This past week I realized that I had not gone into Zaza’s room since we declined the referral on the 18th. After mentioning this to my husband, he suggested I venture back into the golden-yellow oasis of flowers and butterflies and tea sets and dress-up clothes. So I did. Bravely, kind of. Can you be sort of brave?
To my surprise, our son Keeve had moved back in during my absence. His trombone, music stand and he has a bag of his personal items… more commonly referred to as his bag of junk… that scooted back in there and made itself a home. (Hey, it’s better than a bag of hair… anybody seen Fever Pitch?!?) It is a remnant of his days when he slept in the purple bed. It’s a huge lime green with purple polka-dots gift bag that is ripped down one side. We simply never found a home for that stuff when he moved back into the big bedroom with his brother. It’s a good collection of stuff too: a photo of his friend Connor’s orange cat from California, an Iron Man mask, a few magic tricks like the disappearing penny and the three red balls that turn into two, and many hockey cards, some pucks, a few cardboard guitars, marbles and twist-tie necklaces that were made while shopping in the produce section of Walmart. Good stuff!
I’ve never understood the “closing of the nursery door” that so many childless parents go through, until now. I get it… a teeny bit. Nora’s picture is still standing on my desk in a pale green frame. At first, I didn’t even want to look at it, but my husband suggested that we keep it up as a reminder to pray for her and her forever family. She keeps staring at me. Reminding me that we said no. I’ve also come to realize that if we received her referral later in life with none of our kids left at home, we would have accepted it. That soothed my soul, somehow. We weren’t saying NO to her. We were saying NO to right now with these three children still in our care. That soothed my soul too…. somehow.
In the dark of the night, I admitted to my sweet husband that I feel like we’ve gone through nearly four years of adoption emotions, upheaval, paperwork and disappointment to come out with a big fat FAIL. F! I have felt like it’s all over now. We didn’t win. We lost. Game over. I’ve been avoiding the adoption topic in my mind for two weeks.
In reality, we just hit yet another bump in the road to our little girl. But I’m not fully back on the bandwagon yet. I did venture off to a new Bookman’s store in Mesa and found two full shelves of adoption books that I’ve not read yet. (This is what I do in the adoption low periods… I read tales of successful adoptions… reminding me that orphans do get forever families…. mommies do get to kiss soft cheeks… eventually.) I narrowed the pile to five and then to three books. I actually found a book about a family from San Jose, California (where I grew up) that adopted a five-year-old girl from Colombia! It brought many fears and tears to the surface, but it did prepare me a little bit more for our eventual travel… to our daughter.