I hate that I haven’t updated this blog in over a month. I start writing posts but then I can’t finish them because I can’t find any thoughtful, uplifting note to end on. I’m sad and frustrated. Sad that we won’t have a baby this month. Sad that it’s already been this long and we’re still not parents. Sad that we had to break things off with D even though that wasn’t what the three of us wanted. Yes, the reason we started talking to her was because she wanted to place her baby with us. But she and I became friends, we would text or talk almost every day. And, aside from getting over the fact that this wasn’t our baby, we had to get over the fact that she was not our child’s birthmother. It really would have been a great situation with her and it’s been hard to let go of the visions we had of that relationship too. I’m frustrated that we’re having to put a lot more time and money into renewing our homestudy so we can wait some more. Every advertisement email I get about “the perfect gift for mom!” from every store on the face of the earth puts a knot in my stomach. It’s a reminder that it’s May. And another Mother’s Day. And the due date for the baby that isn’t ours.
I want SO badly to be over this. To be able to completely move on, and be optimistic again. But it’s so incredibly hard. I spend so much time trying to figure out why it still bothers me so much and why it’s so hard to move past. Why it makes my heart hurt to see an adorable little girl walking to preschool with her daddy. I don’t know that it’s even so much about that specific baby girl any more, because we’ve known for 2 months now that she isn’t going to be ours. I think it’s partially because we’ve had this sense of anticipation about May for the last six months. We were always cautiously optimistic, but it was impossible to not picture all the fun things we could be doing this summer with our little one or think about watching her grow up with her cousin who’s due only a few weeks later. It’s hard watching everything else in life continue around us after having to walk away from something that meant the world to us, and while we continue to wait.
I started this blog to document our journey to parenthood. I want to have something to look back on in twenty years and remember what all this was like. I want other people who read this to have a better understanding of adoption, both the beauty of the process and relationships and the difficulties that adoptive parents endure to bring their little ones home. But I don’t know that I want to remember this part. The loss. Emptiness. Heartache. Envy. Longing. Sadness. Hopelessness. Maybe that’s why I haven’t been able to write anything recently. I want our child to read this one day, when he or she is mature enough to understand it. And I don’t know that there’s much point in dwelling on all of those things we’re going through right now, because all he or she needs to know is that it was unimaginable love for him or her that helped us through this process and brought our family together. What I’m feeling now is not even sadness that that little girl isn’t ours, but more that our little one hasn’t found us yet. It’s odd being so in love with someone that you’ve never met, seen or felt kick inside you. It’s a feeling many people will never have. And one that I hope, even with as painful as everything is right now, I will remember in twenty or thirty years.
I have died every day, waiting for you
Darling don’t be afraid, I have loved you
For a thousand years
I’ll love you for a thousand more
And all along I believed I would find you
Time has brought your heart to me, I have loved you
For a thousand years
I’ll love you for a thousand more
~”A Thousand Years”, Christina Perri
The Life That Is Waiting For Us 
My husband and I have been trying to create a family for the past 8 years. Through years of failed medical treatments and now through adoption. We were matched with our BM three weeks before he was to be born. We ran around spending thousands of dollars getting everything we would need (why buy it earlier if it were to never work out). Two weeks ago birthday came and both us and our families were overwhelmed with love. It was 8 years in the making. We were at the hospital holding and loving the little guy when our BM changed her mind. I am a crier but I have never heard a cry escape from my like I did in that hospital. We came home, my husband ran ahead of my inside to hide all of the baby stuff so I didn’t have to see it. I spent days laying on the floor of his nursery, surrounded by his things…I didn’t eat or sleep. It has been two weeks and I don’t feel much stronger. I have been writing down our journey so that, like you, my child could read our journey to him/her and, like you, I have struggled with how to write about this and how it has shaken my faith, destroyed my hope, and my fears of being unable to trust another BM in the future. I feel guilty like I should have been able to do or say something to have her feel more comfortable with us. I feel guilty that my families and my husband are hurting because of this, because if I didn’t have infertility issues, we would have a baby by now. The worst part is that I am adopted and talking to our BM helped to resolve some open issues in my own life. I thought this relationship could be so rewarding for all of us, and now we are left with nothing but an empty room and empty hearts. The fact that Sunday is mother’s day only seems to compound my sadness. There are several pregnant people that work with me and once their children are born I will be the only one at work without a child. I feel isolated every way I turn.
Then, I found your blog. Incredibly I see my feelings reflected in your words. It is one thing to talk to people with failed adoptions, because those people have come through it on the other side with a child. Right now, it is though I was walking alone…then I found this blog. It gives me some solace to know, out there, right now, is a “mother-to-be” out there with the same hurt and same feelings. That I am not really alone.
I pray that your child finds you, as soon as possible and that your family is made whole so very soon. I pray for your comfort. I pray for your hope and for a full heart.
I’m so so sorry you had to go through that. As heartbreaking as this failed match was for us, we were “lucky” I guess in that we never held her. But letting go of the relationship we developed with BM over 4 months was anything but easy. It’s really helpful for me to write everything out, even if it’s not always something I can post. I would never wish this pain on anyone, but it is comforting in a way knowing I’m not alone. I hope you’re able to find peace with everything, especially tomorrow. Praying your little one comes home soon.
-Jackie