We got word Friday that the required step we weren't aware of until recently is a longer step than we realized, so visas likely won't be issued until June. This still should mean that we can travel on our tentative travel date (June 8), but it would depend on no delays. Being this close and still this far is tough. Being this tired and needing this much energy is challenging. Feeling a little defeated and having so much to celebrate is contradictory. Thinking we would have so much time together before school started and having it continuously eaten into is annoying.
And needing them here and not having them is uncomfortable. I know it's probably hard to understand and I think if I read this, I would think, "How can you miss them? How can you ache to have them in your house, at your table, in your arms, when you haven't ever even had them there before? You don't even know them yet, how can you feel so strongly about them?" I understand your confusion. And I don't have an answer. I just know that I feel like I am living in emotional limbo with half of my heart here and the other half there.
And the only possible explanation I can give is that God does the same work in the heart of adoptive parents that he does in the heart of biologicals. You ache and long for that baby growing inside you, you feel intricately and intimately connected to it in ways that make no sense when you have just seen a grainy black and white ultrasound pic and have never heard its cry or cradled its downy head or felt it grasp your finger. That little baby is already your son or daughter. And those giggly, silly teenagers we have only interacted with over an impersonal computer screen are already our sons and daughter. And we ache and long for them every single day.
It's such a paradox because last Mother's Day, I never imagined that I would have five children by this Mother's Day. NEVER. Never, never, never. And yet since September, I never imagined that I would not have them physically present on this Mother's Day. Much like Easter, every thought I have had about tomorrow included them being here.
And I just.want.them.here.
I am so grateful that we get to Skype with them. But I want to talk to them in person. I am so grateful that God's miracles have allowed us to be their parents. But I want to hug them. I am so grateful that we get the rest of our lives to spend with them. But I want to sit around the table tomorrow with them at our sides. I want to stand beside them in church. I want to hear their laughter tonight as we eat chili (and rice, if they were already here, I guess). :) I want to hear the rumble of their voices talking as they go to sleep tonight. I want to be at home with them this week, spending time getting to know each other.
I know that people are grieving children they have lost before birth, children who never were, children who are estranged, children who have perished. I know that this day is so hard for so many. And I truly hate that those people are living through that pain and those situations. I know it is selfish of me to want my kids to be here when I am so blessed to have these five kids. But it doesn't change how I feel. I still want them to be here. I want them to be here for me and I want them to be here for them. I want them to have the hug of a mom on Mother's Day.
But instead, I will spend tomorrow being loved on by the ones who are here and they will no doubt spend it loving on the ones who have served the role of mom for them for these past few years. And we will all treasure the day while waiting in joyful anticipation of next year, May 13, 2018, our first Mother's Day all together.
It's such a paradox because last Mother's Day, I never imagined that I would have five children by this Mother's Day. NEVER. Never, never, never. And yet since September, I never imagined that I would not have them physically present on this Mother's Day. Much like Easter, every thought I have had about tomorrow included them being here.
And I just.want.them.here.
I am so grateful that we get to Skype with them. But I want to talk to them in person. I am so grateful that God's miracles have allowed us to be their parents. But I want to hug them. I am so grateful that we get the rest of our lives to spend with them. But I want to sit around the table tomorrow with them at our sides. I want to stand beside them in church. I want to hear their laughter tonight as we eat chili (and rice, if they were already here, I guess). :) I want to hear the rumble of their voices talking as they go to sleep tonight. I want to be at home with them this week, spending time getting to know each other.
I know that people are grieving children they have lost before birth, children who never were, children who are estranged, children who have perished. I know that this day is so hard for so many. And I truly hate that those people are living through that pain and those situations. I know it is selfish of me to want my kids to be here when I am so blessed to have these five kids. But it doesn't change how I feel. I still want them to be here. I want them to be here for me and I want them to be here for them. I want them to have the hug of a mom on Mother's Day.
But instead, I will spend tomorrow being loved on by the ones who are here and they will no doubt spend it loving on the ones who have served the role of mom for them for these past few years. And we will all treasure the day while waiting in joyful anticipation of next year, May 13, 2018, our first Mother's Day all together.
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