Waiting, waiting, and still more waiting

It's been quite a while since we've had any significant or positive news to share. It was easy to believe that the time leading up to our first visit, when we would first meet our new son, would be the most difficult. That stage was filled with uncertainty, but we had things to do, tasks to fulfill, and so our restlessness and animosity were occasionally quieted. Kate is wholly credited with these victorious moments, I reaped the benefits but did very little to earn them.

Looking back, that stage was far easier than the one we find ourselves in now. We didn't dare to hope that our meeting would go as well as it did. We bonded with our new son so quickly and so deeply that's it'd be scary if we didn't have some grounding in faith. Faith that this boy is, and has always been, a part of our family. So, what's the problem? That's terrific, even miraculous news. It really is, and nothing I share is meant to diminish that in any way. In fact, given that, our current struggles are predicfable, they're almost cause and effect. How does someone leave their child in another country, with an open-ended and completely ambiguous time frame for reunion? How, as a parent, do you sleep soundly at night with the knowledge that your son is a few thousand miles away, when distance is only one of the many barriers keeping you apart?

To make matters worse, we've suffered a two month set back due to some mishandling of vital paperwork by our adoption agency. That's two months we can't ever get back and it's really hard to let that go. Adopting isn't cheap, both financially and emotionally. The agency you charge with this responsibility doesn't take either lightly. In our case, they are some of the most kind and loving people we have ever met. And aside from this snafu, they've handled our case flawlessly. How can we stay be mad at someone just for being human, for making an honest mistake? Until very recently, I've struggled with that question, waffling back and forth between superficial forgiveness and deep seeded anger. Today, on Easter of all days, I've come to a different conclusion that has allowed me to direct my frustration elsewhere. Throughout this most recent ordeal, we've maintained that, while we don't appreciate the timing, we believe that it is and will be perfect. That means that the delay is not the fault of our adoption agency at all. It's not even an accident. Human error may have been the catalyst, but our son isn't home because it isn't time yet. Maybe we aren't really ready. Maybe our family needed this extra time to become accustomed to the idea of a new family member living among us. Maybe he needs the extra time to get used to the idea that he'll be leaving everything he's ever known for something uncertain. It could be all of these things or none of them, but it isn't remotely because of a clerical error, not really.

So, we video chat, text bad and broken translations, and send emojis back and forth with our new son when time zones and schedules allow. It's not perfect, but it's something to be thankful for. When we are finally reunited, it will be for good. It will change our lives forever, like any child does, and it will be glorious and transformational. I'm hopeful that his life will be enriched as much or more than ours. I know we'll love him like he was born to us.

Happy Easter L. We love you, miss you, and we anxiously await your arrival.