The real story is that adoption is more guts than glory. That meeting a ten year old child who has grown up without parents, proper nutrition or a regular education is novel as a rescue but can wear thin quickly as part of family life. The real story is that you don’t always fall in love right away, that’s its easier to ooh and awww over a picture than over the real live version who drools over his sodas in the restaurant, picks up trash to use as toys and doesn’t always seem to understand the value of washing his hands or his body.
The truth is that what is different than us requires a choice to love. I may have been born to bring home this ten year old child but it is no more natural to me than jumping off a a bridge would be. I simply have chosen to do it; and if you ask my close friends you will learn that I whine a lot on the way.
The real story is that we fall in love little by little and also all at once. The real story is that it takes tremendous courage to envelop an unknown DNA into your own when they are fully formed and have learned their own ways of doing life. The truth is that many moments require something a lot bigger than me.
That’s where you all come in. Our community. Walking us through the very worst of flu post-placement and the emotions that range the map. Talking us through, listening us through, praying us through. Loving our new son beyond yourselves.
The real story is that love is enough. And yet it isn’t all.
I hope you can read between the lines here. This is hard. This is beautiful. This is love.