I have been obsessed with time lately and how quickly it passes. It's been OVER TWO YEARS since I came home with Hannah! Where did my baby go? Am I really buying 4T clothes? Did we really just give away the last of the pull-ups?
The second year was totally, completely different from the first year. I have a feeling the third year is shaping up to be even better.
I am going to be completely candid here, and let my friends in on a secret, something I don't do a lot in blog-world. The first year was beautiful, wonderful....and so, so hard. I felt so many emotions for my daughter. I felt compassion, tenderness and love. But I felt sad and angry and hurt for her and all she had been through in her first 8 months of life. I felt angry at the world for being so unfair to it's youngest and most innocent. I also spent most of the year tired, in every sense of the word. Tired of the insecurities and tantrums and indiscriminate affection. Tired of constantly holding, rocking, swinging (oh my the swinging) attempting to make up for 8 months of sensory deprivation. Tired of people telling me how lucky I was that she was so "normal." Looking back on it now from a place of love and trust, I know that I did my very best and we did really well. But, at the time I felt inadequate.
Adoption is a difficult path even under the best of circumstances. Adoption was the best decision I ever made, and I always said this would be an adoption advocacy blog, but I think one part of advoctating is realizing that adoption is not for the faint of heart. I remember first seeing her 5 month old picture and it was so beautiful. She took my breath away and I wanted her so much. I felt so lucky. But I had to learn that, though love can be instantaneous, attachment takes time. It was an effortful process. People tend to minimize the trauma involved with adoption because they think love will cure all. It doesn't. I could write a book on the joy of bonding, but looking back, I will never say that it wasn’t difficult or that it took only love. It took perseverance. It took research. It took determination. It took a lot of tears. Love is prerequisite, it’s foundational, it’s a given, but it’s not enough.
Another secret is that I am not the mom I thought I would be, and I do a lot of things I said I never would. I know some of the mommy guilt is media-driven &%$*, but some of it is valid and I strive to be better when I can.
The mother I want to be has the perfect balance between work and home. She has a fulfilling career and more than enough time to spend with her child.
The mother I am is usually rushed, wakes up exhausted, and worries a lot about being stretched in too many directions...and drives through McDonalds...a lot.
The mother I want to be is patient, nurturing, and enjoys pushing her child on the swing for hours on end.
The mother I am often stares at the clock WILLING it to be 8:00pm, sometimes loses her temper, and sometimes lets Nick Jr. babysit so I can read my book or talk to my BF (yep, there is a boyfriend; secrets spilling out like crazy in this blog).
And so it goes.
I don't believe in the word "perfect", but I can honestly say, after two years, we are in a really good place right now. As we make our way through our third year, I have learned and accepted that life is a constant clash of ideology and reality. It is strength of character, not body that helps us live in the Truth and Walk in the Light. Tears of joy and tears of happiness often taste the same. Fullfillment is a decision that you make, every second of every day. Speaking of which, I need to stop ruminating on the past and get back to the present.
My daughter wants me to push her on the swing.
Hannah burst into song as we walked into church...a worship song? Nope. Red Solo Cup.
She then proceeded to tell the Easter Bunny that she didn't want him in her house, but he could leave her basket on the porch. She also requested hair extensions.
Her Easter sheep cupcake (thank you pinterest) Marshmallows and Oreos
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