Tuesday, May 28, 2013

...coasters : an analogy of sorts...

i went to cedar point this past weekend. oh my, how i LOVE roller coasters. this place is like six flags on steroids AND crystal meth. that intense. that awesome. 

this trip sparked something in my brain and its dusty wheels started to turn. (seriously, the blog has been neglected and my brain has been in hyper sleep) 

so, run with me for a moment on this... the best roller coasters at cedar point have crazy line times. there is a new coaster and on opening day the lines were four to five hours long!  sometimes people wonder who would ever stand in a line for that long.  me, that's who.  mmk, so the lines weren't that bad on saturday, but still, long lines for lots of coasters.  i think it's worth it.  sure, waiting in line is never that fun.  especially when there is this twelve year old justin bieber wannabe who keeps telling his friends to cut the line.  at the end of the day, however, when you've endured the heat and the wait and you've told that wanna be bieber to pipe the eff down, you get to the platform.  ah, the platform.  the gate opens, and you strap yourself in for the best two minutes and seventeen seconds ever.  as you exit the ride, you might be a little worse for wear, and you probably have a headache, but you tell everyone at the end of the line that it's totally worth it.  

sometimes people go straight from the exit to the end of the line.  it was that great.  they are all about taking the beating again.  some get back in line after a quick sprint to the bathroom and back.  others get in line but leave half way to the platform.  then there are people like me.  i walk it off.  i enjoy the fact that i rode the coaster, i relish the memories of the coaster, but i'm completely content to walk around the park watching others ride the coasters.  until i see that maybe it was totally worth riding a second time.  this is what my i hear in my brain...

maybe i'm missing out? 

naw, it was great, but i don't need that headache again.

look at how happy the people who rode it twice are!

i'm happy i rode it once.  i'm fine!

maybe there is a benefit riding it twice?

why?  to get beat up and want to open hand slap a twelve year old?

i'm fine.

imfineimfineimfine.

 right. 

so.

i rode the adoption coaster.  i waited in the line.  dealt with setbacks and heartache but stayed in that freaking line.  i got to the platform.  i spent a whirlwind two weeks in texas and got off the ride with an amazing little boy.  i've been walking around 'the park' with my little guy, watching him grow, being completely content with what i have.  i see others getting back in line. getting off the ride with another little one to add to their family.  i tell myself that it's great for them, but i'm okay.  one ride.  one perfect little boy.  until my heart starts to ache.  until i want to see my son as a big brother.  until i fess up that, as selfish as it may be, i want a newborn.  

imfineimfineimfine.

too bad it's not as easy as riding a roller coaster.

this is so hard.  adoption is so depleting.  it comes to a point where i sob well into the night.  where someone i know has a surprise pregnancy with their fifth and i wish that's how it worked for me.  where i hate my body...no, where i loathe my body so deeply i can barely look myself in the mirror.  where every avenue we try to take to help us get to the platform fails.  where i am so defeated that i can no longer see the joy in any of it.  

coasters, friends.

roller coasters.


imfineimfineimfine

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12 comments:

Julianne said...

I love you!

Stephanie said...

You just put in words EXACTLY what I am feeling today. We too refer to adoption as a roller coaster ~ I'd take 24 hours of hard labor over the years of ups/downs, red tape, anger, pain and frustration ANY DAY! But, my body wouldn't, couldn't and now can't do that.
Just as you described, when I am kneeling at the alter with our newest addition ~ it makes the 'ride' so worth it.
Sending hugs to you from Oregon.
Thank you for your post...

Emily said...

What a perfect analogy. It is such a long, hard ride sometimes. Thinking of you! Hope you have a great and happy day tomorrow full of goodness and love and smiles and no sadness! :)

The Jensens said...

That is EXACTLY how I feel right now! It describes foster care perfectly. I wish we lived closer so we could stand in line together :-D

Believe me, if I could find a way to "cut" without getting in trouble I totally would!

Que and Brittany's Adoption Journey said...

You know the chorus to the Pink song "Try?" That's how I felt. I had to get up and try, even if I got burned.
You are stronger then I am. And I love the rollercoaster ride time analogy. It is perfect! I remember being gobsmacked at how quickly or "easily" it seemed when someone had a second or third placement. It made it sometimes more daunting to get up the courage to get back in line!

Andrea said...

Hello my sweet infertile sister!
Loved the roller coaster analogy....it is the story of my life. We must chat when you come to town. : )

A. B. said...

Thank you for this. This is exactly how I am feeling today. Literally. I just had a 30 minute long discussion with my husbad about it right before I logged on and read this post. Thank you for sharing. Thank you. I am so glad you have a way with words!

Jewls said...

Love this Kenna, spot on! You are an inspiration and you word things perfectly!

Alice Anne said...

You are so right! I think with adoption we all have our breaking points, and it's not *if* we hit that wall but *when*... I hope you can muster up the courage to fight the big fight one more time so that little booger of yours can have a sibling, but hey - if you don't, you know what's best for you and your family better than anyone! We are all rooting for you, no matter what that means. :)

Jamie said...

I freakin' love your posts. No, for real, I LOVE THEM. xoxoxo

Anne said...

Hugs, girl

Kylie said...

So, not adoption, but I have been having a similar struggle with trying for a second. We are so grateful for Walt and have just been enjoying him and the little miracle he is and the thought of more treatments, years of physical and emotional work to get another one makes me want to cry. You got this friend! Maybe we'll be brave together.

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