We found out late Thursday night through a phone call that the adoption wasn't going to happen. At first I didn't understand what he (ours and C's mutual friend...the one who introduced us) was trying to tell me. It didn't even fully hit me until I hung up, went to bed and told Nathan. As I heard the words come out of my mouth it was as if I was hearing them for the first time. I crawled in bed and as the silence of night crept up around me, my heart broke. I felt the tears begin to well as I lay on my back staring into the darkness. Images begin to flash across my mind...all the ultrasound pictures we'd been given, the drawers full of tiny matching pink and blue outfits, the quilt I had finished just hours before that we planned on giving C.
Two days later it is still hard to believe. Tonight I gathered up the quilt I'd made, the twins parenting book and a box of formula samples that had come in the mail and put them in the nursery. I shut the door, walked out and left all that emotionally heavy stuff behind...at least for now. I know I will have to deal with all of it, but I just can't. Not yet.
Nathan is taking this pretty hard. This is the first time I think he's ever gotten his hopes up. He went shopping with me to pick out clothes and bottles. He listened intently as I passed on what I'd read in the twin parenting books. He was so excited that the closer it got the harder it was for him to keep it a secret. I can't blame him for getting his hopes up...mine were up too. Afterall, we'd been planning on this since April. C visited us in April and we really hit it off. Nathan and I both felt like this adoption was meant to be...there were just too many little coincidences that we took as divine intervention. When C told me she was choosing adoption I created a countdown on the chalkboard in our entryway. The first number was in the 130's and everyday on my way to work I'd erase the number and lower it by one...it only got into the 20's. I went to leave for work this morning and the sight of that countdown stopped me in my tracks. I stared tearfully at the chalk numbers that had once held so much hope and excitement. I debated erasing them, and then decided it was best.
It was frustrating today to think of the small..and large...ways we changed (or planned to change) our lives in preparation for (and after the arrival of) these two small miracles. Some of these changes cannot be undone...and some of the changes that were planned but never made will haunt us everyday. They will stand as painful reminders of what didn't happen.
Through the course of our fertility treatments I had three miscarriages. Those losses were so painful, but this hurts just as bad. This time we got to see their sweet faces...we were close enough to the end to think "any day now"...we had even picked out names.
Thank you for all your prayers, I know we would not be getting through this if it weren't for them. I also know the hurt will lessen and things will work out...eventually. I just wish I could hibernate until the pain is gone.