I had a very rough week emotionally, and wanted to be real with you all about what it has been like grieving our miscarriage during adoption.

I’ll share separate detailed posts about our adoption journey, our miscarriage, and all the bits in between, but for the sake of timeline, we lost our baby the evening of May 14, 2017. In case that date does not ring a bell… it was Mother’s Day. 

We always wanted adoption to be part of our family journey, but had planned for it to bring us little one #2. But as you can see, our family journey is nothing like we planned, so after a couple years of not getting pregnant, we accepted this and began the adoption process.

So here we are: July 10, 2017.

So close to finishing the requirements to adopt, but also two months in to living in this world without a little one whom I love more than I could ever explain.

We definitely did not want to lose the momentum we’ve gained in the adoption process, so we scheduled our pre-licensing visit for June 23, 2017.

the kids’ room

As the state licensing analyst walked through our home, this is what the children’s room looked like.

One bed. A Scooby Doo blanket Steven used as a kid. A blank canvas to create a room to fit the personality of the little one God is bringing to us.

This room was nothing but exciting! When we were done setting up, Steven and I had this moment where we just stared at each other smiling. He threw his hands in the air and yelled, “We’re adopting!” It was the sweetest thing.

Although we plan to adopt one child at a time, we would like our home to be licensed to accommodate up to two children. Which means we needed two beds in the room. So, this past week we set up a crib and extra dresser. And when I say “we”, I really mean Steven. 🙂 

It was so bittersweet to watch my husband assemble that crib. I just don’t know how to describe what it feels like to be heartbroken for the baby I’ll never get to lay down in that crib while simultaneously excited about the one that is sleeping somewhere else right now, but will be in this room someday.

the emotional ROLLER COASTER

So, what is it like to grieve a miscarriage while preparing for adoption?

It’s hard.

We are still trying to figure out how to live day to day with this huge void in our hearts and in our lives. A void that will exist with each day on this Earth. I’m still learning how to get through chores, driving to work, being at work, walking the dogs, family functions, and friend visits without wanting to cry. I’m still trying to go to sleep and wake up without crying. And showers? Forget it! That’s the easiest place to cry.

I find myself sitting in a room full of people I love, but feeling so alone. I don’t dare say a word, because if I do, the tears I am holding back will surely burst through. I disappear outside or to another room to let a few (or a ton!) tears fall out so I can make it through the rest of the day.

From one minute to the next, I’ll go from crying over our angel baby in my husband’s arms to talking about what color dirt bike we’re going to buy our adopted son. From being excited about the little hand we’ll get to hold during family walks, but also saddened over the little hand that will always be missing.

I’ll put mascara on some days as my own personal way of saying, “Alison, you WILL NOT cry today.” And those seem to be the days I cry the hardest.

growing my faith

It is a bizarre space to be in, but grieving our little angel while preparing to adopt has also been incredibly strengthening.

I’ve cried out to God and thanked Him more now than any other time in my life. My husband and I are caring for one another on a whole new level. We have learned that our capacity to love and sacrifice is far greater than we ever thought possible.

I’m strengthening my trust and reliance on God. Because if it were up to my own strength, I would crumble to pieces. But with God, we are going to make it through this and be all the better parents because of it!

Until then, I’ll sit in our children’s room, cry as much as I need to, and continue to dream of all the memories we’ll make in here. Besides, I better enjoy the view now. One day soon, this room will never be this clean again! 🙂

adoption

my prayer

Father, I know you have already written the lives of the children we’ll get to meet on Earth and those we’ll get to meet in Heaven. I know you can see the faces of the little ones who will sleep in these beds. I know you have already planned how they will come to our home. I know you have the timing perfectly set. Please comfort us and give us peace until the day comes that we see those faces, too. In Jesus name I pray, Amen.

Thank you to all who have joined this journey with us. We appreciate the love, support, and prayers so much.

With love,
Ally Rod

P.S. As I reread this before posting, I can’t help but laugh so hard that the dogs are looking at me weird. Here I am saying that we “plan” to adopt one child at a time, while at the same time sharing how nothing has gone according to plan. I’m beginning to think that God will never stop shaking up this planner’s plan. 🙂

7 thoughts on “Grieving our Miscarriage During Adoption

  1. Al you are truly an amazing soul! Words can not come close to explaining how proud I am of you. We may not see each other all the time but don’t you ever think twice about how much your Auntie loves and admired you sweetheart. ❤️💋❤️💋

  2. I feel for you. I also was diagnosed with PCOS. We went through years of infertility and paying thousands of dollars. When we stopped treatment, we magically became pregnant with twins. I miscarried the twins the day before my birthday and then got very sick with shingles and a vestibular disorder. This September will be the 5yr anniversary of everything. Like I commented on your more recent post, we are starting the adoption process. I agree with you, it’s very hard to prepare for adoption when you are still mourning the loss of your babies. Even though it’s been almost 5yrs, the pain hasn’t gone away. Praying for you and that all goes well!

    1. Thank you so much. Will be praying for you, too! I have my good days and my bad days and then my really really bad days. There will always be a piece of me missing, but I find great peace in knowing that I will be reunited with my baby again one day.

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