April 29, 2011

Adoption Journals

Adoption milestones are popping up every time I turn around. 
We just celebrated Reagan's 2nd birthday a few weeks ago. 
Around her first birthday, I spent more than one night boo-hooing the hours away. 
 Feeling absolutely sick to my stomach.
 There were times I felt if we couldn't, "make it there" by her 1st birthday--
nothing would turn out right
I was sure that our bonding would be forever screwed.
 That in those few weeks...she would be lost. 
Stupid--but true.
This invisible clock starts ticking away moments. 
I felt so helpless.
You get lost in the vagueness of it all.
So many unknowns.
February, March and April were miserable months for me in 2010.  

Looking back, I feel like I was pretty detached as far as our bonding went. 
There never seemed to be enough time to prepare for this new life.
When we started this process, Jason was taking a world record amount of credits at Eastern Oregon University.  Then, he graduated, joined the Army, left...and it was my job to sell our house, move the kids, and work on adoption stuff. I emailed him her referral picture while he was at O.C.S.

I loved her.

But, it seemed like...say, you've been separated from you husband (or whoever you love) for a long period of time...and right as he walks through the door, your kid poops their pants, dinner burns, fire alarms go off, and you stub your toe just as you meet him.

"I love you! I'm glad you're home! But...there's all this stuff going on. "


We had so much on our minds.
Where would we be stationed? What job field would he get? Would our house sell?
 I hear other adoptive mothers talk about how much it mimicked pregnancy for them. 
The preparations. 
The longing. 
My experience seemed so chaotic.

 More like a bad romance. 

A drive. 
A determination. 
No matter what--this child needed a home. We, "oooh-oooh-oooh-ed" and raised our hands to claim a child (in a non-materialistic sense of the word) whatever child we got, and that was her. We needed to do what it took to get her home.

What does that even mean?

 I kept thinking, "Just get her home...then you can bond."

It reminded me of pregnancy I guess. 
That last month, when you would push down an old woman in the street,  if that meant you could have your freakin' baby already.

Yeah, that's what it felt like.

I forgot to pray over her many nights before she came home. 
That made me feel terribly guilty. 
When I would pray, it would sound like this, "GOD!!! I don't know what I'm doing. I've always desired this. From my core. Why is it so hard?! So complicated. Please love her for me. Please hold her for me. Please. Please. Please make this happen--despite the chaos in our lives."

My kids would remind me, they would pray for her, talk about her...love her
That humbled me.

I'm still humbled and amazed that from point a. to point b., she made it into our arms. Into our home. Into our lives.

 Grafted into my heart. Breaking it and healing it all at once.


Since it's Spring Break around here, and we are still working on organizing this house *cough.* Since my sister's about to have a baby, my mom will be coming to visit, and hopefully sometime soon...my husband will be coming home for R and R. I thought I would post some of our travel buddy's journals. I'm not sure that's on the horizon for me. I wish I had kept a journal. But I didn't. 
These guys all have different perspectives of the same trip, same care center, same agency.

So without further ado, in alphabetical order:

Amazing, kind, beautiful family. 
In the process of adopting again, less than a year after their first adoption. 
Go see why...

Slightly (REALLY) jealous that these guys are heading back to Ethiopia soon. 
Really wish I could go with them. 
While we were in Ethiopia, I loved sitting near her. She was constantly asking our driver questions. So, vicariously through her, I learned much more about Ethiopia than I would have otherwise.
Drop by to read their story...

I would start at the very beginning. Then keep reading.
 I love her writing. 
I love the details of every day life in Ethiopia. 
She writes about things I had forgotten. 
She's funny. 

Finally, Jamey. 
The woman who writes about things that have rolled around in my head, but I haven't always given voice to. She's been therapeutic for me in my own adoption journey. 
Very focused on the what happened between child and parent.

 I tried to pronounce, "Zehlahlum," for the first time just now. 

Say that three times fast.

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