Family Planning

I know they are thinking it.  I can see it in their surprised faces, faltering questions, and uncomfortable congratulations.  Some even make thinly veiled comments passively asserting their opinion.  Not everyone, of course, but a hell of a lot more than I would have ever imagined.

Yes, universe and teacher and doctor and therapist and whoever else, we're adopting a third child.  A boy. Close in age to our other children.  And we're thrilled about it.

What?  What's that you say?  I have a 5 year old with significant special needs that require a high degree of attention, resources, and energy?

You don't say.

As things with Little Moon begin to click into place, and our family begins to reshape our lives in preparation, we've started letting people in our far periphery circles into our plans.  And more times than I can count, it's been apparent that the fact we are bringing another child into our family is shocking to them.  It's seems like they can't imagine why we would make life "harder" or "more stressful" or "busy" when our lives are already so full.

It's been pissing me off lately, and I have started this post a number of times, only to cancel it once I couldn't find words that weren't swear words.  But yesterday the answer rolled off my tongue.  It was in response to the gentle surprise of a trusted member of Team Little Bug.

We've always wanted three kids.  We have the love and resources for a third child.  But ultimately, what matters most is that Little Bug is not a liability to our family.  He's not a reason to stop growing our family if we have the means, which we do.  I realized that is what was pissing me off. Little Bug will benefit from a little brother and Little Moon will be just as lucky to have the unique experience that having a sibling with special needs brings.  We have made the decision to adopt another child because we believe that it will be beneficial for both our children, accounting for our unusual challenges, at home and the new child.  Our family life might be framed differently than most, sure, but our lives go on, expand, get better, and continue to grow.

Do we have room or desire for four children? Five? Six?  No, probably not. But do we have room for Little Moon? Yes, we do.  And once we finish setting up the bunk beds, we'll have even more.

Down the Hill

Last weekend my Little Moon turned 2.5 years old.  Although I've seen pictures of him in the last month, I haven't gotten any sort of update on him since October.  This week we did get video from October, so I am really getting to know the October Little Moon...the 2-year-old Little Moon.

I think that might be why him turning 2.5 struck me as much as it did.  There's such a difference between a newly 2 year old and a child careening downhill to 3.  Just when I started to feel like I "knew" my youngest a bit, I was reminded that he's not that baby anymore. 

And the child that he is now, at 2.5, is a child I will never know either.  And while I made peace with that before I even became his mother, it still hurts a bit to know that 3 will come and go for us and, if the last week is any indication of the type of unpredictability and shiny new slow moving processes we could encounter, 3.5 might as well.

And that is my threshold right there, ladies and gentlemen.  I never imagined we'd celebrate 3 with him, but 3.5, yes, I absolutely expected him to be in a Valentine's day sugar coma with his brothers.

Then again, this is all speculation and me trying to protect my expectations from running wild with hopes of bumps in line and things clicking into place.  Because when I lay in bed at night, my heart flutters with thoughts of a surprise phone call from my agency telling me something is finally going Little Moon's way. 

So we are all careening down the hill now.  Little Moon to age 3 and all the sass and stubbornness that age brings (which will pair perfectly with intense grieving, culture shock, and communication barriers, non?) and us to a reality where things will potentially be harder, longer, and more emotionally complicated than we had expected. 

But I am surprisingly calm about these things.  I'd love to have days to get lost in Seoul, and Little Moon is being loved devotedly in his native country and language, things I hope will help shape him as he gets older.  Instead I choose to check my e-mail incessantly for days until the updated pictures come in of my precious little one posing cheekily for the camera (those can come any time now, thank you very much).  I take sadistic pleasure in cheating the gallon care package rule in any way I can.  And I drop some profanity here and there when discussing process changes with trusted friends who don't mind occasional F bombs.

So, umm...happy half birthday, Little Moon?