Beyond Names...the Other Firsts

Before you continue on...

Some Prayer Requests:

{1} A fast and smooth closing on our house. We have signed the purchase agreement and have everything into the lender. We're just waiting on paper work. Waiting is our life's work...

{2} Our home study process. That all the paper work will be completed and given to the correct offices on the first try. That we will be approved shortly.

{3} For the children and families whose lives have changed, and with whom we will forever be connected. 

. : UPDATE : .

...at the bottom of the post

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He has learned to ride a bike, this once-little burly babe, and I can hardly believe how time does fly even when we feel it dragging slow. This child I have loved across the miles and through all life's moments these past few years. This child handed off to me between classes by grateful parents -- he with chubby cheeks and colicky ways and me astonished that someone would trust a broken barren woman to care for their boy. This child I cried with -- he when new to the world and missing mom's heartbeat, and I when mad at the world and longing to be that soothing heartbeat for another. 

And somehow she new, my friend, my Anam Cara, she knew I needed to hold new life, to know there is good, to just smell new baby and smile. And there he is, in all his awesomeness and excitement, riding a bike. My heart swells with love and pride -- for him and her. For she is growing amazing children.

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I wrote about names before. The names we have treasured and whispered. Hopeful secrets. And now these names we hold so tightly we may have to let go. And there is more.

First words. First bath. First food. First roll. First steps. First tooth. First birthday. First day at the zoo. First  winter and snow. First bike ride. First day of school.

A mother's grief is never ending. We grieve the dreams for a boy and we must let go when we have a girl. We grieve the dreams for a girl and we must let go when we have a boy. We grieve the simple, easy baby we had envisioned when they are sickly and colicky. We grieve the cuddling and hugs when they become independent. We grieve the independent life when we discover we have a clingy toddler. We send them to school, and watch them grow. And we grieve. Where did the baby we so desperately longed for go? He up and turned into a young man.

So maybe I'm just ahead of the curve here? Maybe I'm learning early what all moms must be skilled to do -- grieve well and carry on. But that's not at all how it feels.

.     .     .     .     .

He hates it.

Well, maybe not really hates it, but he definitely wants it to stop, to be the growing up teenager, if we would let him. But here we are, again, retelling and reliving every single story from his most adorable years, of which there are many! We throw our heads back in full body laughter. He rolls his eyes and sighs loud. We gasp in surprise at how easily we have forgotten. We smile proud and look long at this young man towering over us all who somehow was, once, the littlest. 

That time he knocked down the Christmas tree in the middle of the night.

That time he climbed into the fish tank…in the middle of the night.

That time Mom became the overenthusiastic sports parent.

That time he licked Jason's chicken dinner.

The things he said, the things he did. The way he changed our everything.

How he made our world exciting, surprising, everyday an adventure.

And I remember the first word. I remember the first bath, the first tooth, the first step, the first bike ride. I remember all of these things. Not because I kept meticulous journals and records.

I remember because I love him.

I remember because these moments are important. Because they are milestones, funny stories we would die to relive, crazy stories we believe only because we were there. Because we watch in amazement as this little strange baby ambles around and suddenly becomes his own person.

    

I know he wants us to see the young man he is, the man he is growing into. He wants to be the star football player, the championship marcher, the student driver. Not the little boy who got carried all day by his big sister. And definitely not the baby who said "Booka booka" when he wanted juice.

But we sit around the kitchen table, around the fire, in the car and talk about all these moments and memories because we love him.

And later, when he is all grown up and out in the world on his own, has children of his own he will treasure the wellspring of memories we all have. And he will know always that he is loved.

…Or maybe he will still hate it. Well, too bad, Bro. Too bad.

.     .     .     .     .

I think about the firsts, the milestones and cute stories that I might never be able to tell. And it's true, there are always firsts. But all are not the same. The first word is much more cute and amazing than the first brain freeze from a slushy.

I struggle intensely with this, not that I would change anything. This road to adoption and adopting waiting children has been an amazing adventure and, quite honestly, it's our calling. BUT…I do struggle. I struggle to grieve what I must without feeling guilty for grieving. The counselor in me says "I am a real, honest, self-aware person who recognizes the need for and process of grieving in order to move forward in a healthy manner." But the others parts of me wonder, Am I an ungrateful person, a critical person, for allowing this to bother me so? Shouldn't I just be happy?

I guess the truth is -- we all grieve. And although we might not like it or think it unnecessary, we grieve and we move forward. Not forgetting, but learning and growing. We all live in the unexpected life. We all experience the now differently than we thought it would be 5 years ago. And that's part of the beauty of the adventure.

Oh, I'm babbling…

And really, though I would do nearly anything to see all of their firsts, it's not about me.

They deserve their firsts. They deserve the silly, crazy, funny, embarrassing stories of firsts and adventures. They deserve pictures and albums and retelling. They deserve to have these minor and monumental moments treasured, recorded. They deserve to know how they too made our world exciting, surprising, everyday an adventure.

They deserve to know that someone loved them from the first breath.

A child adopted out of foster care at 2 years old does not come with a photo album describing firsts. There is no file detailing the silly misadventures of this child, my child, learning to walk or eating first foods. We have the memories of the foster parents, if they were the foster parents at the time.

And no matter how much I long to bring the chronicles of firsts to them, no matter how much I believe they deserve it, how much they do truly deserve it…I might not be able to. And it breaks my heart.

I can come to terms with my unexpected life. But I would give anything to give them something them a normal beginning.  

And maybe it won't matter to them later on.

Maybe we'll find the stories and moments.

Or maybe we'll be that crazy odd couple running around creating firsts everyday

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. : UPDATE : .

This afternoon the good man and I are scheduled to complete our second home study visit. 

We have also paid for and sent in our background studies and handed over much of the paper work. We're hoping to have our home study completed and approved before December. But in order to do so, we need to have all of our house stuff figured out too! So much going on! 

Thanks for reading, for learning about adoption, and for your support!