In Hebrew it is tiqvah.
It means expectation. It means hope.
A book came in the mail. It is Kate's life in 20 pages. Ultrasounds and flowers and grave markers. A whole little life closed between the hard covers of an 8x8 photo book. We grieve her loss. Grieve it deep. I cannot hear a newborn cry without my eyes welling up with tears. I miss her. Always.
But I hope that God has more for us. Tiqvah.
I've had to smash expectations. I think we're too old to wait forever. I think my kids should only be so far apart. My family always had kids young. I don't know what it looks like to have them old. My God hasn't said any of that to me.
He has reminded me that, often times, our plan is the very pillar that crumbles under His will. This heart's desire I have for another one, it echos through all of us under this roof. Always on our minds. We want it desperate.
I'd taken down the link to our Adopt Together page. I didn't know how to process any of my feelings in those first weeks. Confusion and pain. I was raw and helpless. The idea of trying again, of hoping again was too vast for exploration.
But now. With each passing day, I find myself wishing another love to be part of His plan. I have let down the guard. My heart is open, for better or worse. It is a hard thing, to trust that even if it bleeds again, it will be alright. My husband's heart is wide. Our boys talk to God every night and ask that it might be so. This is what we all desire. Down deep in the marrow of the soul.
I put the link up again. We gave a great deal, financially, to experience the joy of our first daughter. To embark on this again is foolish in the eyes of the world. We have nothing to give. But the One we answer to is greater than the world. I know that I said it all before but our expectation grows with each passing day. Will you pray with me? Will you ask the Lord to bring a miracle to us? Will you ask Him to change our hearts radical if this isn't His perfect plan? Will you pray for it all?
Will you tiqvah on our behalf?