Silver Lining

Goodness, there are so many things people don't tell you about adoption post-airport.  And it's probably because nobody told them about it either, and they're withering under the guilt of their feelings.

Well, you can always count on me to tell it like it is!  But in all seriousness, I don't think I would be making it right now if it weren't for the moms ahead of me reaching back, grabbing my hand, encouraging me to press on and rest in the truth that this is all completely normal and temporary.  Thanks, mamas.  You know who you are.

The thing is, I was as prepared as you can be for trauma, fits, raging, culture shock, grief, for attachment to take time.  What I was not prepared for was how difficult it would be for me to feel like she is mine.  I mean, our daughter by birth drives me nuts constantly.  She is strong willed, stubborn, and bursting with energy.  But at the end of the day, I delight in her, and I know her beautiful heart; she is mine, and I love her all the way to the moon and back.  After all we went through to get JP here, all the battles, all the tears I shed, I did not expect to feel like someone in permanent nanny mode to another person's difficult child.  But again (thank you, adoptive mamas), I've been given the freedom to allow my own attachment to happen in its time.  And each day, I force myself to get out of bed, put one foot in front of the other, and give the only kind of love I can give: the choosing love.  The real love.  The love that only comes from the Holy Spirit at work in me, because I have nothing of my own to offer up right now.  The feelings will come.

And yesterday, I got a tiny glimpse of them.  A fellow Indimama just got word that they can travel to bring their daughter home from the same orphanage that JP was in.  They posted her picture on FB, and JP saw it over my shoulder.  She immediately said the little girl's name and the orphanage name, and started chattering to me.  She showed me how tall this girl was, and how old she was.  Then she started naming her other friends there and showing me their height and ages with her hands and broken English.  It's silly, but I felt myself tearing up.  I think it is the first time in our almost two months together that we simply had a communicative interaction that did not involve a want, need, defiance, or just mindless gibberish for the sake of sound.  She was just telling me a story about something that was important to her.  It made me so happy.  I got to see a little bit of her heart, the real child underneath.  I got to enjoy a moment with her that was just sharing.  I had a little tiny glimpse of feeling my heart swell with love for her as a person, not an idea, not a responsibility, but a person.  Maybe those moments are the exception rather than the rule, but I'll take the silver lining as proof  that the sun does exist behind the clouds.