April 16th

Today is the anniversary of the day we lost our hopes and dreams, the day I miscarried my first and, so far, only pregnancy.  It was the darkest day of my life.

Today is the day we reclaim our hopes and dreams, the day we officially begin the process of one day – soon – meeting our baby. Today I placed into the mail our application to enter the infant adoption programs at Christian Family Adoptions.

I’ve made note of ominous or superstitious days in this blog before, and so far they’ve panned out very unsuccessfully.  So what is the difference this time? One comment, almost glossed over, made by the CFA program coordinator during the info session we recently attended:

Every couple that has stuck with the program has eventually had a successful adoption. 

And there’s also this:

CFA considers 2 years to be a “very long wait” to complete the process. 

Based on these two facts alone, I can confidently assert that, while we are just opening the door on our next opportunity, we are finally beginning to see the end of the path that has taken us close enough to walk through that door.  And at that end, we will finally meet our child.

This is the only thing that matters. Not the costs, not the rigorous evaluation of our suitability as parents, not the training and not the waiting. We are resilient, we are determined, and we are seasoned veterans when it comes to this character-shaping period in our lives.  These are the qualities that will lead us to our baby. Two years is nothing to stick out when it comes to the lifetime ahead of us. 

And everything we’ve been through – and everything to come – has simply been to develop the deepest, unspeakable appreciation we will have for the soul that will one day call us mommy and daddy.

April 16th. Everything in me wanted to skip over this day, forget it is even on the calendar. That is until recently. My perspective is now altered – I’m allowed to change my mind, right? Now I want to hold this date forever in my heart.

  

Let me explain.

It was a sweet, unlooked-for gesture that prompted me to rethink April 16th. My acupuncturist – my hand-holder, my objective sounding wall, my friend – gave me a fertility stone at my last appointment.  One of four, she said.  It is small and simple, yet humbly beautiful in its crystalline and mineral appearance.  Perhaps made even more so in my eyes because to me this stone will serve as a reminder of where I’ve been and what I’ve experienced to get to this point.  I am having it made into a necklace, which I will wear over my heart.  It shall be a link between that which we lost and that which we shall soon receive. When I wear it, I will remember the lows, the darkness, the pain, and in doing so, sharpen the joy and happiness now peaking over our horizon.

And so when I woke up this April 16th, I began to think about what this day means to me in the light this recent gift. And I realize now that my personal victory will be found in turning April 16th into another fertility stone to carry with me into and throughout motherhood.  Another reminder of just how lucky we are. Another reminder to never take our child for granted. An assurance to the woman who will give birth to our baby that we truly, completely understand the selfless act she is committing and that there are no two people who could be more grateful and therefore no two people who will work harder to be worthy of her sacrifice.

It is amazing what a year can do.  I am still facing a lifetime of April 16ths, but that idea no longer wilts my spirit. My April 16ths will now be a testament to dreams lost and refound, to silver-lining revelations, to parents whose paths to their babies don’t quite fit the mold, and to selfless acts of love making the just-out-of-reach finally attainable.