Four years ago today I put a babbling fourteen-month old baby and a semi-sick six-year old child into the car and drove (quickly, but by no means recklessly) to a city some two hours away for the purpose of picking up my infant son.
Except that then he wasn’t my son. “It’s only for a few weeks,” I told everyone, but despite the fact that a few weeks have stretched into four years (and more importantly that we are in possession of parental rights surrenders and a judge’s decree) I can hardly believe even now that he won’t someday have to leave.
Out of all the reproductive choices I made from the age of sixteen on, taking that child was the one that most shaped my family.
I wish I could say that I’ve responded to the chaos of the past four years in positive ways each and every time, but the fact of the matter is that I’ve failed. I’ve failed, I sometimes think, much more frequently than I’ve succeeded; I can only hope that the successes stand out in his mind more vividly than do the failures.
Last night a shadow appeared at my bedside a few minutes before 3am. “Mommy, can I get in bed with you?” the shadow asked, and for once I snapped wide enough awake to answer in something other than a grumbly mumble. I inquired with much more patience than one might think possible why it was that his own bed was not sufficient.
“A bug,” he told me, not waiting for any more of an invitation to climb under the comforter. “There’s a bug in my bed.”
In the middle of a frigid February I felt nearly certain that his bed was as bug-free as mine; nevertheless I scooted over and pulled the cover up to his solid little shoulders. “There’s no bugs here, baby,” I said, and as he wedged his body into the nook he’s been the right size for at every age from birth until now, I realized that he belongs here, not because of some heavenly pre-ordination but because we have made him fit, and that’s both far simpler and far more difficult than relying on guidance from God.
Beautiful! People like you remind me that there are in fact good people left…
God bless you aag
I love this. We adopted my son, and not a day goes by that I do not marvel at the fact of the perfect fit.
It is rare that a few words on a page move me to tears…today yours did. Thank you.
And no matter how big he gets, he’ll always fit in your heart.
It’s funny how sometimes the square peg polishes itself into a pefectly round one.
Yep, that’s pretty much how it happens.
:)
peace…
I just got interviewed by local media and they asked what sites I like. I plugged yours!
I lurves you. Not that I didn’t before… :)
Congrats. It is perhaps a little more difficult to bond so thoroughly with a child who is not of your genes, but only of your heart. But many people do it every day, and I think this is your “Successful Completion” of the process. Four years ago, you told me that it would be temporary, and I believe I reminded you almost precisely 4 years ago that after 6 months, it might was well be a formal adoption.
I am glad that you have done so well with YOUR new son. Make him a man that you can be proud of.
maybe it’s because I’m on my period, or maybe it’s because it’s just that touching, but this brought tears to my eyes. he’s a lucky kid.
Very beautiful! However, this upsets me:
“I wish I could say that I’ve responded to the chaos of the past four years in positive ways each and every time, but the fact of the matter is that I’ve failed. I’ve failed, I sometimes think, much more frequently than I’ve succeeded; I can only hope that the successes stand out in his mind more vividly than do the failures.”
Maybe it upsets me because I understand it, but when spoken by another I see how unfair it is to self-judge in this manner. I have written similar words of ‘failure’ within the last month even (although on a different subject), feeling fully justified in my self-criticism. But reading this here and now, I see how totally unjust I was to myself. It is a common thread in my way of thinking: my failures. I’m not sure what it is that makes some of us take on guilt rather than pride, but I see that there is no reason for anything but joy and pride to resound through you in this. Perfection is an illusion, and expecting such will only lead to constant disappointment. I suspect that your little four year old son would agree that you are by far the best thing in his life. And isn’t it an accomplishment to be everything to someone, even if it is only for a glimmer of time?
carolynn
I think I mentioned to you sometime before that I was adopted, at birth. I just turned 44 years old, and I am going to meet my birth parents for the first time in just a few weeks. Let me be clear, I know who my parents are, they raised me and made me the man I am. However without their love I never would be strong enough to do this, to be me, and to meet my biological parents. However your writing teaches me that I am not the only one who was shaped, and I hope they look at me with such love.
Thank you, so much.
Oh, I hope it goes well. You’ve talked to them on the phone? Are you getting some help from an agency? Or a counselor? Some kind of facilitator?
I used a facilitator to initiate contact, but from here on out it is just me. I have spoken to them both separately and look forward to meeting them both separately too. April 9th, mention it to your deity of choice if you remember.
I asked about an agency because the one I used is really good about working with anyone (really anyone) who is setting up a meeting. Might not hurt to call around to agencies in your area to see if any do the same.
Let me know how it goes?
Doesn’t sound like failure to me. Well done!
I had no idea. It sounds like you’ve done an amazing job x