During my first miscarriage, I remember the bedroom walls breathed. I heard this deep gasping sound. I sat on the edge of the bed, void of sensation, certain I’d died. The walls sagged in and out in a jerky, rhythmic motion. Minutes disguised themselves as hours. Then, I started to wail and realized the jagged breathing came from me, not the walls. I curled up in a fetal position hoping to stop the cramping, but nothing bridled the pain. My body mirrored the repeated stabbing in my heart and all I could do was hold on to my bedspread and cry.
When you’ve waited for a child, the endless months and years passing at tortoise speed while your arms remain empty are surreal. My numb heart refused the slightest mention of hope. In the early 1980’s, Nebraska adoption agencies reported 400 couples waiting for every white, healthy child relinquished for adoption. Exhausted in spirit, mind and body, I couldn’t handle the thought of plowing a new field of adoption with myself, my husband or our families. I wondered daily if all of them had given up on me, because I had.
Most wee hours of the morning found me sitting on my front porch, bargaining with and questioning God. Why me? Why was it taking so long? Why didn’t God answer my prayers? I never stopped to think I couldn’t hear Him if He tried to tell me anything. My prayers were one-sided, accusing and brimming with self-pity. After I lost my baby, I gave up. I couldn’t bear any further disappointment, and I was certain I’d be childless.
I don’t know how I knew I needed to, but I allowed myself to grieve. So much loss. . . my child, my emotional stability, my life had ceased except for this endless quest of womanly fulfillment. Even though I knew it was a lie, I told God it didn’t matter anymore.
I craved peace.
God is patient. He doesn’t give up even when we do, and for that, I give Him the praise and glory He deserves. About six months after losing my child, I met a woman and her daughter she’d adopted from Korea. The beautiful child stole my heart, and hope erupted inside me, again. With God, what we often view as coincidence, are His definitive plans for our lives. This precious woman told me about the agency she’d worked with: www.holtinternational.org. Adoption was the answer I’d prayed for. Even when I didn’t know it, God knew. In His timing, He changed my life forever.
A week later, a letter arrived in the mail. The woman I’d met sent two photos of her little girl and my husband had the opportunity to see her, too. We didn’t take long to decide. We applied with Holt, started the home-study process, and to make a very long story short, eleven months later we were a family of three! God is awesome. His love and concern for us and everything in our lives should renew your hope. He understands the ache in your heart to have a child, He put that desire inside you. Trust Him. Don’t give up. Consider all the options. Adoption is the gift of life.
If you’re pregnant and considering abortion, please read this post again. God, the giver of life, has a plan for you and the child you carry. His plan is life, not death. Prayerfully consider adoption. God has a family waiting to receive your gift.
Email or write me. See my contact page. Tell me your story. I want to listen, to help, to pray.