The Unintended Road (a little father along)

A brief break from Adoptivus memories because there is another memory I wanted to write about...this one just 1 year old.

One year ago I wrote a post on this blournal that has always stuck with me. As we celebrated our first Family Day, I was privately coming to terms with the reality that Little Bug's special needs were not going to be a quick fix like I had hoped. I was in a bad place, although I think I handled it pretty well outwardly. It was hard for me to come to accept the reality of Little Bug's limitations and my challenges because of them. I was worried about the future. I was tired. I was scared. I was a little mad.

Now, being in some part of that future, I reflect back on the mother who wrote that post and how things have changed.

Obviously Little Bug has made some huge strides in the last year. The physical challenges that exhausted me then are mainly a thing of the past. He's communicating more and more. He's happy and healthy. Those pesky braces are gone. He's a joy to be around. I'm ridiculously proud of him.

Yet, just two days ago, during a particularly sour afternoon that started with me having to take off work to clean my house for a therapy meeting, his PT officially assessed his gross motor at 15-18 months....Little Bug is 34 months old.

A year ago that would have ruined my week. Instead, I held back the tears and rallied. I thought about all the progress he has made and reminded myself that he would continue to make more. Within a few hours, I wasn't even thinking about it anymore.

That's what the future that I couldn't see a year ago is. It's not about a "cure" or "catching up." It's about being at peace with wherever he is...wherever we are.

It's about walking the road with the conviction that we can, not just the conviction that we must.

The unintended road. The road I never would have chosen for myself. The road that is leading me to discover an ability to find beauty in the smallest details, like a smile, a muscle compression, a step, a gentle touch. The road that is leading me to discover patience and the ability the grieve without bitterness. The road that is leading me to discover acceptance.

The road that led us to discover a bravery that led us to our big star and another unintended road that I cannot wait to travel.

Just like a year ago, I reflect on my time as Little Bug's mother, and I know I would not change it for the world. Every scoot, every crawl, every step, every trot, every 2-word combination. Last year the bad days (emotionally) often outweighed the good days, but now, a bit further along the road, the good days FAR outweigh the bad. Some days I am still scared or sad, but the truth is I'm really happy.

I'm thankful this is the road that was chosen for me when I didn't know any better. I see the road stretch out for years ahead of us and know for our family, there will be more "unintended roads" to come....intentionally.

I can't wait.

Adoptivus: The Smile

September 16, 2008. The day we met our son. I could not pick which memory to preserve, so I chose three.

Appa is a pretty reserved man, and the honest truth is that he doesn't love kids, at least other people's kids. I knew he would love our son, but there was a part of me that worried that he would be an unintentionally distant parent.

Somehow in the midst of loving on my baby for the first time, I knew that I needed to offer Appa a chance to hold his son. When I asked him if he wanted a turn, the sureness and excitement in his voice caught me off guard.

When I handed him our son, Appa flashed the most brilliant, authentic smile I have ever (and I mean that sincerely) seen on his face. I knew, without a doubt, that I was witnessing him fall head-over-heels in love with Little Bug. His eyes glazed over and it seemed he would now forever be at this child's whim (and he is).

That made me fall in love with Appa on a whole new level. To watch him claim, instantaneously, this child as his own and show him such tender and true love was one of the most moving moments of my entire trip and a memory I will always hold very dear in my heart.

Adoptivus: "Hi"

For months I had fantasied about the first moment holding my son, what I would say, what I would do, and how he would react. It all boiled down to the same phrase, "there you are." I was sure, practically insistent that I would utter it to him.

But when his beautiful foster mother handed him to me, I couldn't find any words for a moment. I had thought all along that I was looking for him...that I would recognize him in some way on some emotional level.

But I didn't. This child was a stranger to me....in the best way possible. He was not the child of my imagination; he was so much better.

She placed him in my arms and he stared directly into my eyes. His deep, impossibly big and thoughtful (and slightly sleepy) eyes studied me, waiting for me to make the first move. To introduce myself to him, because he was most definitely not thinking "there you are."

"Hi."

That, out of all the eloquent (or Korean) things I could of said, was how I chose to start our lives together.

But it worked for us. Little Bug studied me for a bit more and then tentatively reached out to touch my colorful earring that I had worn especially in the hopes he might find it interesting.

I know what I said after that; the whole thing is on video. I cooed and tried to make him say hi to the camera and asked about teeth. All completely pointless things because I was actually just making my lips move.

Inside my mind was going a mile a minute. I was thinking about how heavy and floppy he was and trying to determine what that meant. I was thinking about how hard it was going to be to be gracious and offer Jeff a chance to hold him....like, EVER. And most of all, I was blown away by his beauty, how my heart suddenly knew without a doubt that he was the most beautiful child I had ever seen.

I distinctly remember thinking to myself that we had made the right choice to get on the plane, that no matter what lay ahead of us, I was sure that this would be the child would be the best part of each day of the rest of our lives.

And then I did it, in my head, at least. I thought to myself as I felt my role as a mother start to take form,"there you are."

The road has not been easy, but Little Bug, you had me at hello.

Adoptivus: Baby Gap

September 16, 2008. Our eyes and hands and hearts were finally, truly filled with our first memories of Little Bug.

After meeting our son and having our world rocked, we felt the need to be low key and process what had just happened. We were so emotionally drained.

So clearly the best idea was to go to a super mall and shop for unidentified items.

Shopping in major malls in a foreign country for nothing in particular....totally calming. (?)

The mall we went to was multiple stories and although our house was jammed packed with everything we could possibly need for a child, our new parenthood auras were screaming to buy our kid something.

We made our way to the baby floor and decided an outfit would be a good choice. Unfortunately, this floor wasn't exactly like the baby clothing sections I was expecting. Baby Armani and other designers flowed through the store, in some cases using displays so swanky I was afraid to even walk up to them to browse the items. I ended up gravitating to Baby Gap, for surely I could find a reasonably priced polo that my child could wear somewhere other than to Fashion Week.

Apparently polos are not popular in Korea....not even in Baby Gap.

Instead I found a $120 canvas coat with some nautical theme, which was one of the least expensive items. My mind was a fog between having JUST MET MY SON and being assaulted by sticker shock from the other baby clothes selections (and possibly not having ate anything for almost 24 hours, as my time line reconstruction is now suggesting), so I held that coat for close to 10 minutes wandering around the small rack trying to talk myself in or out of buying it.

In: My baby deserves it. I deserve to buy it for my baby. It's a coat...babies need coats.
Out: It's $120 for a fall coat. It's not my style. It's $120 for a fall coat.

The best testament to how much meeting Little Bug rocked us, Appa didn't even attempt to talk some fiscal sense into me.

Finally reason won out and the coat was placed back on the rack. We continued to wander around the baby floor browsing bottles and cups and all sorts of other items we didn't actually need.

Instead, in the basement, we found a Build-A-Bear, book store, and music store where we could seal our new roles are parents by buying our kid random stuff without breaking the bank.

Ahh, the beginning of a beautiful tradition.

Adoptivus: The Door

Our first day in Seoul was the third day of the Chuseok holiday, which meant our agency was closed. After being politely told by the helpful concierge that the mountain we had intended to hike was about 8 hours away, we hopped a subway train to the first major site we saw on our Seoul city map, Changdeokgung Palace.

I had never been to a place as different from my own culture as Korea, and the palaces were like they were plucked from my dreams of what Korea would be like. Long courtyards, open, historic, sacred, and beautifully intricate.

However, I couldn't have dreamed the vibrant colors. OH, the colors! I couldn't have imagined the way in which history and tradition could flourish amidst busy streets and towering mountains.

I took hundred of pictures. I took pictures of ceilings and trees and roofs. I took pictures of secret ponds and monkey-shaped tree roots and ancient bridges.

And a door. I took a picture of a door.

I don't recall what this door was to. I only vaguely recall where the door was located. I just remember stopping while the rest of the tour went on and snapping a picture of this door. I stood there for a minute or two, "alone," and just contemplated it. Something about it spoke to me.

Maybe it was the color. Maybe it was the rust and age. Maybe it was the history.

Maybe it was my metaphor obsession that loved the idea of this beautiful door on my first day in Seoul. This whole trip was a door I was opening....a door to a new life. We, even more than some, were going into our first meeting blind, without a real inkling of what lay in store for us.

It should be noted that I love this sort of stuff on the best of days, so in my emotionally charged state I was practically floating on symbolism and deeper meaning and significance talk. Poor, literal Appa was good sport while I wandered about musing about life in the abstract.

This picture still speaks to me, 2 years later. It is, out of hundreds, the picture I chose for the front cover of the book we had published for Little Bug commemorating our personal trip. No explanation, just that door on the front cover. I'm printing it out and framing it as a piece of art for our home, too.

To me, it was beautiful.

I also want to add that I have really enjoyed going through my travel pictures and videos and reliving moments and writing some of them down. I need to do more of this, not just for adoptivus. Eventually, and especially once we experience Seoul again for Little Bro, my memories and emotions will fade or meld. Case in point already: I can not, if my life depended on it, tell you anything about what we did past the hour of about 4 pm on this day 2 years ago. No recollection of where we ate dinner or how we past the night away. Memories gone. Wild.

Adoptivus: The Light of My Life

14 hours after our feet left our hometown ground, we landed in Seoul, South Korea. It was twilight as we flew in. We could see a lot of water and some green hills, but everything was this hazy yellow. It felt very "right" to me that it looked this way, although I can't pinpoint why.

Stepping off the plane was less exciting than I thought it would be. I imagined bursting off the plane with this crazy energy, suddenly connected to my son by solid ground.

And I was excited, but not in a crazy way. More in a sleep deprived way.

The Incheon airport is probably very large, but it felt really small to me. Honestly, both times I was there my mind was sleep-deprived and a million miles away, so I consider it a victory that I remember anything at all. We waited around one carousel that felt like the only one in the whole airport, although I am sure this was not true. We finally got our luggage (that was quite wet on the outside from spending the trip with the mud-dragged, drenched luggage of our companions). My most vivid emotion from that entire evening is simple relief that our luggage made it.

It was really hard for me to perk up.

We took a hotel bus from the airport to our hotel, which is about an hour away. Playing on an old TV was a Korean game show and that background noise was the soundtrack to our introduction to Seoul.

The drive is a lot like the country. Industrial turns to rural nature turns to beautiful metropolitan city.

I love city lights; I always have. As a child, I would strain my neck for the first glimpse of a big city at night and it would give me this jolt. So much beauty. So much possibility.

Seeing Seoul loom ahead of us was exhilarating. I tried to take pictures; I tried to take video, but in the end, I put the camera away and just took it all in. Each light. Each building. Each bit of art. Each large dark patch of water breaking up the lights and spreading the city out as far as I could see. In that moment, it was the best, most brightest skyline I had ever seen.

The city of my light.

There is no other way I would have wanted to be introduced to Seoul.

Adoptivus: The Flood

I've dorkily started a personal celebration called "Adoptivus" that leads up to Family Day. The only person who celebrates it is me, but I love reminiscing about that amazing and surreal time in our lives.

Where do I get to have my personal celebration? On my blournal! I thought it would be fun to preserve one memory from each of our days, something we hadn't blogged about or put in a video diary.

On September 13, 2008, Appa and I "woke up" (I use the term loosely because I remember getting very little sleep) to a torrential rainstorm. I hate flying and usually am an internal mess before flights, but I was so keyed up I barely cared about the rain. We had planned to get there 3 hours early....plenty of time.

It was clear before we even got out of our neighborhood that this was no ordinary storm. Water was pooling in the roadways. Less than a mile from our house a major road was already flooded and closed.

What did I do? I whipped out my camera and started taking pictures for the novelty of it all. Nothing was going to rain on this almost-a-mama's airport parade!

Then the radio announced that our major airport was flooding and closed. Even the off ramps from the interstate were closing.

CLOSED. As in, we could not get within a mile of the place.

Oh, flights were still leaving, especially the international ones, but unless you were already there....there was no way for you to get in.

The next 2 HOURS were a navigational feat to behold. Appa's aunt was getting on and off any open ramp she could just to keep us circling in the vicinity of the airport. We had our laptop open and people on the phone trying to figure out mass transit ways for us to get into the airport (those were all closed, too).

The whole time the Korean Air representative kept telling us that the plane would have to take off due to international regulations. Hell, it was even on time.

I went into shock. White lips and nauseous and all.

Oh, and I made a video diary to show the seriousness of the situation, because it totally made sense to do at the time, and Appa wanted me to stop whimpering in the back seat.

Then I got frantic.

And I did not video diary this part.

We started seeing people dragging their luggage through the pouring rain and muddy fields to the terminals. That looked like a fantastic idea to me, and I was loud and insistent that we get out of the van and start trudging the mile through the rain and mud.

Rain was not going to stop me from getting to my baby.

At the last minute, right before Appa and I were going to go for it, his aunt spied a frontage road that seemed passable and wasn't being guarded by cops. That road took us right up to the international terminal, where, surprise, surprise, there was no traffic. We checked in and made it to our gates only slightly damp and with 20 minutes to spare before the flight took off.

Just 8 minutes late.

Many of the people on the plane were soaked to the bone from their trudge through the mud and the plane was only half full because of all the people who could not make it into the airport. As we taxied down the runaway, a huge lake of water sprayed next to us, and I finally started crashing out of the adrenaline into a heap of messy laughter.

Appa and I simply sat and laughed at the remarkable, amazing, and totally surreal experience we found ourselves in.

Freak flooding. Major overseas travel. No sleep. Teal everything. Baby.

Baby.

Baby.

Baby.