Known

Sometimes our most thrilling personal adventures are also the most alienating.
And that is how I currently feel about adoption.

I feel like we are on this amazing adventure and, because it's indescribably difficult already, it yields a deep-in-my-soul kind of joy and anticipation. And other people seem to totally miss that.

I was in the copy room at work the other day, chatting with a co-worker about how lucky we are to be in the parenting minority that has never experienced projectile poop. I told him that I'm bracing myself for the worst with Cash baby #2 ... there is no way we will be that lucky twice. He turned in excitement and asked me if I'm pregnant, to which I responded with a resounding "no, no no." And then I told him that Josh and I are in the process of adopting.
He turned back to the copier and distractedly said, "That's cool." No questions, no excitement. Maybe I was reading into his response -- it would not be the first time that I over thought something.
But my heart sunk. Is the process of adopting not comparable to being pregnant? Is it not equally exciting to add to our family through someone else's womb?

This is the loneliness of my heart for this season. I am (quite literally) an expectant mother, but few people acknowledge me as such. And when they hear about our journey, they usually respond with confusion, an understandable ignorance, or unintentional dismissal.
We are talking about baby names, slowly collecting sweet little gifts and dreaming about our child. But people must assume that adoptive parents don't have this season of preparation/expectation like traditionally pregnant families. No congratulations offered until there is a baby in our arms, I guess.

In trying to manage my own heart in this season, I am so thankful to be understood and known at the foot of the cross. I am thankful to serve a God who is oh-too-familiar with the concept of waiting for His adoptive children to land in His arms.
I can't imagine how people walk this path without the gracious, tender presence of the Father's adoptive heart.
I want to forever remember this season of my journey ... because I can't be the only person who feels profoundly alienated in some sphere of life. I want to remember how God's heart beats with my own, so that I can sympathetically lead the alienated to the Omniscient One, the One who knows that which otherwise falls on deaf ears.

And, though misunderstood, I will remain expectant.