Dear Child of Mine,
I’ve been yearning for you a lot lately; more than usual. Perhaps it’s because so many parts of our life seem to be eager for your presence. Our desire is changing from we really want a child to something is missing. There is a new void in my heart that I can’t quite describe.
It’s been three weeks since we moved (back) into the parsonage and I have to say it seemed like our surroundings whispered, “Welcome home.” I wasn’t sure how I would feel dwelling in the space we occupied during the first three years of marriage. It seemed so long ago, another lifetime. But this house is our home. It feels right, like pulling on the glove sized perfectly for your fingers.
Seeing the empty rooms, though, reminds me in a very loud way of your absence. Barrenness was easier to ignore when we lived in a studio apartment, but now its presence is around every corner. I’m hurting maybe more than I was, but also more hopeful. This seems like the right place to have you join us, with space to play, a church to love you, and family nearby.
I’m not certain of our next steps. We haven’t found a new doctor yet because we’re waiting for our insurance to be official and I still need to call our R.E. in Rochester for a good referral. Even if all of those pieces line up perfectly, you may not come to us in the form of a biological child. Maybe it’s time to start the arduous steps of adoption.
Either way, you’ll be loved, welcomed with arms wide open and received with tight hugs.
Come quickly, Child. There’s room for you.