Grief

I have been walking around like a zombie.  I have been wondering how it is possible to feel so much sadness and loss for a child that was never mine.  I have been thinking that I am overreacting.  Why do I need to miss work?  Why do I need to hide?  Will people think I am being ridiculous?  Dramatic? After all, I said I wasn't going to get excited.  I said I wasn't going to get attached.  I tried.  I prepared for this situation, even though it would never happen. It didn't matter.

Naturally, I am a happy extrovert.  I like to share news (good and bad) about myself with the people who care about me.  I am the first one to overshare and I am so open with my life.   I like to see people happy and excited.  I loved that my daughter was so ready for a little sister.  I loved that we were planning baby's first trip to Disney.

Do I regret any of that now?  A little.  Mostly, I wish I would have let myself feel the joy for a few weeks instead of so much worry.  I tried to guard myself by not feeling the excitement, but it didn't work anyway.  Now I feel so much pain.

What I keep reading is that this is like any grieving process - but not.  This is the grief of losing someone that still exists in the world. 

I keep thinking of what I SHOULD be doing right now.  I should be exhausted from being up all night with a newborn.  There should be piles of laundry and tons of dirty diapers.  Alice should be learning how to be a big sister.  Those things are happening - just not here.  With someone else.  I wonder what her name is.  I wonder what she will grow up to be like.  I will always wonder these things, and a part of me will always mourn this loss.


I have spent the few days reaching out to an adoption support group, to our local social worker, and to the internet.  I have googled the phrase "failed adoption" more times than I can count.
I have heard story after story from fellow adoptive moms that are just as heartbreaking and more heartbreaking than my own.  They have brought me some comfort.  That is why I am writing everything in this blog.  I am hoping that someday, maybe my words can bring a grieving adoptive mother or father a little comfort.  Maybe she will realize that she is not alone and that her feelings are VALID.


What I am trying to make myself believe now is this:  it's okay to feel the way I feel.  It IS the loss of a child.  It IS the loss of an idea of what our family was going to be.  I am NOT being dramatic.  I can feel and act however I want.  It IS okay for me to hide.  I hide behind words: text messages, facebook messages, e-mail.  That's how I am coping.  And I appreciate all the texts and messages that I have gotten - I truly do.  Don't stop.  Mike and I have an amazing support system. 

As I said, "everything happens for a reason", and maybe this reason is so someone else will read this one day and feel an ounce of comfort during this horrific time.

Heartbroken

I was gearing up to write a post about how nervous and excited and happy and scared I was.  Instead, I get to write this:

I see people post about failed adoptions all the time.  My heart has broken for those families over and over.  But now we are that family.  Failed. Adoption.  My heart is broken now, but for us.

Things had been going great over the past few weeks.  We had a few lunches and doctor appointments with the birthmom.  We joked around all the time.  She liked us.  We had a plan.  She wanted us in the delivery room.  I bought all the things to make her hospital stay more comfortable.  I loaded my ipad with her favorite shows.  The baby's room was ready.  We had new clothes, bottles, blankets.  We were ready.  Alice was SO excited to meet "her baby". 

But today, we got the call we never wanted.  Birthmom had changed her mind. Without going into specifics, there was only a TINY chance that she would change her mind.  But she did.  She had the baby a few days ago.  The baby is with a foster family right now (with her biological half-sister).  Birthmom is hoping she will be able to parent both children eventually.  Is there a chance things can change still?  Maybe.  That might be the hardest part.  I can't let go yet.

This is why I tried to stay neutral and tried to not get excited.  I tried not to attach myself to this baby.  Turns out, I was more attached than I thought.

I have cried.  I have stared into a room that should have a baby in it.  I've bagged up everything to return to stores tomorrow.  I've stopped planning for maternity leave.

I have all this sadness and all this anger.  But I have no one to blame it on.  I can't fault the mother for wanting to try to parent her child, even if I don't think it's the best choice. 

So for now, I let myself be sad.  I let myself be angry.  I let myself feel.

I have always said that everything happens for a reason and I truly believe that, even now.  I just want to know the reason.