The Art of Our Adoption(s): Pain

Artist say there is nothing more exhilarating than a fresh white canvas. Creativity is fertilized with possibilities. Vision becomes a reality as the artist picks up his brushes, dabs them in the paint, and begins making purposeful strokes. Strokes are abstract until more are added.  A masterpiece eventually is fulfilled.

Our marriage began as a blank canvas.  It was fresh and ready to be used. The first conversation Karen and I had before we began dating was adoption. She was single and desiring to adopt a girl. I was single and raising Jerome, who was 15 at the time. I had been raising him since he was eight.

We got married and immediately began trying to have children. We tried everything. Old wives tales, home remedies, and bush medicine was not out of the question. If we thought it would help us become pregnant, we tried it.

After about a year of trying, we decided to go to one last consultation with a doctor in Tallahassee, Florida.  He proposed many expensive processes with little to no percentage of working.  We were devastated.

It was a long two hour drive back to Valdosta, Georgia where we resided.  An hour in, Karen and I accepted the news as God’s will.  We had talked about adoption but like most, we wanted biological children. Adoption was our second choice. Now, we know it was God’s choice.

We pulled in our garage and Karen immediately began researching and discovering the adoption process. It was then God took out his adoption brush and began painting beautiful strokes.

When your life and/or your marriage is not your own, you place your trust in a God who orders your steps.  There are times when you ask if you trust your trust. Karen and I went through a deep grieving process of not being able to biologically have children.

Believing it was God’s will for us to adopt was not easy.  It would be a step by step process where we walked totally blind holding on to His everlasting arm.

Months later, we would bring home baby Joshua. Three years later after relocating to Atlanta, we would adopt Jacob. Five years later, we would add to our family Jadon, Karena, Kaylyn, Kristina, and Jair. God brushing away to create a masterpiece with every stroke a new child to love, cherish, and raise.

People sees our family in public or on social media. They are just snap shots of time.  Adoption has it share of hard times.  The smiles and laughter do not cover up the hard times. Times of stress, strain, and sadness.  What most adoption families do not share is the pain. Pain is fleeting. The good outweighs the bad significantly.

There were many tears during those trying months of trying to conceive. The stress was intense. Yet, it quickly dissipated when we got a call. Tears would be overcome with joy. Weeping endures for a night but joy came in the morning.

We would get a call which would change our lives forever. The adoption agency called to share with us a birth mother chose us to be the parents of her baby boy after reading our adoption story.  We would get periodical phone calls.  We will never forget one call where the birth mother shared with us how she felt she was carrying our son for us.

Then, we waited patiently for the call.  I was entering Home Depot on February 7, 2006 to gather some finishing things for the nursery and I received the call our son was born. His name would be Joshua Brandon Rowland.  The pain of infertility led to the blessing of adoption.

To be continued . . .

5 thoughts on “The Art of Our Adoption(s): Pain

  1. Pingback: Art of Adoption(s): Unless the Lord Builds the House | Rowland in Life

  2. Pingback: Art of Adoption(s): She Had Me at Hello | Rowland in Life

  3. Pingback: Art of Adoption(s): 25 Words of Wisdom for My Children | Rowland in Life

  4. Pingback: Art of Adoption(s): New Name and New Identity | Rowland in Life

  5. Pingback: Joseph: From One Adoptive Father About Another | Rowland in Life

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