TA, CA, and Two Weeks to Go

TA came in seven or less days like we prayed it would. Day 6. July 11 family day. CA came two days later for July 19. We are traveling with two of the families we prayed we would that we met at our training in February. God has been so good.

We booked all the things and didn’t sleep hardly at all for three days. Then we left the grid and headed to a family reunion. One we wouldn’t have made if the timing went according to my agenda.

I’m so glad it didn’t.

We were encouraged and loved on. We laughed and pretended the weight of the world wasn’t pressing in on our shoulders.  Your dad tried so hard not to work. There was ping pong and hot tubs and hugs, and a group date night. We breathed deep and on the drive back exhaled hard.

We left Charlotte (our dog) today for three weeks. It was harder than I expected it to be. I missed her when I dropped something while making dinner. While cleaning up after the kids after dinner (she usually takes care of that), and when we made popcorn (her fav). She will be pampered and spoiled, and so very loved. But she’s gone and I miss her.

In a week I will drop my boys off and be gone from them for two weeks.  I haven’t been away from them for more than three nights, ever. Two weeks of memories and fun they will make that I’ll miss most of the details of. And while we are apart major things are happening with us that they won’t ever be able to fully comprehend.

You research and learn and process, but at the end of the day this adoption gig is a giant leap of faith.  We jumped in knowing the good, the bad and the ugly. We prepared for the worst and hoped for the best. We did due diligence with books and training and prayer. We did insane amount of paperwork and forms and explaining to people for the bijillionth time how to notarize a document correctly. I signed my name until my hand hurt. I sorted, organized, scanned and FedExed. When I saw pictures I cried and couldn’t wait to hold you.  I marveled at how smart you were in the ten second video I watched a dozen times.

But in less than two weeks, we’ll be family, and you won’t know me. It will probably feel more like a kidnapping than a welcome home. Everything will be different for you.

And for us.

I won’t sit by the pool and watch my three kiddos play and be ok while I engage in conversation anymore. Who knows when the next date night will be. I’m not sure when I might be able to get my hair done again. Or take a shower. Or sleep.

When we started we knew we weren’t just getting a little girl. We were getting a culture, and a history and a whole country brought into our family. We didn’t just adopt Naomi, we adopted China, and Chinese New years, and birthparents we don’t know. We adopted the Great Wall and Mao. We adopted surgeries and pediatric cardiologists and the unexpected. We adopted therapies and medical bills, and possible IEP’s. We adopted a whole package, and while we are so very ready we are also a little anxious.

We are getting for better and for worse, in sickness and in health. We may be straight into surgeries, or therapies, or sleepless nights, or hitting and screaming. Or we may be straight into mama and dada and hugs and kisses. We don’t know.

Over and over I hear myself saying; we don’t know.

Naomi dear, you’re the plan. From July on, it’s all you. Maybe trips to see family will happen, and maybe the won’t. Maybe involvement in other kids activities will happen, maybe they won’t. Going forward, we will march to the beat of your drum as long as you need us to.

Your brothers and sister? We are all in. We are prepared for what that means. We aren’t just expecting you to come into what we’ve got going on and adapt. We want to serve you. And love you. And adapt to you. Which your brother knows may mean no travel ball. And your sister knows that may mean you break her toys and keep her up at night. And your other brother doesn’t care what it means because he would give you anything you needed without a second thought.

I’m so excited I can hardly stand it. And I’m more than a little scared. You probably are too. And we’ll just trust God that love conquers fear just like He says it does.