We were young and in love. The bleak truth staring both of us in the face was that we may never have biological children. As the oldest of six children in a loving family, this reality crippled my joy. How would the dreams and expectations I had for our future together ever come to be?
You see, since I was a little girl, all I ever really wanted was to have, and hold, and raise my babies. I had names. I had plans. I had a picture of our beautiful “brood” in my mind. The white picket fence with our children laughing and playing inside of it. The dining room table with all my “littles” seated ’round it. Story time. Music time. Teaching them all about Jesus. Wiping away their tears and cleaning their snotty noses. And none of it seemed possible, thanks to my irksome endocrine system.
While I was devastated, my strong husband was very much at peace with the whole “problem”. Before marriage we had talked for many hours about the fact that adopting children was something with which we were in complete agreement. We believed that together, we were made and created to bring orphans to their forever home with us. We heartily determined that we would act on it someday.
After six years of marriage, many visits to various OB/Gyn’s, Endocrinologists and specialists, I was finally diagnosed with a severe case of endometriosis. Upon healing from outpatient surgery, I was overjoyed to live my life and go about daily activities free from the pain that had plagued me for so long. We were told that the best chance of conceiving was within a year of the procedure.
A year came and went. Another year went by. And still, I was not pregnant. We began our plans of adoption – only to find out we finally WERE pregnant and expecting our miracle daughter! (More to come on that incredible story of God’s faithfulness later).
When our beautiful daughter was two years old, we started up the adoption process again. And then, the unthinkable: our plans fell through. The nursery was ready. Our family was ready. But the timing wasn’t right. After coming so close to having and holding child number two, I was heartsick. I went through all the grief and emotions of miscarriage, which I had (on several occasions), previously experienced.
Then early one morning during my quiet time, I saw a picture in my mind of a little girl. I knew she was the daughter we had to find and bring home. (I look forward to sharing all the details about that unforgettable and pivotal moment in time, in a future post). We began to pray faithfully as a family, for this daughter and sister of ours. That was eight years ago. Fast forward to today, and we are in the process of adopting an eight-year old daughter from Ukraine. Coincidence? I think not!
An adoption conference, countless hours in prayer, much counsel and conversation, many books, articles, blog posts, videos and copious volumes of research along with an outpouring of support from friends and family later, we’ve finally reached the point in our journey where we are only months away from our daughter finally coming home.
We are older. And even more in love. And finally, the beginning stage of adoption is part of our story. God has given me joy, excitement and contentment with HIS plan for our family. We have a photo. We have a name. And we are getting everything ready and in place for our daughter and sister to finally be with us.
To be continued…
~ Justina DeeShare this post:by