Heartsick and heartbroken

Please forgive me if I am a little self indulgent in this post.

 

Yesterday I had some really rather bad news regarding our adoption which felt like a punch directly to the gut.  It felt like my entire reason for living, being and working so hard these past few months had been whipped away from me – or at least put on uncertain footings, which for a control freak like me, might be even worse.

 

As I have already said, it felt like a body blow getting this news.  Basically, we are in a holding pattern at the moment, waiting for the social worker to finish writing the big report which goes to the adoption panel.  We had been reliably informed that he hadn’t contacted our referees yet, which he needed to do to complete our assessment, so when I was told by the adoption agency decision maker that our social worker has been signed off sick for 2 weeks, it was quite clear to me that we are not going to Adoption Panel in July.

 

I have only just started to allow myself to believe that I am going to be a Mum.  It is so close I can touch it.  But it might as well be on another continent.  We have no idea if or when he is coming back.  I don’t know if the reason for the absence is a serious illness or if it is a terrible chest infection or something.  Of course, I hope he gets better soon, and I can’t blame him for getting ill.  My anger is directed to bigger things.

 

If God is so great and loving and merciful, how come I have to suffer through all of this heartbreak to hold a baby in my arms and call it mine?  If the Universe is so unbounded and full of goodness, how come I can’t just wish to be a Mum and for it to happen? I have done EVERYTHING right; got married before trying to have children, lost weight to be more fertile, I am a practising, church going Christian person, I am a nice person, I am a kind person, I am FULL of maternal love, but none of that appears to be enough.  I have been unrelentingly positive about everything and STILL IT ISN’T ENOUGH.

 

Please don’t trot out the platitudes about “There must be a plan” and “It will all come right in the end” or worse yet “Your babies aren’t ready for you yet”  because from where I am sitting there doesn’t seem to be any light at the end of this particular tunnel.  I have been waiting for 11 years to be a Mum and I am not sure how much longer I can wait.  Or what other obstacle I can clamber over to get to my goal.

 

I am also not ready to give up yet either.  If I can’t be a Mum, then I honestly don’t know what I am on this earth to do.  Take that hope away from me, and I am just an empty shell.  Even the Herbalism and Life Coaching studies were a vehicle for working for myself so that I could structure working around children.  There is no reason for breathing if I can’t be a Mother.

 

But why does it have to be so hard?

 

I am still wallowing in my upset at the moment.  I suspect I will be doing this for some time yet.  I also confidently expect to dissolve into tears at the drop of a hat.  So far a recalcitrant light switch has done it this morning, and I am sure there are more of them to come.  I think if I can get myself out of this, using the life coaching techniques I have learnt, then maybe I can be a testament to their effectiveness.

 

Or something like that.

 

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