In this time of waiting, I can’t help but entertain my imagination.
I imagine the call. We are both home, sleeping, when it rings. I jump up to answer it, positive it is, in fact, “the” call. Our child has already been born! And she is waiting for us in a hospital five hours away. We eagerly, silently pack, our hands shaking as we load the car with the suitcase, the baby bin, the car seat. It’s 3:00 AM, and we’re groggy yet painfully awake. For once in my life, I care not about the three cups of strong, black coffee that normally call routine. It’s “go” time, and coffee can wait.
There is snow on the ground, and we have to be careful as we drive, turning the customary five hours into six. I’m on edge, and Honey Dude is caressing my back as I drive. We are silent. There is nothing to say. Our hearts are breaking for joy and excitement, the bottled up love ready to erupt.
We meet her and fall in love. We hold her and hug her birthmother, who is crying. My pain for her is fierce. Suddenly, I’m crying, too. Ugly tears filled with all of the pain and longing pent up over four years, having waited for this moment for so very long.
The good dream would end here and lead to further excitement: first bottle feeding, baby-wearing, reading dozens of stories, even sleepless nights.
The nightmare would continue with birthmom changing her mind, deciding to parent. In time, I might understand that it was good. But in those first moments, days, months, I would grieve and struggle. I would not understand, nor would I want to.
But eventually, my sorrow would melt into joy and my heart would be full again. Not because of a child, but because I will understand that God is God and I am not. I will understand that His plan exceeds even the best version of a dream I could imagine. So I hope for this understanding to come swiftly, no matter what the outcome, no matter what the journey.
Guard my heart, oh Lord, that I might remain steadfast in faith, in hope, in love.