There was an important detail in yesterday’s post, a huge important detail. Did you catch it? C held ON TO ME and cried. He..held…on…to….me!
If you remember C’s story, you know what a big deal this is.
We’ve come a long way. And though we may still have a long way to go, there are few thing’s better than a “Bug Hug” from my little C. He wraps his arms and legs around me and presses his head to my chest. And unless it’s a prelude to stealing my glasses and running away, these are such peaceful moments.
He still has several hella tantrums per day. And he is still struggling with English. But he can say (in toddler speak that no one else might understand) “All Aboard!”, “Time Tunnel”, and “Clue” (he learns better from Steve, Blue, and the Pteranodon Family than from me -what can I say?). But the most important new phrase in his every increasing skill set is “I love you.”
If someone had told me 10 years ago that I would adopt a child, I would have been able to believe that. If they had told me he’d be my middle child and that he’d have an older and younger brother, I would have thought they were nuts.
If they had told me that middle child would be in an absolute state of terror when he came home to me, I am not sure what I would have thought. Maybe I wouldn’t have thought at all. It makes so much sense in retrospect. How could he not be terrified? How could he not be angry? And yet, it was all so hard, so heartbreaking, and so frustrating at the time.
And no, I was not heartbroken for me, for the homecoming I had dreamed of. I was heartbroken for him – this scared stranger who I wanted to love. Who I wanted to love me back.
M (son 1) and K (son 3) were wonderful surprises. It took some effort at first to be a parent; the first 6 weeks with M were hard – which seems funny now. After bringing K home, I wondered how I could ever have thought caring for a little person who sleeps, poops, nurses, and cries *and doesn’t do anything else* was hard? And really, what is 6 weeks of adjustment compared to a lifetime?
And C, the child I jumped through hopes to have. ..well, the first 6 weeks were beyond hard. I am not sure what I would have done if I’d had any idea what I was getting into. And yet, I am so grateful, so blessed, that I got into it. How much less would life have been had we not chosen to take this path.
At age 45, how could I possibly think of perfect little (surprise!) K as anything other than as a blessing? But the reality is that all 3 of my sons are blessings. They are blessings that I have done nothing to deserve and, in fact, many people would say that I most definitely did not deserve such blessings. I tend to agree. To me, they are all the more precious for that.
And the part where I am 50 when K is 5? Um well – hey, did you see the part about C? The part where knowing what I was getting into may have led me to the wrong choice? Some things it doesn’t pay to think too much about.