The Tough Stuff.

It's 3am.
I have been in bed staring at the ceiling for the last hour thinking of all the little things that I have missed in my girls lives. The first steps, first smiles, first giggles, things that parents rejoice in and share with the world. I don't mourn those moments, but I wonder about them. I wonder what it was like for them, for their family. I wonder what the laughter sounded like in their household, how discovery was rewarded and enjoyed.
I think of them often, the family that got to experience those precious moments with the girls. I can feel their mother with me sometimes, smiling, laughing, crying with her babies as they struggle through another transition or uncover a new source of joy. There are moments when I am certain her spirit is present in the room. I will hear Macie singing with her beautiful, clear voice or I'll see that witty twinkle in Ella's eye and I will find myself smiling, so thankful for the gifts their first parents gave them.
There is beauty in those moments. There is a very comforting sense of peace in knowing that the girls have been loved and cherished as I know they have. Their uncertainty of this new world peels away more and more each day. Their personalities begin to shine and they expose more of who they truly are. As this new relationship begins to establish itself, the gaps in communication open new windows to questions about the unknown history of our girls lives. In our case, it has also brought on a new sense of loss that no one could really have prepared me to feel.
Let me explain. I've likely fumbled over wording already, but be patient while I try to get this out in writing.
You see, we adoptive parents don't generally like to talk about this part of things. We don't like to talk about the hard parts. The harder reality of it. We don't like to talk about the questions we have that we will never have the answers to. We don't want to discourage others from the gift that adoption is. We don't want to seem ungrateful for the amazing lives that have been entrusted into our care and we don't want to battle an unearned stigma after we have already fought through so many other ones just to bring our children home.
That said, there is balance in all things and this process is no different. For each precious moment of joy, there is also a very real struggle with the loss. The reality, while hard to write down, needs to be talked about. It is a complicated mix of emotions that no one can prepare you for or try to explain (though I am making a sad attempt at it anyway).
There is a very definite grief. Grief for the kids. Grief for any living relatives. Grief for the country that the children said goodbye to, and grief for the adoptive parents who somehow take on all that pain and carry a pain of their own as well.
It is difficult to express to someone why the giggle that creeps out of your children's chests can bring tears of sadness to your eyes, or why it is hard to see them learn English, only to lose the beauty of their own language.
There is a guilt that comes in raising children that were, and in some cases still are, so greatly loved by their biological parents. There is difficulty in knowing that we can so easily provide what they could not possibly have, just because of the country they were born in.
There are so many little things, things I can't begin to list off, that add twists and turns to the roller coaster of emotion that continues even after you bring your children home.
We walk this path of adoption, trusting in God's timing and in his purpose, but don't think for a minute, that there aren't hundreds of questions along the way. Some questions that are typical of any parent, some that are set aside and unique to adoption itself. All of them equally as important and just as complex as the next.
I don't know how to do this parenting thing any better than anyone else. In fact, I'm quite certain that I still have much more to learn that I can comprehend.
Still, I will take each day, each question, each emotion and I will let myself struggle with it until it unravels itself and direction becomes clear. In the meantime, trust that our girls are miraculous, brilliant, beautiful and loved beyond reason.
Thanks for the ear, Beth