Opening the Flood Gates

The last month has been very hard for my big mouth. I deal with my emotions best by writing them out, and this has been a very emotional month for me. The number of half written and completed entries is staggering. Some I will probably never publish (many just various forms of wailing), but the ones that I want Little Bro to one day have will be published as it feels right.

The last couple days have been divine. The referral high is different this time; instead of the jolt of excitement that came with Little Bug's surprise referral, Little Bro's referral has been a slow burn that has sometimes stung and has now settled into this really warm feeling right in the center of my chest. It's protecting me from what has become almost immediately bad news.

Little Bro isn't coming home for a LONG time. He's not going to be even remotely a baby when he steps into our home. We'll be waiting nearly and possibly entirely a year for him to come home.

A couple weeks ago this news might have been devastating. It might have even tried to worm enough doubt into our minds to sway our resolve to be brave and listen to our guts. We've never really considered an "older child" adoption. Yet here we are, not even 48 hours into our wait for our baby, and we find out he'll never be a baby to us.

And I am shocked to find I don't care. Obviously I care that he will have a harder transition and that we will miss so much, but the situation is not one that can be changed, no matter what anyone does. Somehow just the knowledge that Little Bro will come home is enough to make me dig in my heels, hire a Korean tutor, buy another Korean cookbook, reach out to other families with experience with older children transitions, and resolve to do whatever needs to be done. I would rather have him at 24 months than never at all. Hell, I'll wait as long as it takes.

Cheerfully explaining this to my surprised new social worker (who might think I have a hearing problem or a screw loose now) when she called the break the bad news reminded me of an entry I wrote on April 12 (which was a bad day all the way around). It essentially set the tone for our outlook on this new journey for our family (at least in my mind because I only recently shared some of these entries with Appa, who is definitely not a "write-it-out" sort of person).

April 12, 2010
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Little Bro. My big star. You are going to be a tenacious little thing, aren't you.

I don't know how else to put this…but it's would be so much easier to just pretend we never saw your face and move on with our "plan." You know, if we could forget you, which we can't, because you are 100% unforgettable. Even in this time of uncertainty, I write you notes and steal looks at your picture and get panic attacks when I think of any other child being my Little Bro. Because your mama is a huge geek, I have often come back to the popular phrase: "What is easy is not always right, and what is right is not always easy." Our sudden journey to you is not easy, but man, baby boy, does it feel right.

You're worth fighting for, and that is what your Appa and I are doing. Both in our own minds and hearts and with all the other external factors that stand in the way of getting you in our arms. We're being brave, having faith, but being realistic and careful because we only want what is best for you…and we know there might yet be a chance that we are not.

But we hope we are.