Adoptivus: Family

One of the most profound experiences of the whole trip was to spend the evening in the home of Little Bug's foster family.  As the driver took us into the heart of Seoul, I tried to soak in the sights, imagining the streets and sounds and colors that made up my baby little bug's world.  I didn't even think to take pictures or video, although I'd give anything now for some.  (Next time.)

There's always a moment, even in the most exciting and right experiences, where you think "Holy crap, what am I doing?"  As our car turned down a tight alleyway and started to slow, that moment hit me.

We'd met these people twice for a grand total of 2 hours over 2 years ago.  We don't speak the same language, we don't have the same cultural customs, and our contact has been been completely over the internet.  Yet, without the safety net of our agency, we were going to their home for dinner and catching up.  In that final moment before the car stopped, I felt my stomach plunge at the thought of this all going very wrong.

Then the car stopped and I heard a booming, warm, joyful voice welcoming us by name in broken English.  I was barely out of the car before being enveloped in a hug from my son's foster father, and I suddenly felt at ease.

This was family, and we were all going to make it work.

I struggle with how to share about that night.  It's tucked in my heart as one of the most beautiful evenings of my entire life.  It's so special that I find myself protective of it.  I thought it would just be about Little Bug, and while he was definitely the star of the show, the night was really more about our two families cementing a bond that went past a shared history of raising this little boy.  We celebrated and got to know each other, and by the end of the night, we felt like extended family.

What I can share is how humbling it was to see my son's first home, see the toys he loved and the clothing he wore.  It was affirming to see the walls covered in pictures of my beloved child and the other children who have been blessed enough to call these people family, even though years have now passed.  I can write about the honor I felt at the beautiful table filled with every imaginable Korean dish, prepared for days by neighbors and family who all wanted simply to honor the little baby with the beautiful smile they remembered.  And I can recall the delight and surprise when I was presented with a delicious traditional birthday rice cake and everyone sang happy birthday to me in Korean.

But the moments that stand out the most are the snap shots in my memory.  The way Little Bug's Omma and Appa gazed at him and brushed back his hair as he sat between them, so intimately a parent/child moment.  The moment when I happened to glance into the kitchen and see Little Bug fork feeding his college-aged hyung from his baby plate.  The moment when his beloved noona rushed into the apartment to scoop him up in a hug, having stopped by on her way to the airport as she was leaving to complete with her Korean national sports team but couldn't pass up the chance to see him again.  The quick glimpses of neighbors popping their heads in the door to catch their own glimpse of Little Bug.  The moment when Little Bug rushed over to give halmoni a big hug, he delight etched all over her face.  And above all, the pealing sounds of laughter, his and theirs, as they doted on him all night long.

We all claimed each other as family that night, as weird as it sounds. But it's no longer just the love of Little Bug that binds us to each other now, and that, besides Little Bro himself, was the most important aspect of our entire journey back to Korea.

We are so blessed with family.