I won't lie. I've been crying for a few hours now.
No big shifts or changes, no one is hurt or angry.
I just felt so tired, drained and emotional.
We had our yearly home visit today. Our sweet social worker "R" came by and we toured the house, the property; then we sat down and the interview begins again. It's déjà vu but not. It really is a repeat of one year ago today. We are sitting proclaiming our hearts desires, answering questions, discussing background checks, jobs, church, schools, ideas and hope.
She chats animatedly about us and how we've been doing. We talk details of our profile books and the home study file.
We talk Duchess and the excitement of her going to Montevallo for her senior year. We talk about how she is there, moving things in, while we sit here - missing her move but sending so much love her way we hope she feels our presence.
We talk the dogs and how sweet they are.
We nibble on macaroons, chocolates and sip lemonade.
We walk to each room discussing purpose, layout and decor. Settling on the last - our guest room that will one day be a nursery. Scattered lightly are a few pieces of baby/child decor. In boxes, not hung or placed. Pieces of what's to come.
A civilized, detailed interview of our life in the middle of the day. 4.5 hours.
We wrap everything up and I collapse on the couch. Tears stream down my cheeks and dear M is swift to give me comfort. I hug him for dear life. I know that my hope, my faith reminds me that God's timing is precious, unique and so very wonderful - my head knows it, my spirit survives by it, my heart tries to embrace it, but my soul just really wants to cry. Cry because a year has passed. Cry because the repeat questions make me feel like a failure. Cry because my desire is so strong that to bear another year feels so big and scary. Cry because I love M so much and to give him the gift of a child is so beyond my capabilities that it bites at my soul more often than not. Cry because this tiny baby that might not even be a thought to someone yet will one day be my whole world. Cry because time rushing past me daily and the aches sometimes attempt to overcome the faith. Cry because we feel so close yet the precipice is so high. Cry because we know that the waiting is just a piece - that rejection could still come and my heart aches so much already, that fear of what rejection will be like tries to settle in the crease of each day.
M loves on me, reminding me that God has something so special and I cry harder. A little ashamed of being anxious and questioning God to begin with mixed with my aching desire to be the mother of his children. But I feel it, that sweet little touch of peace from M's hug that is God's love combined with the best husband ever; so I slip into comfy clothes and we turn on Netflix. He lays beside me and the dogs corral around me, loving on me with quiet gentleness and I feel a semblance of relaxation. I say a small short prayer, crying again but now it's just a little.
In this place I am home. Not because the walls deem it so, but because of the two dogs at my side and the man laying beside me. On the walls are photos of our journey, places we've been, things we've done - M says he looks to them when he is having a pity party/bad day & it reminds him he is blessed, that life has been a great adventure already & that there is so much more to come. I like that he sees it that way. Today I'm trying to share his sentiment, I'm looking at where we've been, thinking of where we are going, reminding myself that our stability is a gift, that we are doing what has been asked and striving to do more. Reminding myself that God's timing is not my own, that He knows better and that He has great plans for us, He is in the background silently working to give us the best child & life we could imagine...
I still may cry some more. I know I will as time passes.
The mask slipped today, right onto the floor; yet M was there, he dusted it off and set it aside. He loves me for all I am, he wants so badly to see me as a mom, to be a dad, to share all we have with our children, to learn from them, to love them and to give them love like we've been given. He is my lifeline through all this, my constant, my anchor in this crazy storm and I'm forever grateful that when he stands beside me I never even think to put the mask on - for him, I'm wide blue eyes, rose red cheeks, tear stained in leggings and a comfy tunic watching Murder She Wrote and binging on green tea and French macaroons...I cannot wait to see him as he does the same with our toddling child between us, laughing with baby giggles and sleep deprived hilarity. He will be the best dad there is - no mask, just love, faith & loyalty....