A Different Kind of Waiting

While pregnant friends and acquaintances update their facebook statuses, sometimes multiple times a day, I wait. I have no baby bump to proudly take pictures of. There are no ultrasounds to post as my profile picture. There's no ecstatic call to the family members to gush over a positive pregnancy test.  I have no daily reminder of a baby due to nausea or sleeplessness or heartburn except for that which is caused by the mountain of paperwork sitting on my desk.

I can't plan for a certain color nursery because I don't know the gender of my child. My son can't reach over and touch my belly when his little sibling kicks.  People in public don't see me and automatically know that I'm expecting a little one. Some family and friends aren't even sure what they think about this addition and some aren't supportive at all.

But somewhere out there, there's a baby. A little person who is loved by the God I know. He may not yet even exist. She may be considered an accident or may have parents who can't care for her even though they want to with all their heart.  There might even be two babies.  

So. I can pick out names. I can get my nursery ready because who needs a gender specific nursery, anyway? I can have pictures taken and put together a book that represents the gifts I've been given in my family, friends, home, work and church so a birthparent out there can see what life a baby might have here. I can talk about the process of adoption with my son and still pray every night for his baby brother and sister. He now adds "from mommy's belly or from adoption" to the end of his plea. I can update people in our lives who are excited about this every time another piece of paperwork goes through or we cut a big check.  I can plan and dream with my husband about what changes a second child will bring to our family dynamic, although it's likely an illusion that I have any idea what it will be like.

I can know in my heart that there's a special child out there, one that is perfect for our family, who will be a child, a friend, a sibling, a torturer of our dog and, if my son has his way, will be skilled at the bass so our band will be complete.  A child who will likely not look like any of us but will be just as much a part of our family as any child I could give birth to. I can wait, sometimes patiently but often impatiently, because this child is as real as any other.   I can resist the desire, by God's grace and help, to feel jealous at all the pregnant people around me because the great (although sometimes elusive) reality is that I'm expecting, too.

It's a different kind of waiting. It's hard and good and oh so rich.  It's waiting on the unexpected and knowing it will change my life.