A week later

Another week has gone by and I still can't quite believe that it has been 2 weeks since #4 left. (As in I wrote that it was 3 weeks and had to look at a calendar to realize it's only been two.) In some ways I am doing so much better. I've only cried a couple of times this week. I'm not tired for the first time in 8 months. I am legitimately excited to see who #5 is going to be. I want my phone to ring with my agency calling me SO badly. In the meantime, I have learned a lot about myself over the last two weeks.

I thrive on structure. Rules, I love them. Responsibility, pile it on. My beaver, judging personality LOVES it. Right now I have NO structure in my life and I have discovered that I don't have the self discipline to force it upon myself. I have settled into a go to bed at 12 and get up at 10 routine, that I don't really enjoy, but don't have the strength to break myself out of without reason. I spend all day finding things to watch online. (I think I watched over 1/2 of the series Scrubs in the last three weeks.) I waste time and struggle with motivation. The funky sleep/wake schedule leads me to eat at funny times, which means I'm not eating as much and makes me worry that I am going to lose more weight that I don't have to lose at this point. (When life gets emotional, I don't get hungry. The fact I ate as much as I did right after #4 left was a gift straight from God.)

I avoid things that I'm afraid I will be bad at. I would rather not do something than fail at it. This makes finding a job difficult, I have not felt like I was "good" at a job since I left Pine Cove. Teaching was SO hard, and I did ok, but not great. And my last job I worked with amazing people, but it wasn't a good fit and I never felt like I was good at it. This fear of failure is attempting to paralyze me as I need to be looking for work.

Add to all of this - I'm still grieving. Crowds overwhelm me. (I'm introverted anyway, but this has taken me to a whole new level.) Having to repeat over and over again, no baby. My heart is broken. No job. Is. So. Hard. The adoption agency that did #4's adoption placement gave me a book about grieving that I have been slowly working my way through. (Holding onto Hope by Nancy Guthrie. It's amazing.). A section about worship says the following:

Even though they are so kind and caring, there is something inexplicably difficult about a crowd when you are grieving, isn't there? At times I've headed into the [church] building with completely conflicting feelings. Part of me can't stand the idea that perhaps no one will say anything about Hope, while another part of me dreads that so many people will say something to me about her.

Another section on tears says:

Even now I can't say I'm healed. Part of my heart is no longer mine. I gave it to Hope and she took it with her and I will forever feel that amputation. But embracing my grief means allowing it to do its work in me.

Speaking to my heart. I'm afraid people won't ask me about her. I'm afraid they will. A piece of my heart will always belong to this little girl, who thankfully is doing so well. I got my first update and, as I expected and prayed for, she has embraced her family whole-heartedly. Their journey to her was God-ordained and she fits and makes them a perfect family of 5. Random tidbit - I find it fun that she is the youngest of a family of 5, just like I am.

So there's the update a week later. Still resting in comfort from a God who sees every tear. Still crying out to him for guidance, wisdom, and strength. It's funny, you would think spending all this time waiting, it would become more comfortable. But it doesn't. Thankful for a God who sees and knows.