Face the Fear and Do It Anyway: J once had to read a book for a sociology class with this title. I don't remember much about the book itself, except that it was not much more than a bunch of psycho-babble, but the title has stuck with me for years. I remember it at times when I am feeling scared or uncertain.
Tonight is one of those times. I'm actually debating what to write or how to write it, because as of yet I'm uncertain just how personal I want this blog to be. How deeply do I want to reveal myself, even to my family and friends?
J is gone every Tuesday night, taking a class for a job certification test next month. He is gone quite a bit with his bishopric calling, but this class has added to the toll of it all. We are all counting the weeks till the class is done.
Anyway, it seems like on the nights when I am home with the kids more than normal, everything seems more wearisome. Parenthood seems wearisome after 5:00 pm on a normal day, and knowing that I have to do bedtime by myself makes it seem even more so. Feeling tired in one way--physical--often has the effect of making me feel tired in every way. And it seems like feeling tired usually leads to feeling lots of other things too, most of them not so positive.
This class is a positive thing for J. In spite of the sacrifices we are making for him to take it, it is something that we have known he's needed to do for a long time. The certification test he will be taking will hopefully open more career doors for him. This is an exciting prospect, but in some ways a frightening one, as I wonder where we will be (literally and figuratively) a year from now.
A couple of weeks ago we had our intake for our homestudy for adoption #3. The interview itself was old hat. We've done this twice before--we know both the questions and their answers. We were not nervous at all. We sat and laughed as we talked with the social worker. We had a blast telling her about our hilarious children and their antics. She said she can't wait to meet them! It was like shooting the breeze--so different from that first interview 8 years ago.
It's been an interesting process coming around to adoption #3. I don't think we've ever felt any strong prompting to "get it done now" or anything like that. It's been more a logical step. Though S is still young, we're NOT young. We know that realistically we can't put this off forever. It's just seemed like the right time to get going. Even so, I've had a lot of fears about the reality of parenting another baby--especially about the reality of going for yet another few years with no sleep. As we've proceeded, it's felt very right to be doing this, and I've felt more and more comforted that as far as parenting is concerned, everything will work out. I'm actually getting more and more excited and peaceful about the idea of having another child. So how come the paperwork has been sitting on our bookcase for over two weeks, untouched? Every day I think that I should get started on it, but it hasn't happened yet. We have adoption education classes coming up in just a week and a half, and I think that is a great deadline to have all the paperwork done and turned in. But here I sit blogging instead of working on it.
I realized tonight how scared I am, not of another baby anymore, but of the process of getting one here. Maybe it's actually the "not being scared of another baby" that makes me scared of the process. If I'm actually excited and looking forward to another baby, then the reality hits that I have to go through this danged adoption process to get to that point. Wanting another baby brings out all the hurts in not knowing when, or how, or what kind of adoption it will be, or whether there will be losses along the way. Tonight it has been hitting me just how unknown all of this is. It could be two months or two years. Or never. It could mean a picture perfect LDS Family Services adoption--or it could mean moving on to another type of adoption or another agency. It could mean another birth mother who wants little contact, or it could mean one who needs more than we feel we can give--or it could mean the absolute perfect birth family situation. Will it mean failed adoptions? Will it mean legal risks with angry and pushy paternal birth-grandmothers? Will it mean letting go of dreams of another newborn to bring an older child into our family? How will be pay for it? Do we check the box marked "twins" on the preference sheet, knowing it would mean a double fee? I don't even want twins. But would we be shutting out a blessing from the Lord by not checking that box? Or other boxes? The possibilities are endless, and I know nothing. Nothing. All I know is that we have felt prompted to take that first step into the darkness. And it most definitely feels like the nothingness of uncertainty--a total wilderness. I don't mean wilderness in a bad way. I mean wilderness in the sense of you just have no idea at all what's out there ahead.
Part of me secretly wishes for the semi-security pregnancy. No decisions--it just happens. Sure there are a variety of experiences, challenges, and outcomes, but at least they can be contained in one somewhat narrow chamber of expectations. Adoption is all over the place. Anything is possible, it seems. Possibilities too numerous to even comprehend. I can't even think about it too much or it becomes completely overwhelming.
I don't remember feeling this scared the first two times. With our first adoption, I was too naive to be scared. All I knew is that it was the solution to all the aching emptiness that childlessness had brought upon me. My father-in-law always said that a change is as good as a rest, and in this case it was. At first. Two years later I was not so sure. But D came and changed all that and made every minute of it worth it. With our second adoption, we got thrown into the process in such a way that we didn't have a chance to ask these kinds of questions--until the designated adoption that brought us there failed. But even then, I don't remember feeling so scared. I probably was--time heals most everything, including memories.
This time around I am far from naive. I think that's the problem--I know that's the problem. I know the hardships we've been through and what can happen in the adoption process. I also know the ones we haven't been through, and what can happen in the adoption process. But it's more than that. I know in a very un-naive way that some of the pains and losses of infertility still remain. Some questions are still unanswered. A few things are left un-healed, for purposes known only unto God. What will this adoption bring, both in terms of good and bad experiences along the way, and also in terms of personal growth and personal healing? On a specific note, will I finally feel healing through nursing a baby, or will I heal through not nursing a baby and realizing that it doesn't matter?
Through all of this, I realize how much I love my kids and what miracles they are. They truly are a balm. I have resolved lately to spend more time just looking into their eyes and feeling the wonder of who they are, and the joy of the love they give to me, as well as the love I get to give to them. This is what has particularly excited me about getting to love a third baby.
Back to the title of the book: General Conference has made me think a lot about faith, hope, prayer, and listening to the Spirit. I think fear is a normal human emotion, but the Lord wants us to look forward with faith and take those steps anyway. Faith both replaces and overcomes fear, but just like pain and joy, we have to taste fear in order to truly know and appreciate the feeling of faith. I have felt more strongly that ever in the past few days that the Lord has a plan for our family and for our children. I just have to trust that His plan is far more wonderful than any plan I could devise for myself, no matter how great I think my plan is. That sounds funny right now, because honestly, I don't have a plan of my own. I used to have plans. I've had many plans over the years, almost none of which have come to fruition. This time I don't have a plan, but not necessarily because I've been so great at giving life over to the Lord. No, the reasons are unfortunately far more cynical than that. But deep down, I do know that the Lord is in charge.
When I stopped nursing S, I did so knowing that it was the right decision and the right time, and knowing that it meant I had to trust God that everything would be alright and I would have NO regrets about that choice. This is no different--it's the right decision and the right time, now come the trust part. Everything will be alright. Wonderful things are in store! Faith is a happy thing, a strengthening and peace-bringing thing, and I am eager to draw from such a resource.
Homestudy, here we come!
Tonight is one of those times. I'm actually debating what to write or how to write it, because as of yet I'm uncertain just how personal I want this blog to be. How deeply do I want to reveal myself, even to my family and friends?
J is gone every Tuesday night, taking a class for a job certification test next month. He is gone quite a bit with his bishopric calling, but this class has added to the toll of it all. We are all counting the weeks till the class is done.
Anyway, it seems like on the nights when I am home with the kids more than normal, everything seems more wearisome. Parenthood seems wearisome after 5:00 pm on a normal day, and knowing that I have to do bedtime by myself makes it seem even more so. Feeling tired in one way--physical--often has the effect of making me feel tired in every way. And it seems like feeling tired usually leads to feeling lots of other things too, most of them not so positive.
This class is a positive thing for J. In spite of the sacrifices we are making for him to take it, it is something that we have known he's needed to do for a long time. The certification test he will be taking will hopefully open more career doors for him. This is an exciting prospect, but in some ways a frightening one, as I wonder where we will be (literally and figuratively) a year from now.
A couple of weeks ago we had our intake for our homestudy for adoption #3. The interview itself was old hat. We've done this twice before--we know both the questions and their answers. We were not nervous at all. We sat and laughed as we talked with the social worker. We had a blast telling her about our hilarious children and their antics. She said she can't wait to meet them! It was like shooting the breeze--so different from that first interview 8 years ago.
It's been an interesting process coming around to adoption #3. I don't think we've ever felt any strong prompting to "get it done now" or anything like that. It's been more a logical step. Though S is still young, we're NOT young. We know that realistically we can't put this off forever. It's just seemed like the right time to get going. Even so, I've had a lot of fears about the reality of parenting another baby--especially about the reality of going for yet another few years with no sleep. As we've proceeded, it's felt very right to be doing this, and I've felt more and more comforted that as far as parenting is concerned, everything will work out. I'm actually getting more and more excited and peaceful about the idea of having another child. So how come the paperwork has been sitting on our bookcase for over two weeks, untouched? Every day I think that I should get started on it, but it hasn't happened yet. We have adoption education classes coming up in just a week and a half, and I think that is a great deadline to have all the paperwork done and turned in. But here I sit blogging instead of working on it.
I realized tonight how scared I am, not of another baby anymore, but of the process of getting one here. Maybe it's actually the "not being scared of another baby" that makes me scared of the process. If I'm actually excited and looking forward to another baby, then the reality hits that I have to go through this danged adoption process to get to that point. Wanting another baby brings out all the hurts in not knowing when, or how, or what kind of adoption it will be, or whether there will be losses along the way. Tonight it has been hitting me just how unknown all of this is. It could be two months or two years. Or never. It could mean a picture perfect LDS Family Services adoption--or it could mean moving on to another type of adoption or another agency. It could mean another birth mother who wants little contact, or it could mean one who needs more than we feel we can give--or it could mean the absolute perfect birth family situation. Will it mean failed adoptions? Will it mean legal risks with angry and pushy paternal birth-grandmothers? Will it mean letting go of dreams of another newborn to bring an older child into our family? How will be pay for it? Do we check the box marked "twins" on the preference sheet, knowing it would mean a double fee? I don't even want twins. But would we be shutting out a blessing from the Lord by not checking that box? Or other boxes? The possibilities are endless, and I know nothing. Nothing. All I know is that we have felt prompted to take that first step into the darkness. And it most definitely feels like the nothingness of uncertainty--a total wilderness. I don't mean wilderness in a bad way. I mean wilderness in the sense of you just have no idea at all what's out there ahead.
Part of me secretly wishes for the semi-security pregnancy. No decisions--it just happens. Sure there are a variety of experiences, challenges, and outcomes, but at least they can be contained in one somewhat narrow chamber of expectations. Adoption is all over the place. Anything is possible, it seems. Possibilities too numerous to even comprehend. I can't even think about it too much or it becomes completely overwhelming.
I don't remember feeling this scared the first two times. With our first adoption, I was too naive to be scared. All I knew is that it was the solution to all the aching emptiness that childlessness had brought upon me. My father-in-law always said that a change is as good as a rest, and in this case it was. At first. Two years later I was not so sure. But D came and changed all that and made every minute of it worth it. With our second adoption, we got thrown into the process in such a way that we didn't have a chance to ask these kinds of questions--until the designated adoption that brought us there failed. But even then, I don't remember feeling so scared. I probably was--time heals most everything, including memories.
This time around I am far from naive. I think that's the problem--I know that's the problem. I know the hardships we've been through and what can happen in the adoption process. I also know the ones we haven't been through, and what can happen in the adoption process. But it's more than that. I know in a very un-naive way that some of the pains and losses of infertility still remain. Some questions are still unanswered. A few things are left un-healed, for purposes known only unto God. What will this adoption bring, both in terms of good and bad experiences along the way, and also in terms of personal growth and personal healing? On a specific note, will I finally feel healing through nursing a baby, or will I heal through not nursing a baby and realizing that it doesn't matter?
Through all of this, I realize how much I love my kids and what miracles they are. They truly are a balm. I have resolved lately to spend more time just looking into their eyes and feeling the wonder of who they are, and the joy of the love they give to me, as well as the love I get to give to them. This is what has particularly excited me about getting to love a third baby.
Back to the title of the book: General Conference has made me think a lot about faith, hope, prayer, and listening to the Spirit. I think fear is a normal human emotion, but the Lord wants us to look forward with faith and take those steps anyway. Faith both replaces and overcomes fear, but just like pain and joy, we have to taste fear in order to truly know and appreciate the feeling of faith. I have felt more strongly that ever in the past few days that the Lord has a plan for our family and for our children. I just have to trust that His plan is far more wonderful than any plan I could devise for myself, no matter how great I think my plan is. That sounds funny right now, because honestly, I don't have a plan of my own. I used to have plans. I've had many plans over the years, almost none of which have come to fruition. This time I don't have a plan, but not necessarily because I've been so great at giving life over to the Lord. No, the reasons are unfortunately far more cynical than that. But deep down, I do know that the Lord is in charge.
When I stopped nursing S, I did so knowing that it was the right decision and the right time, and knowing that it meant I had to trust God that everything would be alright and I would have NO regrets about that choice. This is no different--it's the right decision and the right time, now come the trust part. Everything will be alright. Wonderful things are in store! Faith is a happy thing, a strengthening and peace-bringing thing, and I am eager to draw from such a resource.
Homestudy, here we come!
Comments
I like your quote!