Friday, September 5, 2014

I love adoption too, but...

I just watched the most beautiful video about a wonderful family that has adopted kids from all over the world with various special needs. It was inspiring. It was touching. It was bittersweet. I love adoption too, but my story looks so different from what I thought it would.

I thought five years ago when we bought a bigger house and an eight passenger van that we would walk through the challenging process of adoption and begin an adventure of being an adoptive family. I thought when I bought letter stickers and put them over the bunk beds we set up for the little boys I was sure would come soon that I would tuck them in those beds someday. I have changed the sized of the clothes in the dresser more times than I can count as I pack the things to bring to my son in Liberia over and over again.

There are days I give up hope that he will ever come to live with us. There are times I stop praying. My heart just says, "God, You know."

And I live between the memories of seeing him and the dreams of seeing him again. I cherish the moments of holding him while he slept, of cuddling with him, seeing his eyes light up to see me. Even the regular things like preparing a plate of food for him or helping him get dressed. I am grateful that I have a "history" with him, the "remember when" moments. One of the most wonderful and most painful times ever was when Mark and I gave Michael a birthday party. I actually brought a chocolate cake in my carry on. Crazy, I know. I brought balloons and candles. We sang happy birthday and he blew out candles. All the children shared the cake. When it was over, Mark held me as we walked and I sobbed over all the birthdays we had missed.

Adoption. A word with so much emotion. So many stories. I never would have chosen this one for me. I can't imagine what my life would have looked like without it.

"Why love if losing hurts so much? I have no answers any more. Only the life I have lived. Twice in that life I've been given the choice: as a boy and as a man. The boy chose safety, the man chooses suffering. The pain now is part of the happiness then. That's the deal." C.S. Lewis

At first I didn't think I could go to Liberia because I didn't know if I could bear meeting a little boy I loved so much and leave him. What I didn't realize was the greater challenge was having a little boy love me and break his heart when I left him. I didn't see that one coming. Was the love we shared worth the pain it caused us? I was a grown up, I chose the pain, but he was a child. Was it fair to him? I had to believe that the joy was worth the pain, for both of us.