There is a lot of waiting in life, unfortunately. Just about everyone goes through a period of waiting. Waiting for a pregnancy, spouse or job. Waiting for a doctors update, or to hear back from a college. Waiting for a house, direction, or answer, we spend a lot of our lives waiting.
I adore Dr. Seuss. In one of my favorite books of his, “Oh the Place You’ll Go” there is a quote I like about waiting:
“You can get so confused, that you’ll start in to race down long wiggled roads at a break-necking pace and grind on for miles across weirdest-wild space, headed, I fear, towards a most useless place. The Waiting Place.”
I find myself in the most useless place of waiting.
Some people are better at the waiting game than others; it has never been a strong suit of mine. I think there are two main categories of why waiting is so hard for most people; life doesn’t stop, and yet, in some ways it’s seems to a complete halt.
In the adoption process we have found this to be true as well. With being firmly planted in the waiting place, and with the length of waiting being lengthened; here is how we have felt the affects of these two dichotomies:
Life is on hold:
When we started the process Kyrgyzstan was cranking out referrals. Mind you it had only been open less than a year, but kid after kid was being referred out of orphanages. You could typically get a referral in 1-2 months after submitting dossier during the first year it was open.
Just before submitting dossier, we thought it was realistic to have a referral by the end of May.
Then we submitted our dossier (in February), and while things slowed, it still seemed likely that we would have a referral before my kids went back to school.
Now mid-fall is seeming to be a more realistic timeline to get a referral, and even that isn’t for sure, thanks to the newness and unpredictability of the system. Plus once we receive the referral, we still have a 4-6 month travel process to go through.
Lots of life is on hold, or waiting for answers we don’t have. Sign ups and tryouts are coming for things like travel baseball and soccer, and I don’t know what we can swing and when we can swing it. There are sign ups in the fall for bible studies, community groups and a slew of other things, and our default answer is having to be “no” or “I don’t know”, because at any moment we could get a call that could change it all. Or we could not.
Financially it’s been a challenge too. The tricky part about tax exemption and adoption is that you don’t get to claim it until you bring the child home. So despite the bulk of our financial expense will happen this year, unless she is in country by the new year, we aren’t exempt from any of our spendings. Which is kind of a lot. When we went into this, and turnaround was happening quickly, we thought we would be ok if we got her home by the end of the year. Now that it is unlikely we will do so, we are having to get creative.
So we make decisions to the best of our ability, and trust God to work out the timing. We may not know what is going to happen when but thankfully, He does.
Then to be totally transparent…I can’t even really think about her specifically. I just have to shut my mind down, and almost become numb when I have to talk about her. If I start to think about her, her circumstances, or what she may be experiencing, I kind of start spiraling downwards, and so it’s easiest to just put up a mental block and pray when my mind goes there. If not I end up doing things like crying in Hobby Lobby while picking out art for her room, and then it’s just awkward for everyone.
Life doesn’t stop:
One of the other challenges of waiting has been that while we feel like we are in a holding pattern, we aren’t. Life keeps moving and the world keeps spinning, When we started the adoption process, I had a very dependent 3 year old. Our freedom to do things as a family was still a bit limited, and more in the “I have to watch their every move” phase. It’s been amazing to me how things have shifted this year. In just a year the amount of independence and capability my kids have has significantly changed. We are officially entering the “next phase” of parenthood, where there aren’t tinies and there is a lot more freedom to do activities and not revolve around nap and eating schedules. I’ve been loving it. And that scares me.
For the first summer, I’ve had chunks of time where I can get things done BY MYSELF. WITHOUT the TV or video games being used as a babysitter while I get said things done. I painted a room!!! With three kids at home!!! So basically, I feel like I can conquer the world now.
The kids play together, or read books. I can have conversations with friends when we get together. They have learned to entertain themselves, and it’s been SO wonderful. But again, it kind of scares me. Because I know once we bring our daughter home, all that goes out the window. I’m back to basically the newborn phase during the first few months, and even going forward there needs to be infant like care (despite the fact she will probably be three) due to what she has lost out on, and to help facilitate attachment. The more I settle into this new found freedom in motherhood, the more I know it’s going to be hard to give up.
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A few page flips later Dr. Seuss states “Somehow you’ll escape all that waiting and staying. You’ll find the bright places where Boom Bands are playing.”
While I am looking forward to being out of the Waiting Place, I’m also trying to find the bright spots where the boom bands are playing in the midst of the waiting. Because unfortunately, the waiting place is inevitable in life. And while we may want to wish ourselves out of the Waiting Place, and past it, it’s in the process (and often the waiting) that most of life happens.
I’ve been soaking up time as a family of 5. Squeezing in extra snuggles and cuddles. Trying to take extra runs. I’m giving myself permission to read lots of books without feeling guilty about the undone laundry. I’m continuing to research and prepare for her arrival, and I’m putting the finishing touches on her room. I’m trying to enjoy the moment without freaking out about what’s to come.
I think the art in waiting is (as with all things) balance. Not twiddling your thumbs waiting for the next whatever, and not rushing through the waiting dismissing the process and life that happens there. I’m a rusher, and to slow down and see this intentional, God-given time as a gift has taken probably a decade of missing a lot of life in the rushing. While I look forward to the life that is to come, I’m also enjoying the life that is. Even if waiting sucks.
