I have been struggling to write this one. Not because I don't have anything to say, but more on how to say it correctly.
Adoption is wonderful....wonderfully hard...wonderfully beautiful....wonderfully sad.
Adoption breaks you and puts you back together, more beautiful than you were before, because now there is this amazingly beautiful child that is a part of the mosaic of your life.
I adopted an infant (easier by many peoples definition) not by mine. We bonded quickly and by many standards easily. There was just him and I and so time together was constant. I wore him in Ethiopia, I wore him as we flew home and I wore him when we went out here at home. I wore him so he could feel my warmth, hear my heart and feel safe that he was cocooned in my life.
But what I have learned is I simply laid the foundation that I will need to continue to build. I have learned that PTSD doesn't care about age. I have learned that an infant will mourn the country he lost. He will mourn it through night terrors, he will mourn it in sobs that shake his small body, he will mourn it in quiet tears that roll down his sweet cheeks early in the morning or at night as he tries to find rest.
He will mourn for the mother who gave him life...for a father I know nothing about. He will feel worry or guilt that he hurts me as he mourns. And I will feel sadness that my greatest blessing comes from another mothers' greatest loss.
I have learned to FIGHT. I fight for him. I fight for his truth. I fight for understanding. As he grows and wants/needs more answers I will fight for those too.
I am stronger. He is stronger. And together we are stronger. We are strong because he can be weak in the moments he needs. He can miss her. He can miss Ethiopia. He can be angry. He can be sad. And at each stage I know now, what I didn't know as I started this process, that we will mourn again and I will give him the warmth of my body, the comfort of the sound of my heart and the knowledge that he is cocooned.
And he will look me in the eyes and call me mom.