Dear waiting adoptive mom,
Today was hard—I saw you. I saw as your eyes followed the baby through the room, how your eyes darted between the people. The joy of a new baby—someone else’s baby—and the pain of your bleeding heart. I saw your eyes avoid the scene, your shoulders fall, and the sadness of your sigh. You avoided the joy, but I saw you and said a prayer for you today.
It’s been a long road marked with scheduled sex, lost romance, failed fertility, and stepping out into a new unknown—adoption. They said adopt, and you thought the road might be easier, but it’s been years and you’re still sitting. Still waiting.
Still watching new babies and praying your day will come.
I know your pain. I know those hard days when you allow yourself to open Pandora’s box and the tears come—the bitterness and the loneliness. And you ask why. And you cling to the hope that just maybe, maybe your day will come tomorrow.
But tomorrow is not today. I know, sweet momma, and you are not alone today.
I want to remind you in the middle of your tears—your wait will be worth it.
You are surrounded by women who have gone before you, who have trod that path in a barren field of lost hope. Keep walking. Keep moving forward. Move through every test, every interview. Move through every question and share your adoptive story.
Don’t be afraid to check on your file again. Don’t be afraid to send another profile, to try another path, another agency, another center. Don’t be afraid to cry, to have a bad day. Don’t ever believe those who love you, don’t care—they just don’t know how to help or what to say. No matter what don’t give up. Don’t stop believing your day will come, that your baby will come.
Your story is beautiful, and it’s unique.
It’s what sets you apart for that one moment when your paths cross with that one mother who is carrying a child she cannot keep. She will find you and she will see your beauty. And the very thing you thought made you unique will unite you to a woman in a different world with a different story, and your hearts will be tied as one.
It’s worth the fight. It’s worth the pain.
The moments and the waiting will reveal themselves in every coo and every giggle. The curl of fingers around yours will erase the pain deep in your womb. And you will remember a time when you despaired, believing healing would never come. You’ll learn that a healed heart numbs the pain of what ifs. And your day will come.
And on that day you will walk into the room with your eyes sparkling, your arms full, and the sound of laughter that only the love a new baby can bring.
I see you today, and I am praying for your tomorrow.