“He looks just like you guys! That totally worked out!”
I have no business writing anything today.
And by exhausted, I mean, well, exhausted.
This week we got to do the thing we’ve been waiting 18+ months to do. To legally, permanently, offer up our home to the boy that was born to another woman.
The one that looks just like us.
((Which, for the record, is not a “worked out” thing, whatever that is supposed to mean.))
I wish there was a word that meant both congratulations and I’m sorry for your loss.
Adoption is hard.
It’s like a pregnancy where you don’t know the due date for, that takes 2 years of your life, and stretches your heart way beyond anything stretch marks or labor could do.
Foster Care is hard.
It’s like adoption only you aren’t their forever family, you have to do all the crap parts of parenting, and you never really see how stuff turns out.
Parenting is hard.
It’s like running a small army of humans that all have very distinct ideas of what it entails to be in the army, that had no choice in the matter of joining in the first place, and have to get along regardless.
Three days before we finalized V’s adoption, we welcomed his biological five-day old brother to our home. I kinda thought we would be out of the system by now. Or at least with a plan. Not coordinating court ordered visits with the same bio mom the day of his brother’s adoption.
Starting from scratch before we even finished.
A friend at church asked if it was easier to parent a newborn not having to go through the labor part. I told her it was, in some ways, and it wasn’t.
I’m hungry all the time. I’m not sleeping. My hair is falling out. My pants don’t fit. I don’t know how to make dinner or transport everyone somewhere. Normal, new kid in the family stuff.
Only it’s with someone else’s kid.
Withdrawing from drugs that shouldn’t exist.
Too small to fit in the carseat.
One I missed out on holding for 5 days. Never felt his kicks or hiccups. One that lost everything familiar in one foreign car ride.
So I guess, my heart hurts more. And that’s different.
They, the social workers, always ask at some point, are you sure? are you guys up for this?”
Not really. No.
And yes, yes of course.
What I told his mom months ago.
I’m not sure what I wanted adoption to feel like. Or what it really does independent of all the new stuff and the tired stuff and the back in the system stuff.
Love is Love.
Wherever they came from. For however long they are with you. And wherever they are going.
That, I do know for sure.