast the news until we had received our official referral.
I would have panic moments about what we had gotten ourselves into. It wasn't doubt about our decision, but worry about what life would be like. I listened to Jenny and Tyler's song, "When Darkness Falls," on repeat.
It had been a long road. We now knew where it would end, and the destination was a beautiful little girl with curly hair, a huge smile, and CP. It was the road God had chosen for us, even if it took us awhile to find the map.
I was elated that we now had another daughter! We were able to share with Caroline, and she was ecstatic. (I think the thought of a plane ride and a new sister were equally thrilling to her.) We already had a love for Luisa that is inexplicable. It is hard to put into words loving a child on another continent, but we were truly head over heels for her.
We called all of our family and let them know about the new addition. Each call, while joyous, was tempered with the explanation of her special needs. It was draining to repeat again and again.
I actually went through what I see now as a mourning period. I had to mourn the loss of the family I had always pictured. This was not what I had always thought would happen. I had expected to wait, and wait, and wait, and receive a call from our agency that we had been matched with a child. To sit with Philip and devour the information about our new baby. To call everyone we knew to share the news. To post on Facebook and my blog that we now had another baby in the family. This experience was just different. The months spent praying and contemplating without sharing with those we love were agonizing. Even once we had decided to adopt her, we were told to not broadcast the news until we had received our official referral.
I would have panic moments about what we had gotten ourselves into. It wasn't doubt about our decision, but worry about what life would be like. I listened to Jenny and Tyler's song, "When Darkness Falls," on repeat.
When darkness falls at evening time
And all the world is still
My heart feels restless, oh my God
It longs to be filled
Oh Father rescue me from doubt
Deliver me from grief
Let your joy in me abound
Remove my unbelief, remove my unbelief
I hear the wind rush through the trees
A peaceful whistling sound
But still my soul is not at ease
And sleep cannot be found
You are stillness, you are quiet
You are comfort and peace
It had been a long road. We now knew where it would end, and the destination was a beautiful little girl with curly hair, a huge smile, and CP. It was the road God had chosen for us, even if it took us awhile to find the map.
"And God is able to make all grace abound to you, so that having all sufficiency in all things at all times, you may abound in every good work." II Corinthians 9:8
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