The Hardest Thing

Before we adopted Lil' Miss, we had a domestic adoption fall through.  It was probably the hardest thing I have been through in my life.   Honestly.


We were chosen by a birth couple at the beginning of March.  Their baby, a boy we named Jackson, was due March 27.  After three years of longing for a baby in our family, we were ecstatic.  We got the call in the early evening and spent the rest of the night on the phone sharing our news.  Finally, finally, we were going to be parents!


With the help of many loving and supportive friends, we started getting our house ready to transition from no little ones to one precious baby boy.  Anonymous gifts were left on our porch every day.  Co-workers passed along gifts and hand-me-down baby swings.  My husband completely shocked me with flowers to celebrate our news.


A week later, we got another call.  A call saying that our birth parents had changed their minds.  They felt they were ready to parent after all.


It's been four years, and I can still remember the details of that phone call.  That email I wrote to my co-workers.  That drive home.  That weekend when the world seemed to move in slow motion and I thought I would drown in tears.


It was the hardest thing.


So, this time, we tried to prepare our hearts.  We told ourselves that nothing was certain until the baby was born and the papers were signed.  We didn't tell Lil' Miss that we were hoping a new baby was coming to our family.  (How do you explain to a three-year-old that her brother or sister isn't really going to be her brother or sister after all?)


But - try as you might - when you imagine the future, you picture things going right.  You imagine the sweet weight of a little one in your arms.  You almost smell that one-of-a-kind baby scent that you inhale greedily as you kiss your little one's oh-so-soft head.  You see yourself on the way home from the hospital, looking over your shoulder just one more time to check on an impossibly small bundle of blankets and deliciousness.  


You imagine the happy ending.


You don't imagine getting an email like the one we got last night.  A few lines that shatter your hopes and change your dreams.  An email that says your baby's birthmom has made other plans for her child.  An email that tells you that five months of trying not to hope, trying not to plan, and falling in love anyway, are over.


The baby we had hoped to adopt in March won't be coming home to our house.  He or she won't be wearing the adorable onesie Aunt Kari picked out for Christmas.  And, even though we've tried so hard to prepare for anything, my throat is tight with tears and my mouth is full of the taste of the hardest thing.