Friday, April 26, 2013
Worth The Weight
It finally happened. We saw them. Our some-day children. Such an amazing thing to lay your eyes on the children that one day you will call your own. And wow, are they beautiful! I mean, I know all kids are beautiful and all of that but seriously people, these two are GORGEOUS! We saw them, a 3 and 5 year old brother and sister, and we were in love! The thing was though, that brother is a year older than what we had originally thought would be our max age. So we waited, and talked and prayed, and then we just knew. So we contacted our agency to ask them if the kids were still needing a family, and if so, if we would we be considered? They asked us really good questions about why we had chosen the ages that we started out with, and why we had changed our minds, and said they would get back to us. A few days later, we got an email saying that they felt that we were a perfect match! We laughed, we cried and we prayed some more! Now we awaited the official referral. It came on Friday, April 19th a 9:20pm. I don't know how to adequately describe what that is like, to be handed the stories of two precious children that will one day call you Momma. When I gave birth to L and B, and I looked at their tiny faces for the first time, they were so brand new. Blank slates, ready to absorb all the love we had to give them. Ready to learn through the experiences that we as their parents would guide them safely through. But these children, our precious J and M, they are not blank slates. They have a history, they had a family. You know this when you go about adopting orphans. You know the reasons that children end up living in institutions without a primary care giver. That is, after all, how they become orphans, and yes, it is sad. But it becomes very different when its personal. When a real child, with a face and a name has their very own story. The excitement and joy that comes with the referral is quickly replaced with a deep sadness, and a grief that is so heavy you can barely breathe. I went to sleep that night crying for people that I hope to meet in heaven one day. We have chosen not to go disclose the details of their personal history with anyone outside our home. The kids will know, when they are old enough, about the broken road that lead them into our family, but it is their story to tell, not ours. So if you ask, please know that we aren't being anything but respectful to our children when we say, "Nunya bidness." It's heavy, I'll tell you that. Since that Friday night I have carried it. I feel physically altered, drained and like a weight is tied to my shoulders. I will carry it for them, as long as I need to. I believe that when they are home safe and they know we are their forever family, it will ease up a bit. Adoption is beautiful, but it hurts. It hurts before they come home, and I know it hurts after too. Their story becomes a part of your story. Their blood is and was your blood. You cry for them, and as their mother you hope to carry some of that weight for them even when it feels like it might crush you. But my sweet J and M, and all the kids out there waiting; they are worth the weight.