This post is, I think, a little different from the rest. I'm going to be a little more revealing here. I have read so many accounts of the most glorious adoptions--where the children just melded right into the new families, blossomed, thrived; never a negative experience; bliss. At first I thought our experience was just an anomaly.
Then it occurred to me: it is not an anomaly--people in our shoes just don't tell anyone what is going on! Well, I'm going to.
Two years ago yesterday we met Lili Mei for the first time. Although that
was not her name back then, she was already Lili Mei to us. We felt attached to her from the moment we found out about her. Really, we had only known her
for less than five months when she was placed in our arms--well, I say we knew her--we only knew OF her. We
knew she was a cutie pie from the first precious pictures we received in an
email from CCAI saying they had a file for us to look at. We knew she was a waiting-child because she had
a physical "special need." We knew she was "a bit
stubborn." And...well, that's about all we knew. We accepted her on
faith, knowing from the very beginning of
the adoption process that our baby was chosen for us, and we for her.
The past two years have definitely not been a walk in the park. We
could tell from the first moments we met her that it was not going to be one of those dreamy,
blissful, all-we-ever-imagined-it-would-be adoptions. Not by any stretch of the imagination. We knew it. The three other couples in our travel group surely knew it.
And at home in Virginia, I’m pretty sure every child in her Sunday School class
who had been hit, scratched or bitten knew it. Nope, this would not be easy. And it has not been.
But has it been worth it? I have to say “Yes!” Would I recommend adopting a
toddler? Absolutely. Does her “special need” factor in? In the big scheme of things, I’d have
to say maybe a little, but not much really.
No, it’s the tantrums, the anger that doesn’t seem possible in someone
who has lived only forty months total, the tears and throwing things, the
yelling and screaming and the unkind words, the banging on doors and walls with
her feet and her back and her hands and her toys (I’m pretty sure we’ll be
replacing her bedroom door before we move in a few months). The torn books. The rejected playthings. Basically, just pushing us away physically and emotionally. Yep. That’d be Lili
Mie’s m.o.
And then after awhile (sometimes an incredibly LONG while) she calms down, gets
control of herself, apologizes, and asks for forgiveness. And we forgive her. Just as we are forgiven. And we tell her we love her. No matter what. Just like our Savior loves us unconditionally. And we tell her we will never leave
her. Just like our Savior will never leave us. She is in our family forever. Just as
those who trust Christ as their Savior are adopted into the family of
God—forever. Beyond forever. This fiery little person is a constant physical reminder of all we have in Christ. That is my joy.
GOTCHA! Day. It is
bittersweet. I definitely feel
blessed to have been given (loaned) my two beautiful daughters to raise, teach,
nurture, discipline, love during my time here on earth. I fondly reminisce
about my pre-adoption life with only one child, nearly a teenager at that
time. I have to admit, I felt like
life was pretty good. Easy, in fact.
I had it figured out. But
this—this new life is so different. Dare I say—hard?
Yet watching this little
girl with half a right foot do ballet, or run, or jump on a trampoline is
inspiring. Listening to her play
with her imaginary friends is amusing. Hearing the excitement in her voice as
she reads letters on boxes of food, the underside of a dish, a banana sticker…so
fun! Her sense of humor keeps me laughing. Her intelligence shocks me. Her gumby-like body astounds me. Her sweet smile melts my heart. Holding her in my lap as
we rock; cuddling under a blanket on the couch; snuggling in her bed with a dozen books to read
together—this is what it’s all about.
And as I kiss her goodnight and walk out of her room, she smiles and
says, “It’s good to be in a family.”
GOTCHA! What more can I say? We've got each other. It goes both ways. That's the reality of our adoption. And it is just how it is supposed to be.
