There was this moment. This space in time where all stood still. The chaos around me turned to slow motion. As if time itself ceased to exist and everything in the future waited for the gravity to settle on this marked instant. Life itself was suspended and my heart swirled within my chest at the beauty tucked within the edges. It was a moment to which I often retreat when the journey ahead seems too big. An account I won’t soon forget: The first time I knew without a doubt adoption was on the horizon.
As a dating couple, my then boyfriend, and I had made our plans for the future. We talked about everything. Discussions on marriage, where we would live and of course the possibility of children. He had said with certainty he wanted children. I was not so convinced. Though I saw myself as a parent, I wasn’t sure I wanted to have children of our own. Desiring to please this man I knew I would one day marry, we compromised: We’d have two, adopt two. An even number. We had our plan. Easy. Done.
Except, not done.
We got married. Enjoyed our honeymoon stage of life. Bought our first house and thought we were finally ready to start our family. Then, of course, is when we experienced the inevitable spill of reality onto our ideal. During both pregnancies an emotional battle raged war within my sensitive heart. The first teetered dangerously close to depression, then slipped over the edge. The second threatened to shred what was left of my fragile being as well, though through the power of the Holy Spirit, I fought with a vigor I hadn’t known the first time. Regardless, I wasn’t convinced we were truly capable of all that comes with adoption and skeptical we were up to the demands. For Pete sake, my fragile self could barely handle what I was often told, “Something women had been doing for thousands of years!” How would I love and raise a child whose only bond with me was artificial?
See, it was a nice little thought. An idea that had been washed out by the rains of real world experience. We now knew reality to be much harder than an ideal, perfectly orchestrated plan. Maybe others could handle it, but I was increasingly skeptical as to whether we could. Or rather, whether I could.
Until the moment…
That day in my car, I drove along with no knowledge of what was coming. I well remember the raindrops on the windows, the chatter coming from the backseat, where we were headed and where we were. All of a sudden, the story traveling the radio waves broke through the distractions and penetrated right to this mother’s, pregnant at the time, emotional heart. The feature wasn’t long. Only a couple of minutes, really. However, it was long enough to plant the seed. Tears streamed down my face as I placed my hand over my growing womb and cast my gaze heavenward. There were so many questions bubbling to the surface. Yet right alongside them, in the midst of an ordinary day, was the distinct knowledge that someday, somewhere there was a child I was meant to mother. A child I wouldn’t hold in my womb like the one present then, but rather one I would carry in my heart until the day came they could be placed in my arms. A child who by any other means may not know love. A child who was meant to call me “Mama.”
It was all too clear in the crux of that time altering moment: Adoption was built into our DNA because God adopted us through the redeeming act of His Son. There may not be a biological link to my soon-to-hold child, but there is a spiritual love link that stretches outside the bonds of chemistry. My heart is already pregnant with the desire to be that child’s mother. It’s already churning, growing in depth and flowing out in each form signed and each dollar spent on this path. Though my fears are still present, they are silenced at the beauty of being chosen for such a time as this.
Just the memory of that moment eases my doubts and fears today, now that the time has finally arrived to pursue a child I have yet to know. One day soon I’ll be rocking my sleeping baby and think back to the moment when love for this child was planted in this mother’s heart. And again, in that moment just as in the first, I’ll again be awed at my great God. Until then, I’ll be walking in close step with the One who knows us both, anxiously awaiting our introduction.
As for this moment, my heart is both full yet aches for my child. In this moment, I’m all too aware the journey ahead is treacherous. Yet in this moment, this very moment, I’m choosing to hope for what is still unseen. And in the hoping, I know without a doubt, I’ll see every answer to our prayers. Until then, I’ll continue to allow the magnitude of the moment to spur us on to what lies ahead. Towards whom is ahead.