adoption & pregnancy

We're expecting to bring Kamelia home this June. So, basically, we're about 6 months pregnant with her, if you want to think about it in terms of a pregnancy. Our final piece of paperwork has been approved, so the rest of the process is in the hands of the foreign government. We may or may not receive updates along the way, but we will definitely receive an update shortly after our in-country court date (we will be represented by an agency there) when she is declared to be legally ours! 

I've been turning this over in my mind for a few years now: adoption and pregnancy. How are they different, how are they similar? I want to be careful here, because I know that both are sensitive subjects. I don't think anyone would argue with me, though, if I say that it is possible for some women to "accidentally" become pregnant. It is, however, not possible for any person, man or woman, to accidentally adopt. Please correct me if I'm wrong and there is some inadvertent adoption that I've not heard about yet. Maybe someone just accidentally managed to complete and submit piles of paperwork, run into a social worker at appointed intervals to share their life story, write several large checks, and possibly board an airplane and end up in a foreign country, all without knowing it - oops! No, adoption is never by accident. Adoption is an act of will. Adoption is intentional. Pregnancy may or may not be intentional. Both are beautiful. Both are ways that God uses to build families. But one may be more of a labor of love than the other. Please don't misunderstand me; the three times that God used my womb to create beautiful children brought challenges including nausea, mood swings, and of course labor and delivery. I worked hard for those children. I don't want to minimize the selflessness involved in a mother nurturing her child from conception to birth - in fact, I could write an entire post on Kami's birthmom, praising the sacrifice she made when she chose to carry and deliver her baby girl when she most likely knew that she wouldn't have the resources to care for her. But when I was pregnant, labor started whether or not I was ready - it was something that happened to me, something over which I had no control. The labor of love that is adoption didn't just happen to me spontaneously and naturally. I know I'll learn more about the comparisons and contrasts between these two miracles when Kami comes home.

There have been some wild (to me) questions since returning from trip one, the most notable being "Where are her parents?" (as I show them the picture of her with Mason and me) and "Why couldn't you get her when she was a baby?" We've found that there is widespread ignorance of the fact that babies are abandoned all over the world and raised in institutions where, guess what? They grow into abandoned children. But I don't want to be the kind of parent who rants over the crazy or rude questions she's asked. Instead I'm going to start bringing the photos with me so I can better explain what we saw on the trip. I've already promised to bring them next time I go to the grocery store because my bagger friend stood wide-eyed at my car for 30 minutes asking questions!

When God first drew my heart to the children of Kamelia's country, He did it in the wee hours of the morning as I nursed and snuggled newborn Isaiah. I remember weeping quietly in the middle of the night as I cradled and cared for Isaiah's tiny, spastic little body, thinking of the abandoned babies who looked just like my Isaiah yet had no one to answer their cries or welcome them gently into a kind world. From the beginning, adopting Kami has made me a better mother than I would be without her. You can imagine how much closer I held my baby and how much more intently I looked into my toddlers' eyes when they spoke, having the burden of orphans sitting so heavily on my heart. 

These days, having met our new daughter but having to wait to bring her home, I'm noticing that every adoptive mom (not sure about the dads here - adoption, like pregnancy, is very much a mom thing in many ways!) handles this wait differently. I have no right to comment on or critique how others handle it, but I can explain how it is for me. I have three children ages 4 and under at home all the time. I love it, I love them, and there is no one else I'd rather spend my days with. They are important. They are also very helpful in passing this time. I don't sit and pine for Kami or get teary-eyed that she isn't here yet. When I do get teary-eyed, it's from stepping back and seeing the beautiful rescue plan that God has in place for both her and for us, as His children. Four months is not even a nanosecond to God. He has plans for this time, and I'm not going to waste a single day of loving and teaching the three children He has already placed in my care. Do I want her here now? Yes, of course I do! But I have no option but to patiently wait on the LORD and trust Him to care for Kami, as He has so beautifully done for the past 7 years without a stitch of help from us. She is physically healthier than I had imagined an orphan could be. She is tough - in many ways, too tough - but she's needed to adapt to a very difficult environment to survive. Praying for her is the absolute best thing I can do for her right now as her mom. When we travel to pick her up, more practical mothering tasks will become possible, like giving her food and brushing her hair and teeth, reassuring her and building a relationship with her. Those will have to wait. 

Just the other night I was playing outside with the kids in the beautiful, warm evening sun, and it was absolutely idyllic. Little Isaiah was waddling around without a shirt, enjoying the March wind blowing through his too-long hair, and Eden and Ezekiel were doing exactly what 3- and 4-year-olds should be doing in their backyard. I saw a flash of Kami back here with us, as she will be in just a few short months. For the first time, she'll have the freedom to go outside at any time of day. She'll feel more sun and wind than she ever has in her life. She'll probably be mesmerized by birds and airplanes in the same way Isaiah is. Of course I wanted her here with us, but I didn't just feel an empty wish that she could be - I felt the hope that she will be. How can I mourn and cry for this child who is so close to freedom, in more ways than one? All she's ever known is those walls, and for her, that's life. But she knows there's something more, which is why she loves to stand by the window and stick her head out whenever possible. Her time there is short, and nothing is wasted. That's how I've been viewing the separation.