I got a call from the adoption agency we are going through. They are looking over our adoption application - all 64 pages of it! Yes, you read that right - 64 pages, and yes, there was something to write on at least 90 percent of those pages. Most were ordinary questions, some were quite simple, others were stuff like, have you ever been attracted to the same sex, or if you could change one thing about your spouse, what would it be. It was very invasive and extensive.
She really only called to ask a few questions, and to let me know a few things
They were simple questions like, I noticed you put this on your application, now that you went through our training, did you have any changes.
The adoption training actually alleviated a lot of worries I had about open adoption. I went from on the fence, to feeling that it was the best thing for our child. I have to admit, I was leaning towards that way, but I had to actually see an open adoption myself to know how great it could be. It was beautiful.
She also informed us, we will indeed have to close our foster care license if we want to go forward with this adoption process. We kind of already knew that.
But it wasn't her questions or explanations that caused me stress, it was knowing that they are looking through our 64 page adoption application, evaluating whether they wanted to meet with us or not.
I know my answers, and I know very few things in there would even cause a raised eye, but I also worry, did I word things wrong. I wrote in such a hurry, because the application process itself took several hours. There were times, I just hurried along. What if I marked a box wrong? What if I accidentally said, I do drugs, or accidentally said yes, I committed a felony? What if I screwed up?
Maybe our daughter is destined to be an only child.
Maybe if I were pregnant, I would be worried that I ate the wrong food, or put too much stress on my body, or did something else to my body to cause harm to my child, but to me, the adoption worries just seem like an extension of infertility.
If I am supposed to be someone else's mother, it will happen. God will do His will, yet there is a part of me that wonders, what if God's will doesn't include extending our family? If that is His will, I should be content with that. Yet, I worry that my greatest desire in having a large family is not the same as my Creator's.
I know it's a small petty thing in the grand scheme of things. I have a child, why should I be greedy and want more. There are men and women dying at war everyday, they are mothers and fathers, sisters and brothers, and someone's child. There are women having miscarriages, stillborns, and other child losses. This is not a loss that compares to those, yet it is a loss. A loss of a dream. Maybe it is a selfish dream, at least I have my daughter and my husband, let's not forget the most amazing support system any person could possibly have. I am more blessed than anyone needs to be, yet I have this hope, and I fear of losing that hope.
Sensible, rational, I'm afraid not... So I guess, as I have done many times with this exact same fear. I need to wrap it up in a little box, hand it to God and say, this is my greatest hope and my greatest fear, here now it is yours. He can take my hope and my fear and I can be content... unless I try to take that present back-again.
This Christian mom is far from perfect, but continually strives to grow and develop. She is an avid reader of both fiction and non-fiction and focuses a lot on personal growth. She loves to share what she has learned through her studies and her own failures, as well as walks alongside other mothers as they learn together the ins and outs of parenting.