To My Little Moon

Written on Sept. 21, 2012

To my Little Moon,

I didn't expect to be writing this to you...ever really.  I really thought this letter would start out "Dear Little Miss," but it isn't and I find myself grinning widely at the thought.

Just like your brothers before you, your appearance in my life was sudden, unexpected, and filled with a deep sense of peace.  And just like your big brother Little Bro, I have to apologize for the months I have spent pouring over your bio on the waiting child list, praying for a family to find you.  I kept coming back to you, daily; I even started showing you to Appa regularly with a tut tut why can't a family see what an amazing child this is?

Why indeed could I not see, could I not listen to my heart that kept drawing me to you?

Unlike your brother, I didn't wake up one morning with the conviction of a mother than you were mine. Honestly, I didn't even ask for your file.  But life/fate/divinity/karma helped push a bit and a week ago today your file was in my inbox.  I gasped at your cuteness (oh the cuteness!) and tried to imagine life with three boys close in age.  And although I didn't get a "no," I didn't get a "YES" either.

But I knew you were special, and so Appa and I were careful.  We were careful to make sure we could be the family you deserved.  Careful to make sure we could still be the parents Little Bug and Little Bro deserved.  Careful to make sure the dream of Little Miss was one we could let go of.

When I realized I could let go of that dream easily and with finality, that's when I started to believe I could really be so lucky as to be your mama.

And in the last 36 hours I have felt my heart expand.  You went from a sweet little boy to my sweet little boy. I started missing you.

I woke up this morning and I knew.  I knew you were going to be my son.  And so when Appa agreed this evening, I knew this wasn't just a "next step" step but the pivotal step towards you.  We're still months away from sending an acceptance to Korea, and yet tonight I feel like I just did.

From this moment on, no matter the status of our paperwork, I have three sons in my heart.  And I know that someday I'll look back on this night and find it hard to imagine a life without my Little Moon.

Rainbows and Race Cars

One of my fondest dreams is to prance through the girl's section at T@rget filling my cart full of leggings and skirts and Easter dresses with big bows.  I imagine clutching "Snow White"'s hand as we take her to the Magic Kingdom for the first time.  Ribbons, lace, princesses, sparkles, pink.....I have always wanted a daughter.

Except for last week, when I realized I really didn't.

I realized I wanted a daughter like I wanted a fire place or a master bathroom. A fun and delightful dream, but definitely something I could live happily without. As cruel as that sounds, when faced with the ultimate decision, my desire for a daughter was superficial to my real desire.

A third child.

And when it became clear to me that I wanted my two sons to have a third sibling closer in age to them no matter what section of T@arget I needed to shop in, the world opened up a most wonderful not-surprise surprise.

A son.

I have a 2 year old son half a world away.  He's just 14 months younger than Little Bro.  He'll be 3 by the time I can kiss his sweet heart-shaped lips and hear the laughter that accompanies his most killer grin.

He's perfection, and my heart is bursting with joy.

My dreams are now filled with color coordinated holiday sweaters, fire truck tennis shoes, and World Series champion baseball caps (okay, that last one might really be a dream).  I imagine my sons always having someone on their side, always having someone to play with, always having someone to protect and be protected by.  The more I imagine having three boys, the more I am surprised at how I never realized before how much I would love that.  Because this is it for us.  A 4:1 ratio.  I'm so so so looking forward to it.

I might not have gotten pink glitter, but I got my rainbows.

Adoptivus: What View of What If

Seoul Tower is awesome.  The panoramic views of Seoul are seriously unreal.  I simply could not get over how far skyscrapers stretched in every direction.  I looked out over Seoul and imagined where my son was, where his birth mother and birth father were, where my older son grew up, and where his birth parents were.  With views like those, it seemed completely uncomplicated to imagine a world where we could connect with those special people and places.

That is not the memory that sticks with me from Seoul Tower.

Instead it was all the children from the school field trip that giggled and pointed at us or yelled "HELLO" before blushing and ducking their heads in laughter that kept capturing my attention.  I stared so often I started worrying that I was being creepy, actually.

I watched them joke and laugh or snark and grump at each other as only 10 year olds can.  I saw the popular kids and the studious ones.  I saw the giddy girls and the awkward boys.  I heard Korean roll off their tongues and imagined the type of lives they must go home to at night.  What they eat, what their parents do for a living, how to get home, what they watch for fun.

This was the life my sons should have had, and I was fascinated and so very heartbroken to see it playing out before my eyes.

I have never believed my sons were meant to leave Korea and live in America.  I love them and am so thankful to be their mom, but adoption blows in a million ways for them and this is one of the big ones.  The entire time I was in Korea I keenly felt the loss of their rightful chance to live in Korea as a cultural majority.  To see all those children who didn't have to loss their Korean culture, language, and traditions broke my heart for my sons and their field trip to Seoul Tower they will never get to take.

It was this moment when it crystallized for me that I would do everything in my power to help them learn Korean and bring them back to Korea as often as we could.  I mean, everything and anything.  I can't give them back the life they should have had, but I will try my hardest to bridge that gap just a little bit.

Adoptivus: 30

Many people consider their 30th birthday a low-point birthday milestone, but for me, I will always consider it the best birthday of my life.

I turned 30 in Seoul.

I spent the day on a bus tour seeing the sights of a beautiful city, visiting a Korean folk village, enjoying a delicious meal and panoramic views from the top of the tallest tower in Seoul, and shopping in local markets.  It was such a delightful day that I barely thought about it actually being my birthday, let alone the end of my 20s (which I was happy to see go anyway..I'm a big girl now, yo).

But Appa, ever the gentleman, carved out a little bit of time during Little Bug's nap for a private birthday celebration.  He bought me a sweet piece of cheesecake-cake, and we had a date in the lounge.  We talked about the big and small things happening for our family and flirted like high school kids, and I might have eaten all of my cake and about half of his.

It was perfect, and no party or gift will ever be able to top Seoul, Little Bro, and a piece of cheese cake.

Adoptivus: The Brothers Meh

One of the things I fantasized most about was the first moment my sons would meet.  Little Bug had been preparing for over a year to meet his brother, kissing his picture every night.  For him, Little Bro was already a part of our lives and the whole actually being in the same country business was just a formality. Meanwhile, Little Bro was happy being an only child.

When Little Bro came sprinting through the doors in our first glimpse of him, he stopped short in the middle of our merry little group, taking us all in with equal parts interest and wary.   Little Bug, on the other hand, stepped right out to meet his little brother and said loudly into his face "Hi, Little Bro." I held my breath, tears threatening as I watched what I knew would be an epic moment in all our lives.  I wished like hell my camera was already out, but wasn't about to miss the fireworks to fish for it out of my bag.

Turns out there was no need.  Little Bro looked once over at Little Bug and then turned back toward his foster mother and we were ushered inside.  There was nothing remotely special about the moment, other than it was the moment when these two brothers first met.

A total and complete meh.

Looking back on it, maybe moments like that don't matter.  I don't recall the first moment I met Appa.  The boys made their moments later with jostling for cars and toys and phones and pens.  Little Bug ate Little Bro's treats and Little Bro took command of Little Bug's balloons.  They both tried their hardest at making a family picture impossible without flailing limbs and arching backs. Those were the moments that started their relationship, even if they weren't the first.

And honestly, none of those moments really feel like mine, either, but I wanted to get them out in some form for the LBs to have when they are older and curious as to how their lives together started.

Adoptivus: Foodie Fail

After meeting Little Bro less than 15 hours after touching down on Korean soil, we fought the jet lag and lost by taking an obscenely long nap that ate the rest of our day.  Once we woke up, we really had little we were able to do but eat.

The hotel we stay at is attached to a large Korean mall and train station.  It's bustling, fancy, and very convenient.  As this was our first official night there, we knew absolutely that we wanted something Korean.  The little place with a seven sign menu of mandoo and soups looked like just the comfort food we were craving.

And it would have been perfection, if I hadn't have tried to get all fancy and order in freaking Korean.

Appa and Kim ordered by pointing to the picture of the soup they wanted, but I wanted to be adventurous, so I attempted to order a soup I was unfamiliar with and I ordered it in Korean.

Let's get it out of the way that when our food came it was apparent that we had ordered about five times the amount we could have eaten and must have looked ridiculous ordering the quantity of food.  We wasted so much at the end of the meal and it still makes me cringe to think about.

But the part that still leaves a sour taste in my mouth...literally...was the fact that the soup I ordered was, to my taste, disgusting.  I love me a lot of Korean flavors, but this was a cold soup and it tastes of fermentation and seafood, two things I don't prefer.  I truly did try to take a couple spoon fulls, but it was just too unappealing for me to stomach.  It didn't help that I was watching Appa and Kim happily tuck into some of my favorites.

I'd like to say we figured out a way to save some face in that small little mandoo and guk shop because all eyes were fixed directly on us, but we didn't.  We left that cold soup virtually untouched and despite our best efforts, made a minimal debt in the others.  I couldn't look in the direction of that shop for the rest of our trip without blushing in shame.


We finished the night with some ice cream from Baskin Robbins, and the flavor combinations were so interesting and daring.  I remember sitting at the table marveling over all the neat flavors and building a blog post in my head.  I'm sure it was the fatigue talking, but I remember just being totally blown away by the flavors in that shop.  I'd just met my son and yet my head you exploding from ginseng-flavored ice cream that I didn't even try.

That blog never got written and I have forgotten every flavor on that menu, including every flavor we actually purchased.

I am many things, but a foodie is apparently not one of them.

Adoptivus: First Date

Unlike meeting Little Bug for the first time, which was very much Mama meet Baby--Baby meet Mama, our first meeting with Little Bro was more like a hybrid play date/speed date.  And to be frank, he just wasn't that into me.

Little Bro is a tiny little boy with a personality about three times his size.  From the moment the doors opened and he came sprinting down the hall (not toward us, but rather away from his foster mother), I desperately wanted to be in his cool crowd.  He played hard, he grumped hard, and he loved hard, and this too-cool-for-school kid in his Captain Bitz tank top was a bit intimidating.

I remember being so focused on how torn I was.  I wanted to get to know his foster mother who was sitting quietly taking it all in, and I wanted to prove to them what great, "with it" parents we were and how our family would just click.  I wanted Little Bug and Little Bro to fall instantly in love with each other (the fight to the ground over the Cozi Coupe proved early on that wouldn't be the case).  Most of all, I wanted to touch Little Bro, to connect with him.  I wanted to breath him in and memorize every detail about him.  I wanted to touch his impossibly cute cheeks, kiss his sweet puckered lips, and brush back his whispy hair.

But he just wasn't that into me, and this adoption-savvy mama knew better than to force the love connection at this meeting.  So instead, I just kept gravitating toward him, inching closer and closer each pass he made around the room.  His sweet Korean voice was seriously the cutest thing I had ever heard, and I wanted to keep him talking as much as I could.

So I broke down and let him hold my camera....open and on.  A sin I paid for the rest of the trip with messed up settings.

But it got me my moment.  He sidled up to me to take some pictures and watch the monitor, and as he held the camera, his body almost close enough for a hug, I made my move and lightly rested my hands on his hips.

That was it.  On the first day I met the little boy whose lips and cheeks and toes and tummy and eyes I've kissed and studied and loved so completely for a year now, I could only muster up the courage for that small tummy pat.  Yet, I think back on our first meeting and that moment is still so vivid in my mind.  I can still feel the way his little warm body felt under my hands and how excited I was to be loving on my baby, even just a little.

There was no hug this day, no kiss goodbye.  I knew there would be plenty to last a lifetime later on.  It drove me to near distraction in the coming days and subsequent meetings when I still didn't get a chance to hold my son (and there might have been some threats requests to Appa that I for sure be the one to hold him in the car on the way back to the hotel).

But knowing what I know about my son now, I know this was absolutely his ideal first date.  This cool cat needed to be in control, and the give and take we played that day was the way our relationship would continue to grow.  And I am forever grateful for this one moment that got me through the next 6 days until I could properly hold him in my arms.

Adoptivus: Solitude

I'd like to say I spent the ride into Seoul marveling at the lights of its skyline, my favorite way to experience a city.  However, Appa, Little Bug, and I were all ugly sleeping in the back of the bus while my sister welcomed Seoul for us.  After a brief anti-snooze to check into the hotel, Appa, Little Bug, and Kim were all dead to the world while I sat at our hotel room desk, my head literally swimming from exhaustion, but my entire body was humming with the view from my window.

Seoul. 

It's weird to explain how you can visit a city that is so very different from everything you know and embrace it so wholly in your heart, but that is how I feel about Seoul.  It had been over 2 years since we had last been there, but as I sat there in the same hotel with the same view, it felt like we had come to our second home.  I didn't just love Seoul, but I had missed it even more than I realized. We received a message from Little Bug's foster family welcoming us and wishing us good night because they had been tracking our flight.  We had family there. It felt right and natural to be there. The night owl in me didn't want to sleep.  I wanted to just soak it in, even just from my hotel room window.

So although I should have slept...needed to sleep...I simply sat on that swivel chair and looked out the window at the lights.  Eventually I tore myself away and hid in the bathroom to quietly prepared the gift bags for Little Bro's foster family and social worker in a labor of love.  I took my time, allowing myself time to prepare for the moment that was only hours away.

In only hours, I was going to meet my sweet son.  And although I was out of my mind tired (and actually fell asleep at the lunch table the next day at the agency), I am grateful for those hours of solitude I had before one of the most important days of my life.

I was so ready.  I was so at peace.

And yes, I was so tired.

The Frame

In 2009, I bought a "Santa&Me" frame in my expectant mother glow.  The following Christmas, that empty frame broke the dam on some emotions I had bottled up, and it wasn't pretty. 

This year I filled that frame with an epic "Santa&Me" picture of Little Bro and his BFF.  I smiled so wide it nearly hurt every time I saw those two frames proudly displayed. And today, I smiled peacefully as I packed up the rest of my Christmas stuff, because I packed away not two, but three frames.

Little Miss needs a picture frame to match her oppas, naturally.

I don't know when that frame will make it out of the wrapping, but I can guarantee it won't be this coming year or even the next.  And that timing is what is ideal for our family, so the Christmas futures where that frame will be tucked safely away don't make me sad in the slightest.

But the fact is, Little Miss is in my heart in a way she has never been before. She's not just a dream anymore, but a real future, and we are looking for her, waiting for her, hoping for her.

With Little Bug and Little Bro, we (I) made big announcements all the time.  We (I) wrote blog posts about the smallest details and the most insignificant of steps.  This time around, due to a couple of factors, the biggest being the long and completely unpredictable time frame of referral and travel in our specific situation, we (not just I) have decided to keep Little Miss' process low key. Of course, me blournaling this is hardly keeping it secret, but that isn't our intention, and everyone that should know already does.  Rather, we've done the adoption-OMG!!!! thing for so long that it's time to just live our lives and celebrate the big things when they eventually come along.  I promised Appa I would be less crazytown this time, and I intend to hold to that.

However, I really just need to acknowledge the fact that we are on our way to our daughter, and that we are so very happy and excited about it.  And someday, when she reads this amidst the pages and pages devoted to her brothers, she will know that her adoption was just as special and just as exciting and joyful.

Buying that frame when I knew full well that it wouldn't be used for years was my attempt to put that out into the universe.  I won't have a closet filled with dresses and bows for quite some time, but in my crawl space a frame will be waiting to be filled.  When I packed it away, I packed it away with a smile and a wish in my heart.  It won't be filled for many years, and I am okay with that.  The fact that it will be filled is the most important thing.

Little Miss, when you someday read this, know that you've been loved and hoped for from the beginning...just more in our hearts.

The '85 Bears Would be Proud

Tonight Little Bro danced a dance I have been waiting 3 months to see.

The day we took custody of our Big Star, his foster mother sent us home with a final CD filled with pictures they took on his last night in their home.  I cherish these pictures, but one video of Little Bro dancing this awesome high-kick, tap-dance, Super Bowl Shuffle type dance while grinning stuck out, initially because it was so cute.  Then it stuck out because while Little Bro likes to get his groove on, never once since he has come home has he busted out that particular dance.

And believe me, I've tried all sorts of things to get it out of him, right down to doing the dance myself.

I know it's not truly important and probably means nothing, but I still mourn the loss of the child we saw in pictures and videos from Korea, because my child laughs a little different, looks a little longer before jumping, and seems a bit more jaded.  It's understandable based on what he has gone through, but he's also just getting older and more mature (for a 2 year old, of course).  I thought that maybe the dance was this little lost moment I'd never get to see for myself.

But tonight, after 2 days of some serious attachment loving Mamma/Big Star while Appa and Little Bug learn to hula in Hawaii without us (I don't want to talk about it), as I was singing a ridiculous song about bath time, I saw it.

The shuffle/high kick/tap dance while grinning routine.  Over and over again while I continued to belt out "Let's go take a bath, let's go take a bathhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh."  And it was just as cute as it was in the video, cuter even, since it was finally in a moment we were sharing together.

Textbook Mistake

Last night we hosted a family birthday party for Little Bro.  As is tradition for us, our family parties are small, intimate affairs with around 10 people, some pizza (or in this case, Beebimbap), and a couple hours of family time.  Because Little Bro has been doing so well for so long, we felt that just days shy of 3 months home, it would be safe to have these important people in our home and interacting with him in a meaningful way.

Oh.My.God. What a nightmare, or rather, in Little Bro's case, night terror.

I blame us, totally.  We let it all slide last night with people holding him, playing with him, comforting him, and generally getting up in his face.  Our social butterfly ate it up happily, and everyone left an hour past his bedtime feeling like this was the beginning of a beautiful new chapter.

And almost immediately the meltdowns began.  It was initially a perfect storm of over-tired/over-stimulated, but morphed into the grieving night terrors we haven't seen in a long while.  He didn't want us near him at night, but sobbed and could not be comforted without us.  All night long.  Anger, fear, rage.

And I knew it was my fault for letting my guard down and piling extra stressors on him (lack of sleep, us being on the other side of the room, etc.)  As the hours ticked on throughout the night, I was once again humbled by how huge this trauma is that my kids carry within them.  Although each day snips a little of the hold it has on their heart, it is still there lurking silently, especially for my little one still so newly home in the grand scheme of things, ready to come to the surface in moments of stress.

So we regroup.  He woke up happy and "normal." We'll step up attachment activities and pull back on the social interaction for a while.  Because it's my job to make sure he is always in situations where he feels safe and secure, and I dropped the ball this time.

Distance

It's 6,541 miles between where I sit tonight, on my couch with my TWO sons miraculously slumbering in their rooms upstairs and where I was a week ago.  I was sure that I'd be blournal the hell out of my trip to Korea, and while I would lay in bed at night unable to sleep, I would formulate what I wanted to say, but the words could never come out when I would sit down to write them.

The truth is, sometimes life is just too intense, and I need to process it before I can get it out of my head....I need distance.

When I laid in bed at night, across the world from where I am now, I wanted to write about how instead of feeling this sense of connection between Little Bug and his birth country, the awkward subway rides where people would stare, tut, or talk to him in Korean before realizing that he had no idea what they were saying made it painfully clear to me that unless I find a way to get my sons at least semi-fluent in their first language, they will never be able to return as anything but a foreigner.  I know how badly I wanted to be able to communicate and connect with the people of Korea, and that longing must be nothing compared to what my sons could one day feel.  The distance of silence made me realize that my goal shouldn't be to just bring them back to Korea every couple of years, but rather, I need to give them the tools so they can go back on their own someday.  The connection isn't mine to foster because it's one I will never have myself...ultimately they will need to reconnect to their birth culture on their own.  But without language, they won't be able to do that.  This trip made that crystal clear.

When I laid in bed at night, across the world from where I am now, I wanted to write about the way it felt to spend the evening with Little Bug's foster family.  How effortless it was, even with the language barrier.  How calling them family isn't just lip service anymore, but a real, true relationship based on love for each other, not just a common love for one little boy.  I'm not sure I will ever have the words to describe how right it felt that evening.  It wasn't even a "full circle" feeling because this is a circle that just keeps on going.  We'll have more evenings like this, I am sure.  There is so much loss in adoption, but watching my son cuddle into the first parents he ever knew made me thank God that we've been able to save such a precious relationship that my son will be able to cultivate all through his life.  To be loved is a wonderful thing.

When I laid in bed at night, across the world from where I am now, I wanted to write about how I turned 30 and didn't even give it a second thought.  Instead I spent the day touring a beautiful city's historical offerings.  Clearly the cure for midlife birthday depression is to spend the day exploring Seoul.

When I laid in bed at night, across the world from where I am now, I wanted to write about how natural it felt to see Little Bro in the flesh.  How after all this time waiting, there wasn't any dramatic heart palpitations, just a very calm feeling of recognition.  But after that first meeting, I noticed a twinge in my heart that had never been there before.  I missed him.  But not like I missed him for the last year.  Instead of missing the child, I missed the spunk, the chatter, the mischievous twinkle, and stubborn set of the jaw.  That was the moment I knew in my heart that he was truly my son.

When I laid in bed at night, across the world from where I am now, I wanted to write about the way I would get physically sick every time I thought about Little Bro's foster family.  How worried and heartbroken I was for them. To gain joy through the pain of someone else is something I won't ever be able to reconcile.  As I sit here tonight, it keeps me up, gnawing at my heart and mind.  I pray and hope that someday we can connect in a more meaningful way that we have to date, but I realize that wish is selfish on my part, both for my son and my benefit.  But really, it's not about either of us.  It's about them. And I hope they find peace, however they choose to find it.

When I laid in bed at night, across the world from where I am now, I wanted to write about watching my sons become brothers.  How hard it is to see them both suffer from what is inherently a loss of individuality and personal attention.  How hard it is to balance transitions of two children with completely different needs and temperaments who, at least for now, don't seem to mesh.  I wasn't expecting them not to mesh. In all my million of prepared scenarios, that was never one I considered. And it makes me sad.

When I laid in bed at night, across the world from where I am now, I wanted to write about the way this trip changed me.  It was bound to, of course, just by the nature of it. I'm more jaded and more hopeful, all at once.

But for all this, I needed the distance of space and time.  I needed to mull it over, move away from the rawness of it all, before I could find words suitable enough to share.  Words that I didn't want to sob or scream or sing.

And now that it's out, I feel free again.  I can go on with my life, capturing the moments both my sons give me and exploring my evolving definition of motherhood.

A definition that still includes a whole subsection on bodily fluid, as Little Bro wasted no time proving to me he can roll with his big brother in that department.

Written on March 29, 2011

One year ago today my son entered my life.  Even though it would be a full month until all the other factors fell into place to make it so, one year ago today, before I had even seen his file which would come the following day, I knew.

I sat down at the computer 1 year ago today and wrote him a letter.  A letter than I had no business writing to this child, but that I absolutely knew would one day be read by him.

There are few things in life that I have felt as uncharacteristically, blindly faithful about as I did that day 1 year ago.  File be damned, finances be damned, business associations be damned.  I just knew that the child behind that little square of a picture was the child that Appa and I would both ultimately agree was going to be our son. For someone who likes to err on the side of emotional caution and pessimism, I was full of wild abandon when it came to loving this child.

And now, 1 year later, a little white dresser in my home is filled with clothes he will wear in just over a week.  My calendar has appointments that he and I will go to together. My home is about to become his home, my traditions his traditions, my family his family.....

My heart simply his.

In the last 365 days, never once have I wavered from that wild abandon.  I've felt such peace.  Truly, such peace.

All because 1 year ago Appa and I followed an insane urge to jump outside the plan, our comfort zone, our expectations.

Thank God for today.

I Won’t Hesitate No More

I’m freezing.

That’s probably the shock from hearing it’s finally time.  We’re finally on our way to Little Bro.

Lately I haven’t had words for this part of my life, this more personal blog.  The heartache for those I already love in Korea has pretty much taken over.  But today the excitement has barreled in, too, for me and my family.  And the shock that after almost 1 year to the day that my heart said “MAKE THIS CALL,” the little child who has had my heart for so very long will finally be in my arms.

 I cannot image how my life would be if I hadn’t followed my feelings on this one, if Appa hadn’t opened his mind and trusted a new plan, if Little Bro wasn’t our big star.  I’m so thankful things have worked out they way they have….right down to every delay and hiccup.

And it will be hard for him and others, and I can’t stop tempering my excitement with that knowledge, but my God, it’s a beautiful thing for my family, too.

The way our family and Little Bro came together is one unlike I ever thought I would write, but at every turn we’ve been blessed. The last year has changed me radically, and I believe it is for the better.

I won’t hesitate no more, no more

It cannot wait, I’m Yours

Well open up your mind and see like me

Open up your plans and then you’re free

Look into your heart and you’ll find love love love

-Jason Mraz, “I’m Yours”

Heartache

Our travel call for Little Bro is imminent.  Maybe not tomorrow or even this month, but I can probably count it down on my fingers and toes now.

And truly, I am having a hard time getting excited about it.  In fact, my biggest emotion lately is heartache.

Through a couple of ways, I've ended up feeling quite close to Little Bro's foster family, even though I have never had any direct contact with them.  But I know that the four of them love that little boy like a son and brother, and I know down to the pit of my stomach that driving him to the agency, handing him over to strangers, and then driving home alone is going to kill them.....all of them.

I know that for every day I tick off a calendar towards our Family Day, they are ticking a day off theirs, too. And when I think of it, it makes it hard for me to celebrate that tick.

It can be said that this is the way things happen, that they knew this when they signed up, and that they will be happy he is going to live with a family who will love him just as much as they do, but none of those things really bring me any solace, because I am sure they don't ease the heartbreak this family is feeling at all.

I am frantic to write my letter to them just right, to somehow convey the words I don't have, the guilt and sadness and horror and love and gratitude and respect I feel.  But the cursor had been blinking at me for the last 2 weeks, hammering home the reminder that there is nothing I can do to stop so much pain and loss from continuing to wrap itself around my sweet little boy.

Having been through this once before with Little Bug, I think it's made it easier and more important for me to consider the foster family's needs in this transition.  Little Bug was with his family for 9 months and the transition was traumatic for them; Little Bro is his family's first foster child and will have been with them for 20 months.

There is a time for joy, and has come and will again.  But right now I can't revel in my joy, my gain.  Not when I know how much pain is and will surround people who I already love.

It's Okay

As of today, we’ve been waiting 316 day (10 months and 10 days) since we said “yes” to Little Bro’s referral.  In my heart, I think it will be at least another 30-45 days before we can start our lives together as a family of four.  In comparison, 10 months and 10 days after we said yes to Little Bug’s referral we were finalizing his adoption…as in we finalized his adoption exactly 10 months and 10 days after accepting his referral.

So, on that day 2 years ago, if you had told me that the application I was turning in the next day would be the beginning of a process that would have me waiting over a year just to start waiting 316+ additional days to bring home an almost 2 year old, I would have told you outright that we couldn’t do it.  I would have said that I wouldn’t “be able to survive” or that it would have been the “most excruciating thing I would ever go through.”  Trust me, whatever I would have said, it would have been dramatic, emphatic, and filled with fear.

When you look at the last 10 months and 10 days on paper, it does sound horrific.  I’m about a far from patient as they come, and waiting this long for a child, while that child continues to bond with a loving family, both unaware of just how painful their separation will be, is mental and emotional torture.  Someone this weekend at the adoption conference I attended, after hearing about our process, asked me if I would be able to look back on the last year with anything but bitterness and sadness.  She asked if this had been the hardest year of my life.

And you know what, the answer is unequivocally no.

And surprisingly, not only did I truthfully tell her that it had not, but I actually said that it hadn’t been bad at all.  When I look back at the last 316 days, the first emotions that bubbles to the surface are of feeling lucky and grateful.  For every set back we’ve encountered (the quota being announced 2 days after we verbally accepted, the 9 week DCFS fiasco that pushed out official ATK back by a season, the huge gaps of time without a developmental update and that fear that inspired, the wait, the wait, the wait), we’ve been blessed with things we never expected.  We’ve gotten pictures and video in untold amounts that have helped us start our processes of getting to know Big Star and feel comfortable with the family he calls home.  We’ve had numerous people meet our son and give us little glimpses into his personality as he has grown. We finally got a developmental update that made up for the 8 months of silence in spaded. We’ve been surprised and blessed by an early EP submittal.

When I type it out, I see 10 months and 10 days of a divine hand and karma stepping in just at the precise moments when we needed it most, although it’s so much easier to ignore these little blessings when they are cloaked in this dark cloud of the wait.  And that makes me feel grateful…..so, SO grateful, because I know most families waiting haven’t gotten what we have.  I’m going to do everything in my power to pay it forward and hope that my words of thanks to those in Korea will help other families experience what we have.

But I wanted to get this out, for Little Bro, before I ride the next big adoption news high (which will hopefully come soon).  Even in the darkest moments, even on days like today where I have stared in intense obsession at my phone willing it to ring, I can still truly say that wait for him has made the year better than it has made it worse.

The last 316 days have been hard, but it's okay.  It's all going to be okay.

Productive

In the last week I've felt the anxiety and obsession with the wait reach a new level.  I decided instead of writing about it, I was going to sit in silence.  Instead of stalking the forums and message boards (although, don't get me wrong, I've still got my finger firmly on happenings there), I channeled my energy into making a dent in the things that were stressing me out.

And there are plenty.

So this week, instead of blogging, I painted Little Bug's new big boy room after he went to sleep and wrote letters to my son's birth mothers.  I shopped for gifts.  I wrote three blog posts and didn't push publish on any of them just because I wasn't feeling it. I watched Little Mermaid with Little Bug over and over.  I didn't catch up on e-mails and I didn't pour over videos and pictures of Little Bug or highlight sentences in my toddler adoption book.  I didn't respond to many blog or Facebook posts. I read Rainbow Valley by Lucy Maude Montgomery and watched the train-wreck third movie in the Anne of Green Gables series.

All in all, a productive week spent doing something other than obsessing.

The Gift of a Wait

Dear Little Bro,

You’re everywhere it seems lately.

Every morning brings some new thought of you. The sight of the double shopping cart at Target. The fact that your hyung has taken to calling his bed “Little Bro’s bed” in an attempt to avoid having to lay down at night. Planning a final “Mama’s Getaway/30th Birthday” trip on the fly to fit it in before you come home. A sweet e-mail from a friend. The video I’ve already watched so many times I can practically repeat the Korean being said, although I don’t entirely know what I am saying. The HR process at work we’ve begun for my transition time with you. The travel plans being made with your presence in our family in mind (don’t get too excited, you and mama aren’t going to Hawaii). A touching song from a friend who has you in her heart, too. The way your brother makes out with your picture every night and can’t sleep until he’s “dissed” it and blown another “diss” to the big map of Korea (“Dahya”) where he knows you are. The clothes Little Bug has grown out of that I can’t pack away because I know you’ll be fitting into them within a couple months.

The way my heart has been feeling lately: nervous, sad, excited, hopeful, incredulous, and most of all, peaceful.

Over the last 11 months since I realized so suddenly that we were your family, not a day has gone by that I haven’t felt every one of those emotions bubble to the surface. Sometimes it hasn’t been graceful or gracious or entirely transparent, but they’ve been there. Your presence in my life, even from across the world, has challenged me and helped me grow in ways I didn’t think I could or needed to go.

The truth is that you’re just fine where you are. Better than fine. You’re great right where you are. You don’t NEED me right now. But I’ve needed you. It isn’t your hair I needed to smell or your body I needed to feel, but your smile that taught me a valuable lesson about appreciating what I have, instead of what I don’t. In choosing joy over sadness. Waiting for you has changed the way I practice patience and given me courage to hope and faith the endure. Not small gifts, and possibly something I should cross stitch onto nice dollies.

It's easy for me to forgive the wait when I am at the end of it, but it's also so much easier for me to see how waiting for you has changed me. I'll be a better mama for you because of it, and that's a win-win for us both.

See you soon, baby big star.
Love Mama

Panic

Note from me: If you are a waiting mama who is having a rough time with the wait right now, please don’t read this. I want to be sensitive to everyone who is still waiting, but also need to document my own feelings to stay true to the ultimate purpose of this blog. I worry this might be construed by some as complaining about having my baby come home soon, and I know that could cause a lot of pain to people whose babies are not.

With Little Bro’s paperwork actually moving, with a time frame actually happening, I’ve experienced something unexpected in the last few days.

Panic. Sheer, consuming, anxiety-attack producing panic.

It started hours after we got our EP submittal call. I was walking into the big box store to buy some celebratory champagne and happened to see one of those double child shopping carts. It was big and bulky and looked like a pain in the butt to navigate. It was also front facing.

And I started having trouble breathing.

In 8 weeks I will have two kids and need to use that very shopping cart. Two little kids. Suddenly all around the real life adjustments started staring me in the face. Two is not just one more than one. Two is TWICE as much as one. That can’t be easy.

Appa and I sat down Friday night and made a list of things we needed to do and buy. We’ve spent so long thinking Little Bro was so far away that we’ve never actually physically prepared for him to come. Sure, we have a double bike trailer and stroller and matching Jamaica shirts, but is that really what’s going to be our basic survival needs in our first days and weeks as a family of four? Probably not.

Instead, we dropped serious dough we probably should have been spacing out over these last 10 months on another baby carrier, another table booster, and two new car seats. We also realized that the bathroom gutting/remodel that needs to happen sooner rather than later (think cracking, molding tub) should probably happen before we cocoon our family in Little Bro’s transition period. Switching Little Bug into his new room? That went on our list, too. As did actually painting and converting our guest room/office into his new room. Oy.

And my whole “prepare for the long end of the wait” plan has sort of put a cramp in my project schedules at work. It looks like they are going to need to hire a temp to cover my editing. Not totally my fault, but it’s stressful to rework our plans and for me to turn over projects I had been planning on starting.

And then there is just the panic of a new mother facing an unknown. Appa travels…..a lot. We’ll have 2 weeks to move our nights to some semblance of survival mode before I have to go it alone. Although I won’t be alone. I’ll have two kids who won’t want to go to bed. Our sleep training for Little Bug just took a new and less desirable twist. During the day Little Bug’s life will continue to be normal. He’ll have his school and friends and teachers to give him some semblance of normalcy while Little Bro and I try to get to know each other, and for that I am grateful.

And Little Bug. My little one who I see as half gentle giant and half baby. Being a big brother is going to change something inside of him. He’ll grow and develop so much once his little brother is home. All good changes, I am sure, but it makes my heart hurt a bit to know that soon he’ll never be the only apple of my eye, my only little love. He’s going to have to grow up a little bit, and as much as I want that and as much as he needs that…..being the big brother means he’s not the baby. That’s exciting and sad.

And our extended family, who are all so supportive. I’m starting to write the letters I’ve been putting off, because things will be different this transition. Not in a popular different way, I think. I dread having to spell out some of the things that we feel are necessary for this transition (a 22 month old versus a 10 month old), especially because our family simply wants to cloak the four of us in love. It’s stressful to have to ask your wonderful family to please phone that cloaking love in…for a while.

All these things don’t even have to do really with Little Bro, who is the BIGGEST and most important part of this transition time. At 2, he’s going to come to us with a personality we didn’t have a chance to help mold. What if he’s the natural alpha? What if he is mean to Little Bug? What if he and Little Bug don’t get along? What if he’s a bully or thinks Little Bug is boring? What if Little Bug is mean to him? Little Bro has been the only and oldest child for the last 20 months of his life….transitioning into the little brother might not be something he is really keen on doing. I know that most of these things will work themselves out, and I do truly think Little Bug and Bro will end up being very chummy. Little Bro seems like an outgoing and friendly child, and even if he is the alpha, if that’s what works for them, that’s fine with me. But part of me, as an oldest child myself who doesn’t totally understand what it’s like to live further down on the sibling chain, it feels a bit like I’m cheating Little Bro out of the chance to have my every thought and action focused on only him, like it was on his brother. What if he needs more than I can give?

A million dollar motherhood question that has nothing to do with adoption, I am sure.

So basically, I’m freaking out. But as sweaty as my palms are, I am still insanely grateful for this chance. I never thought that we would have Little Bro home in April, and the feeling that rises above all this panic when I think about it is one of total joy. In 8 weeks, for better or for worse (but I’m betting for better), my family is going to get the supreme honor of having this amazing little child join our family. If that means late nights and stressful conversations and crazy remodels and big expenses…bring it on. Little Bro is so, so, so worth it.

And Then There Are These Days

When I can barely type from shaking with shock and joy.

When everything seems so close and real all of the sudden.

When 10 months and 14 days means nothing when compared to 8-9 weeks.

When the light at the end of the adoption tunnel finally starts to glimmer.

When I tell my social worker to "shut up" because I can't believe she is calling me.

When I hit one of those HIGH highs.

When Little Bro is so close.