healing

There are times in our lives that are defining moments - graduations, weddings, deaths of loved ones, birth of our children, the list is endless. These times contain glimpses and memories that will likely stick with us forever - sights, sounds, smells from those days. I will remember standing by my high school best friend as we stood on the stage at graduation together and laughed as we waited for the last name to be called, the look on my wife's face when we saw each other for the first time on our wedding day, the sweet sound of singing "It Is Well" as my father-in-law breathed his last breath, the sound of my baby boy cooing as he was placed in my arms for the first time on his Gotcha Day. For better and for worse, these moments have defined my life.

I will also remember the long fingers and dark head of hair of another boy who was placed in my arms. He cooed and curled into my arms for hours as we got to know him, his birth mother, and her mother one Monday in May. I will also remember the phone ringing later that week and knowing in my soul by my wife's tone that this birth mother had decided to parent. I remember the sound of sobs as we sat and rocked together. I remember the determination in my wife's eyes as we moved the baby items to the shed. I remember our church family rallying around us with prayers, hugs, and support the next morning in our worship service. I will remember specific words that were spoken to me, faces from that day, songs that we sang.

I remember the dark place I went to in the weeks that followed. With my final class of grad school, a week of intense professional development, a family to care for, and various ministries at church, I felt there was no time to truly grieve. So I did what every good person with anxiety does - I faked it. I busied myself with work and with my tasks so I could avoid my feelings. Isn't a to-do list truly the best friend of someone with generalized anxiety disorder?

I threw myself into project after project. I kept telling myself I just had to face it and plow through. I went to our agency reunion. I said yes when asked to serve in the bed baby room at church because they needed someone. I threw myself into a training apprenticeship for an organization for whom I had long wanted to work. I began listening to Pride and Prejudice (the inspiration for baby B's name). I was stoic to a fault. I did, and I did, and I did. Meanwhile, I neglected my inner self. I told myself that I was taking medication and seeing my counselor, so I was fine. I had a revelation this week in which I realized that that is not enough, because I still have to work on me. I can't just expect to heal and become better if I do not put in work.

But then something changed. My wife and I took a small beach vacation alone. Just the two of us - no social media, no outside influences, just us. We listened to a good book, had very little agenda, spent hours just swimming in the waters that for so many years of my life I've said I hated, ate fresh seafood at every meal, and we just relaxed with each other. We took the time to just BE. Nothing else. In the act of being, we were able to heal and properly grieve. We had a conversation amongst the waves about how we needed this time to just relax, reconnect, and mend our broken hearts. We finally both got to a place where we are ready to move forward in our adoption journey.

This summer has been a defining moment in our family. We have grieved, we have grown, we have healed. And we are ready for what lies ahead. Not every day will be easy, but we are ready to face what lies ahead. We all have hurts, but I encourage you to find rest and heal your soul.