Time used to crawl so slowly while we were WAITING and now it seems to fly by.
As of June 3rd, we were declared a family in a US court. I let the date slip by unmentioned until I got the actual word last week from our lawyer in the States and today we got the order of judgment in the mail. I suppose I always felt he was “ours” when we came home, but now we don’t have to have any more visits from our social worker, or feel like we have to prove our worthiness to parent. There is a sense of relief. We were notified we would have to wait months for his birth certificate which of course slows down his immigration process, but whatever. I emailed Baby K’s birthmother recently just to see how she was and to update her on his progress so far. I didn’t mention the court date but I suppose she knows already.
Hubby is not keen on me initiating contact, but I will always have deep compassion for her and I know how much she loves him. Deep down, I know he cares, but he’s protective over his new family unit. Of course, I will be the link to her that our son will need, no matter what.
Baby K is getting big. 18 lbs and climbing, he’s a lean, muscle machine. At six months, he is eating solids now and it seems like I spend the whole day feeding or getting ready to feed the little bugger. He lets me know whether he wants his formula or food with a series of sharp EHHHHs or whines. When he doesn’t want something, he turns his head away and throws up his hand. He really likes applesauce and banana rice cereal and the TV remote (thanks, daddy). He smiles a lot and every time I see that toothless grin, it melts my heart. He reaches for me and presses his mouth against my face, a kiss I think. He’s really loud in the morning and crows and babbles from the time he gets up (invariably at first light) to when he goes down for the night. Next up on the plate, turning off the monitor so we can get another hour of shut eye. Curiously, he doesn’t make a peep when people stare at him. He just stares back silently and with great concentration. He’s well aware of who his family and who is not.
He loves his daddy, his feet kick like crazy and he grins broadly when he sees him walk in. I don’t blame him; it’s daddy who tickles him until he screams with laughter and flies him across the living room. Of course, he does the same when I walk in the room to get him up for the day. I imagine him thinking why does she insist of trying to cut my nails, clean my ears, clean my nose, comb my hair, wipe and moisturize my face and then try and teach me stuff ALL DAY LONG?! He rolls over and wriggles and loves scratching at things with texture: his bibs, my thick terry housecoat (perfect for absorbing drool, spit up and sprayed out bits of pureed food), daddy’s face, Juno’s wagging tail. He doesn’t care for his sunhat unless he chewing on it. He enjoys exploring all his toys and adores his Ugly Doll. The Exersaucer gives him independent entertainment for minutes and gives me both my hands back to complete other tasks.
I love to listen to him squeal in delight as his daddy blows on his stomach while he changes him. He is now enjoying his baths which makes for a very wet mummy. He is such a fun little guy, even when he wakes up raring to go at dawn.
When I think back to the time when I thought I might have to give him back, in the wee hours of the night with his big dark eyes staring into mine. All I could do was chant for the best outcome for all. I was willing to give him if that’s what was going to happen. I loved him then. In that moment, I wanted to be numb, but he got into my soul anyway.
So much of this adoption process was difficult and gut wrenching. I had no idea when we first started out how difficult it would prove to be. If I had known…? When we came home, I was basically in shock and I had to figure out that I was indeed not dreaming. Someone, well, his biological mother had entrusted me to raise this child. He was no fashion accessory, he was real, he was live – 24/7, 365 little human being. We spent a lot of time cocooning as a family, trying to take it all in. We had to get to know each other. I needed to heal. In truth, he wasn’t very interesting for the first 2 months, he was a bit of bump on a log. He required feeding, burping and wiping. He was like that frog in the Looney Tunes cartoon that would just sit there and ribbit every time that poor bum tried to show off his singing talent.
I loved feeding him in the middle of the night. Strange, but true. It was quiet and there was nothing to be done but just be there. I poured my heart out from my eyes into his. I did reiki on him so that he didn’t have to worry, that he could connect with my energy, so that he wouldn’t feel lost in this world, to know that I would always be there for him. I chanted daimoku to him so that he would know the song of the universe.
Six months later, his toothless grin fills my heart. My husband has cried tears of joy by simply just holding him. He has pushed me beyond my comfort zone, he has pushed me into the face of my fear and demanded equal time with my sadness. He’s winning. Special K. I have never posted pics of him before because I wanted to guard his privacy and because I felt so protective over his very image. But he’s officially a part of our family now – as the papers say “…. the child of the petitioners… the same as if born in wedlock.” And a mama has a right to be proud.