2

Devastation

Our birth mother backed out.

We had our home study completed on Monday, December 15th based on the Birth Mother’s assurances just a week prior. I had even spoken with her Social Worker on Monday morning.  We had an appointment scheduled with our attorney Monday afternoon.

Then, about 2:15 Monday afternoon, the Social Worker from the hospital called and asked if she had called or texted me.  I told her I had not heard from her since our last conversation when she promised 100% that she wasn’t changing her mind.  The next sentence she said rings in my ears, “She has decided to keep the baby.”  I was stunned, to say the least.

Hubby had already left town for a work trip (literally moments after our homestudy was complete). I called and told him.  Numb still.  He called and talked to our Social Worker and took care of the details of our homestudy being processed.  I called and cancelled the appointment with our lawyer. And then I was just mad. As days pass, the anger turns to hurt. Hurt into resentment.  Resentment into physical pain.  Physical pain into emotional withdrawal.  And so on.  Hubby’s work has had him away this whole week; and our home is deafeningly (?) silent.

Friends and family have been so encouraging.  Most know me well enough to know when I am this far in, it’s best not to expect too much from me.  My house has been untouched since Monday. Errands and the like have been abandoned.  It was all I could do to care for our rabbits, much less myself. I returned to work tonight, my normal shift.  So many co-workers excited, as it is nearing the 2 week mark until we were supposed to have our baby.  I am tired of answering the questions. I am thankful they care. It’s a delicate balance between being angry with the situation and angry that people care. I realize, fully, it’s unfair to be angry at anyone other than the one responsible.  But even then, I face judgment and condemnation for expressing my anger toward her.

Why shouldn’t the parent-to-be of an adoptive child not have the right to be mad? Hurt? Angry? Whatever else the gammet of emotions may run. And why should I have to bite my tongue for fear of upsetting the birth mother? I feel it’s perfectly warranted for her to know the emotional implications of changing her mind at the last minute.  Truth be told, she probably doesn’t care. But it would still help my heart to be able to freely express my emotions to her. Instead, I hold them in. Waiting for a safe person to spew venom. And ever so appreciative of those few people who allow me to be ugly. And ungodly. Honest and real. Thank you, girls, you know who you are.

If I could ask you, please keep us in your thoughts and prayer. God knows the condition of our hearts. And it is going to be friends like you that help us (me, particularly) get back on my feet with my head looking forward. It’s a long road to go. And I’ve yet to make my first step.

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