letting go and moving on....part 2

Losing someone you love is never easy.  The ache of that missing entity consumes the very depths of your soul.  Most of us have felt that pain.  We manage through the moments often with the comfort and support of others.

When the ache is a secret one, things are much different.  Although no fault of theirs, I felt that I couldn't ask for that support from my family.  They were grieving too.  We had never been through a situation like this before.  We didn't even know anyone else that had, so there was no step by step guide on "how to heal after surrendering a child for adoption".  I believed that I had hurt my parents and family enough, so to add on the necessity for constant grief support was just more than I should ask for.

How silly.

That fall I decided to go back to Prairie to finish off my degree, switching my program so that it would only take one more year.  I entered back into a very full academic year with a very empty heart.

It was here that I started to find my way back to healing.  I found out that I was broken long before Amanda's existence.  I was lost.  Over the next two years, and with some amazing people that came along side me, I started to find me.  They pointed me to grace.  They pointed me back to hope and a future.  God became real in my life.  He went from being the Sunday School Jesus to being so much more.

As I tried to resume "normal" life, dating again was catastrophic.  Honesty about my past resulted in either rejection or being used.  I had strong doubts that I would ever find someone that could accept me and all the stuff.

I was wrong.

He drove a gold Camero Berlinetta.  The first time I saw him, he had a car full of girls hanging out the windows.

"Who's that?"

"Danny Adkins", my friend replied.

Later that night we were rollerskating at Lloyds with a big group from Prairie when a red streak of hair flew past me - crazy crossovers and mock hops - all in perfect time to the music.

"Who's that?"

"Danny Adkins...stay away Sheila - he's just a kid", my friend again replied this time with a warning.

Well, I wanted to meet Danny Adkins.  Anyone that drove a car and rollerskated like that was definitely worth looking into.

Over the next few weeks he became part of my life.  My first impression of him was completely accurate.  He loved life and lived it in color.  It didn't take long to realize that he was my forever.

I was so afraid to tell him about Amanda.  I was sure that he would decide that I wasn't good enough for him.  When I finally did, he just said, "That was yesterday.  I love you today"

and he still does

He not only loves me but he respects me.  He respected my story and never told one single person about it.  Both of his parents passed into eternity without ever hearing about it.  That kind of integrity is a gift.  One that I so desperately needed.

To say that our married life was a picnic would be a great fallacy.  You can't come into a marriage with that much baggage and not expect to have to deal with the mess from time to time.  We had our share of struggles and full on war, but the assurance that we would never walk away, by God's grace, kept us together.

Finding myself pregnant was so exciting.  I remember feeling like finally everything was going to be perfect.  But the perfect dream ended in a miscarriage

and then another

I was sure that this was my punishment.  I told myself that because I gave away one baby, I wasn't fit to keep any others.  Those were very dark days.  All of the assurances given by Dan and others around me were drowned out by my own fear.  I had to surrender this over to Him - for His timing, His plan, His will.  I thought I was finished with surrendering my children, but I found out that He needed me to be willing to release my dreams and plans.

I am so grateful for the gift of Alyssa and Riley.  I think that because I felt the loss of 3 before them - one in adoption and two in miscarriage -  I understood more the magnitude of the gift that they were to me.  They have always been my best accomplishment as a human.

So life took on a normal look to it.  From the outside looking in - all was well.  But on the inside, I carried the knowledge that someday things could all change.

someday...
    - someone could discover my secret and expose it all

someday...
    - my children would know that I gave away their sister

someday...
    - there could be a knock on the door, a voice on a phone - saying "hey, remember me?"

someday...
    - the past would have to be relived all over again.  A past that I had tried so hard to erase.

someday...