Mood: Bittersweet

Rarely do I feel "sad" about Little Bug's early life. He was in a loving foster home and had a rocking time there. I think I have a fairly realistic view of the losses he has experienced and will be as prepared as I can be to help him understand those losses as he gets older. On the flip side, I surprisingly rarely feel "sad" about Appa and my losses. I don't usually dwell on the fact that we missed the first 10 months of our son's life. Sadness is just not a common emotion I feel when I think about our adoption journeys.

However, last night as I was rocking Little Bug, out of the blue this intense sadness hit me, for all of us.

I felt waves of sadness for Little Bug's loss of his birth mother and birth father, and the very real possibility he will never know them, never see who he looks like, never find out where he got his giggly personality, tenacious spirit, or hypotonia. I felt so intensely sad that my son was missing a part of his inherent identity, a hole that will never truly be filled. I felt sad that my son had lost his memories of his foster family. How even though he will grow up "knowing" them, he will never really know them like most people know the people who loved them and bathed them and cared for them and introduced them to the world. I felt sad for the language my son has lost, and won't regain easily, if ever.

I just felt sad for him. My baby who I want everything for.

I also felt really sad for Appa and I, for the loss of those first smiles and giggles and illnesses and hard nights and milestones. We are lucky to have over 400 picture starting from the time Little Bug is 3.5 weeks old, and yet, when I looked at those pictures last night after Little Bug went to bed, I was saddened by all those moments I missed. Sad because I can never have those moments and can never share them with Little Bug.

I just felt sad for us. For the moments we can never share with our dear son.

It also hit me that prior to 3.5 weeks old, there are no pictures of Little Bug. He was living in the babies home. The thought of this, even though it is a carefully run and safe facility, made a tear roll down my cheek. I was there, and I saw the rows upon rows of little babies who laid in their cubbies until it was their turn for some attention. Little souls who were being cared for as babies, not as individual spirits already starting to grow. The thought of my baby having no one to call his own for 26 days made me horribly, terribly, sad.

So last night I rocked my baby and felt this supreme sadness for all of us, for the injustice and loss that brought our beautiful family together. I think some of this stems from the fact that we have been thinking about Little Bro lately, and realizing more than ever before how much we are missing each moment.

Of course, not two hours later, Little Bug's foster family posted a beautiful Christmas post on their own blog, wishing all their "lovely angels" a Merry Christmas, and included recent pictures of all five children. The picture they chose of Little Bug was taken just two days ago.

That made me happy.

It made me happy that across the world, Little Bug still has people who love him and think about him every day. Some can show their love through a blog post or comment or e-mail, and some can only show their love through an enduring act of selflessness and bravery, but Little Bug is loved, and I am happy that Appa and I get the chance to be his parents and love him with abandon while still raising him to embrace this love from others.

So, if I was to have to pick a mood last night, it probably would have been "bittersweet."