Looking Up

In one week, we will have been live with our agency for eight months.  We'll still be in that oddly named place of limbo: actively waiting.  It is amazing to me that even though we haven't had any legitimate contacts from expectant moms, these months have actually flown by.  Don't get me wrong.  I'm not immune to those moments of self-doubt when I feel like becoming parents just wasn't meant to be for us.  Sometimes it feels like we've been trying so long and hoping for so much, and have come away with so little that this is a permanent state and we will never be anything other than what we are today...DINKs (Dual Income No Kids).

The good news is that those moments don't happen often and when they do, they are fleeting.

Last week, I was walking on my lunch hour, preparing for my second annual (at this time, at least) walk in the 500 Festival Mini-Marathon in May.  When I walk, I spend my time ruminating about things.  Sometimes it's nothing in particular. This day, it happened to be about my prior experience walking 13.1 miles and oddly, how it compared to where we are on our journey to adoption.

I had been doing just fine until we hit Indianapolis Motor Speedway.  The banking made the 2.5 miles of the track the most physically difficult of the whole day.  I could have simply powered through and been in a much better mental place when I left the track had it not been for one thing. 

I looked up.

In the distance, hazy and far away were the buildings of downtown where the starting line had been and where the finish line was.  It looked so far away.  I couldn't fathom walking all the way back there.  It seemed too far for me, and once the thought entered my mind, it poisoned all of my good intentions. 

After leaving the Speedway, the going became tough for me.  I would continue to put one foot in front of the other, but the idea that every step brought those buildings closer was simply lost on me.  One step at a time seemed like a slow and difficult way of getting to the finish line.

But I made it.  It wasn't pretty.  I spent at least five miles in a mental argument with the devil perched on my shoulder who argued that I would never make it and I should just stop where I was.  Troy always seemed to appear from up ahead at just the moment I needed assurance and support.  And we finally looked up to see the buildings towering over us as we crossed the finish line hand in hand.

Sometimes, I feel like we're at the place in the adoption journey where the going gets tough, the goal seems impossibly distant and we've lost all of our faith that our little steps are actually carrying us somewhere. 

And when it gets like that, I am reminded that when I have nothing more to give, the strength comes from those around us, and their support keeps me putting one foot in front of the other.

We're getting closer with every step that we take.  I simply have to remember that even though every footstep is small, it is moving me closer to my goal all the time.