Yesterday I had a guest blogger post on Trinity Heart about their adoption loss. Reading Melanie’s experience of loosing Mia brought up a lot of memories of our 60 days with Ava. It was truly the most terrifying time of my life and while in some respects the time felt like it flew by, in others, it crawled by at a snails pace.
Everyday I’d mark off on the calendar another day closer to the end of the 60 days. For those who have never been there, you simply cannot imagine what it is like to love this little creature with all of your heart and soul, to love so deeply that it takes your breath away, to love so deeply that I knew I’d stand in front of a speeding train to save her, and yet also live with the knowledge that it would simply take one phone call to destroy me.
I am naturally a worrier. And years of recurrent pregnancy loss had taught me to always expect the worst case scenario. So I lived everyday, waiting to exhale. I lived everyday with a plan of what I’d do should, God forbid, Ava be taken from us. I had every tiny detail worked out. I knew that we’d arrange a rental truck, I pictured how we’d pack up all of her belongings, every single item that we had bought or that had been given to us, her entire bedroom, all of her furniture, toys and clothing and I’d send it all to her BM. I believed that those things were bought for her, not for me and so I felt it was only right that all of her things be sent with her. I pictured in my mind what parting with her would be like. I imagined how I’d be so overwhelmed by grief, I’d literally tear at my hair and crumple on the floor, overcome by sobbing and mourning and how I’d pray and will myself to die.
I imagined how if the pain of her being taken from me did not destroy me, I would contact my Dr and ask him to prescribe sleeping pills for me, under the pretence of not being able to sleep because I was overcome by grief. But what I had planned was to overdose on those sleeping pills and never wake up and have to deal with the pain of her loss.
Reading Melanie’s story yesterday bought back a lot of terrifying memories. I’m terrified of doing it all again with our second placement. I know I will be paralysed with fear the second time too. This time the stakes will be much higher. It’s not just Walter and I who stand to be crushed by the pain of loss, but Ava too. The biggest difference this time is the love that I have for my child. Parenthood changes a person. I would never, could never intentionally do anything that would hurt Ava. I love her too much to leave her motherless. Of course, going into this a second time, I also know now that the old expression is true: I never said it would be easy, I said it would be worth it.
Being Ava’s mother has been worth it. It has been worth every heart break I experienced over my 7+ year journey to her. Anything in life worth having is worth working for. And while I know that I will be just as fearful during the 60 days a second time around, I also know that I cannot, no, will not allow my life to be governed by fear. I will not allow fear to stand in the way of something so beautiful.
I am a warrior woman. Even in the moments when I have felt suffocated by fear, I have NEVER allowed fear to get in the way of something I want and I’m not about to do that now.
Baby van Wyk, wherever you are, know that we love you already, that we are waiting and praying for you and for your birth parents and that we will do anything for you sweet child. That while I may not labour to bring you into the world, I have laboured to bring you into our family. You are wanted and eagerly awaited, not just by me, but by your Daddy and your sister too.