In a perfect world, one before the fall, there wouldn’t be adoption. In the very beginning in the Garden of Eden, it was just the Father and His children, walking together in the cool of the day. Perfect intimacy. Deep friendship. Just a Dad and His kids.
And then the kids wondered if He was really all they needed. We know the rest of the story, Eve ate the fruit, and the relationship between the Father and His children was broken.
Adoption starts from brokenness.
My brokenness. That looked like an empty womb. Month after month, year after painful year, of seeing negative pregnancy tests. It was failed infertility treatments and a really broken heart and tired body.
Her brokenness. Seeing a positive pregnancy test without the capacity to give her baby what she knew was best.
But, what the enemy steals from us because of the fall, the Father always restores. He always wins. Every single time. Adoption is at the very heart of the gospel. Strangers, far away from the heart of the Father, brought near into His family as sons. Orphans without hope or future, now sons with inheritance and a new last name.
You should know, adoption is when brokenness and hope collide. When redemption rain begins to fall in the desert of pain. It’s when beauty rises up from the ashes of each of our stories. And a little baby that begins as a stranger becomes my very heartbeat
You should know adoption is messy.
It isn’t all rainbows and butterflies. It’s getting stares in the grocery store because my family doesn’t look like yours. Or that time the little boy at the park asked my son why his mommy didn’t have skin like his. It gets messy when I try to explain to my three year old, once again, that she didn’t grow in my belly.
But adoption is really beautiful when I got to watch my son’s face light up when he told the little boy at the park that families don’t have to look like each other to be families, they are only built by love. It’s so beautiful when my three year old sees a pregnant belly and reminds me that although she didn’t grow in my belly, she grew in my heart.
You should know adoption is hard.
I didn’t give birth to my babies, but I labored with them just the same. It looked more like paperwork and home studies rather than contractions and pushing. My labor for them lasted way longer than nine months. I only wish an epidural would have eased the pain that ached as I waited on them and another day passed without them in my arms.
But you should also know every minute of hard was worth it.
Changing diapers, making bottles, putting them in car seats, all of those normal things became to me so holy. They are the middle moments I prayed for and wanted for so long. When my daughter is all clean and cozy in her pajamas and I rock her before she drifts off to sleep, there isn’t a night that goes by I don’t remember the wait. And think about how she is incredibly worth every second.
Adoption is broken and messy and hard. But it is just as much redemptive and beautiful and worth it.
These faces are so worth it.