I have a constant sense of deja vu lately. Like I’m in in my own adoption-themed version of groundhog day. But I’m not repeating a day I’m repeating a year. We accepted our two referrals almost exactly thirteen months apart. And it’s a strange feeling going through the holidays and feeling so many of the same feelings I felt last year. Thinking the same hopeful thoughts of “next year our family will be together.” Waiting on the same paperwork. I even got mixed up thinking that I had sent in a form that our agency said I hadn’t. But sure enough when I went back and look at my files I was just remembering doing it last year. What can I say, immigration paperwork makes a lasting impression.
When we dressed up Thane like a Dragon and took him to Nate’s work party I remembered thinking last year that we would have a baby to dress up for it and wondering what that would be like and what he would go as. And this year I thought the same thoughts about K.
Then Thanksgiving came and our family felt incomplete, missing someone. We put K’s picture on our dining table and I once again found myself thankful for a baby I loved but hadn’t met yet.
I decorated the tree and thought next year – he’ll be home. The same Christmas song that got me through last year will get me through this year too.
The danger of course is that in hoping for what’s coming I’ll miss what I have. And I have so much. I look at Thane and like I sing to him “you’re that star up in the sky, you’re that mountain peak up high, hey you made it, you’re the world’s greatest” (yeah, I like repurposing 90’s pop into lullabies.) So while we settle into another holiday season with our heart in two places I try to remember that. Remember to bottle up everything that’s happening and tuck it inside my heart. I’m never going to get this time back. I have to take in all the moments I can.
And we’ve had some of the best moments the last few days. Sitting on the couch, the three of us. Thane laughing his head off because I was using his hands to squeeze my cheeks into a funny face. Listening to him say “uggamugga.” Or asking him if he wants us to squish him and having him say back “kish me” and we hug him between us. Or hearing him laugh in his sleep while he was sleeping on my lap. Hearing his little “hiii mommeee” first thing in the morning. Or waking up to see him curled up in his daddy’s arms fast asleep. Those are some cave paintings for the soul right there.
Getting kicked in the face first thing in the morning not so much, but that’s not going to last forever either. Thankfully.