Letting go

My kid is 13 now. E is 8. We've long since passed the point of babyhood. We've also somehow passed the point of intentional decision making as to whether or not we would try to adopt for a 3rd time. There's never been a conversation that resulted in us saying, "ok, no more kids". It was more of occasional, random, comments about missing babies, or how challenging it would be to be outnumbered by children. Comments that never really turned into conversations, deciding anything one way or the other.

But, now, it doesn't seem possible that we could go back to that place. The kid will be in 8th grade this year. E in 3rd. I cannot imagine having a baby and a teenager in high school at the same time. And, truthfully, I cannot imagine the emotional (and physical!) labor involved in parenting another child, when I already feel like I'm doing the vast majority of the parenting of these two on my own.

Last week, a student I previously worked with posted on fb that she and her fiancee were about to be approved to be foster parents. She was asking for baby items. We have closets full (literally) of baby items. Clothes (newborn - 3t), cloth diapers, infant bath tub, crib, pack-n-play, toys, bed rails, books, crib sheets, burp cloths, bottles. All. The. Things. Why have I held on so tightly to these things, y'all?

Earlier this week, she came and got them. I kept a few things. The outfits they wore home from the hospital. Some of the books they each loved, or I loved reading to them. A few toys that I can see using for play therapy at some point. The cloth diapers, because those were expensive and I need to just sell those. A few blankets that were made by family members. But the rest - an entire SUV full (seriously, trunk, backseat, and front seat) - she took all of it.

I wish I could say there was relief as she drive away with it all. But that would be a lie. Mostly, I was anxious. I worried that I hadn't looked through the clothes thoroughly enough and might have missed keeping something important. Or that I gave away a book that I didn't have fond memories of, but the boys might. WHAT IF. "What if" what, I have no idea. Just, what if...

I realize this is grief parading as anxiety. Sadness about a more definitive "no" to more babies. I'm a much more confident - likely, competent - parent of babies than teenagers. I am refilled by rocking babies night after night, and exhausted by driving children to endless sporting events. Even though I assuredly get more sleep now than when my children were small, I am more emotionally exhausted on a daily basis. I love them, and I love parenting them. But parenting older children is just more challenging for me. Babies were easy. Yes, even when E was waking every 1-2 hours day and night for almost 2yrs.

This grief is reminiscent of the grief I felt when we decided to stop fertility treatments and pursue adoption. It was - is - the decision that I knew was - is - the right decision. But that doesn't mean there aren't feelings of sadness. It's taken me a long time to get to this point. And I know, in order to get through this grief, I need to sit with it, let it be, honor it, all before I can let it go.

Today's Lesson: Not making a decision, well, it's still making a decision. Sometimes that decision is just a stopgap until you're ready to make a more permanent one. And that's okay. Sit with the decision. Make the decision. Sit with the grief. Let it be. And then move through it. You don't have to do all of it all at once. Grief is a process. Not a finite thing.