two and a half days

Matt and I want to thank all of you for your constant stream of prayers and support the last few days. These have by far been the most awful days of our lives. Several times a day I find myself thinking something along these lines: "if this is the worst worst worst pain I can possibly imagine, then tomorrow will have to be better, right?"...and somehow that will help me survive another few minutes or hours. Or something. I probably don't even make sense.

Although we tried so very hard to be realistic about our adoption (remember The Plan?) and not get too emotionally attached to the idea of being parents...well...yeah right.

We were parents for two and a half days. We had a daughter. We held her and fed her and changed her diapers and didn't even bother trying to sleep the first night, we just took turns holding her. We said to one another: we waited five years for this baby...why waste time sleeping when we can be holding her? And for two and a half days that's what we did.

And now she's gone and we're back to being sad and lonely and even though it was only two and a half days, everything in the world reminds us of her. I tried to walk Lola this afternoon only to break down crying because it was cold outside, and the cold reminded me that it was cold in the hospital and we had to keep her wrapped up like a burrito because she made the saddest little squawks whenever she was cold.

I miss her so much. I think my heart will never be whole again.

And so we're home and we just sit around and cry and try to sleep and distract ourselves. We're watching ridiculous infomercials, we got Netflix, we're thinking about repainting the living room. I avoid the whole 'nursery-side' of the house like it has the plague. I'm afraid of my phone because I know there are a thousand pictures that I might accidentally look at and I don't know what to do with them. I want them off my phone, but not necessarily gone forever, but how do I do that without having to look at each one of them and put them somewhere? I have all of her stuff- from the bumpers, to her clothes, to things personalized with her name/monogram, to the paperwork naming us her legal guardians (that was fun for the one day it lasted)...what do I do with all of this stuff?

I'm overwhelmed with how cruel this whole situation seems. I'm not angry at our birth mom-- how could I be? It's no crime to love your child, to want to raise her. I can't find it in me to be angry about that. But I'm angry at the situation. I'm angry that if God in his infinite wisdom could SEE HOW THIS WAS GOING TO END...why make us go through it at all? Why all of the signs, the dreams, the 'God moments' that gave us hope and made us think that this was our chance? THAT I cannot handle. THAT is what hurts. This story has no redemption, no point other than pain. 

To cry out for a child for FIVE DAMNED YEARS and then get one for THREE STUPID DAYS? Is this some kind of sick joke?

And yet we keep clinging to God...old habits die hard, I guess. I have no idea what to even pray for. I keep squeaking out a teary Jesus, please and that's as far as I make it and I hope it's enough.

Thank you for every single kind comment, email, text, tweet, and...have I covered every medium of communication? I'm sorry that I've responded to exactly ZERO of them, but I promise that I am reading and appreciating each one. Responding is just more than I can handle right now. I have no idea what I'm supposed to be doing right now-- processing? healing? moving on? denying? distracting myself? and so it seems like I'm pretty evenly splitting my time between distraction and crying...and hopefully at some point I'll move on to something more productive. In the meantime, we deeply appreciate your continued prayers and kindness. We feel broken and empty but definitely not alone, and we are incredibly thankful for that.