1 month

Ethan has been with us just over one month now. I commented to another family in our travel group recently that it feels like SO much longer...in a good way. I can't think of another word to describe him except "delightful". From the steady stream of smiles and giggles, to his sloppy open-mouthed kisses, to his cleverness and the funny way he tucks his blanket under his chin before he has a bottle, and (best of all) the tiny pats of his hand on my back when we snuggle. I keep waiting for the honeymoon to end (I'm a realist that way...Chris calls it "doomsday thinking" but "realist" sounds so much less harsh, don't you think?) Of course, I don't exactly know what that would entail or what I am afraid of. Maybe deep down I think the transition has gone TOO smoothly. Like maybe he is TOO happy. Like whatever tenuous bonds we now have are just superficial. Like we might still all wind up in therapy a few years from now. And maybe we will, but there is no doubt in my mind that this is the child God has chosen for us. When we were in China, I was surprised at how much the people there believe in "predestination." Our guide told us that when Chinese see an American couple with a Chinese baby, they immediately think that "destiny" has brought us together. Of course while many Chinese people believe in the power of the "universe", we know that this power comes from God. I don't know if I've ever blogged about how we received Ethan's referral. I actually tried to decline his referral...TWICE! Very early on in our process (right after our application was approved, I think) our agency offered to match us. Knowing we were still about a year away from traveling and because of everything we went through with Mayah (holding her referral for over 9 months and then her passing away shortly before we traveled) I had made up my mind that I wanted to be matched as late as possible in the process. I suppose my rationale was that if something bad happened, I would not be so attached to this child. I realize this was a slightly dysfunctional approach, but that's where I was at. And so we went along, compiling our dossier, completing our homestudy, without a match. Shortly after we completed our homestudy, I received an email about a potential match for us. I promptly emailed the woman back and said thanks, but no thanks. She emailed again saying this child matched our checklist and we should really take a look at him. Of course I knew that if I actually looked at him, it would all be over. Nope nope nope, I replied. Then my cell phone rings. Same woman. I'm sure she thought I was crazy. I explained my line of reasoning, that it didn't feel like the right timing, and she reiterated that this WAS a good time for a match considering where we were in our paperwork. Yeah, yeah, I was unconvinced. Then she said the words, "He's the last child on the list." Mayah and Alina were "the last child on the list" too. Meaning they had found matches for all the files sent in that batch except for ONE. And then I looked at the date: April 27. The same day three years ago that we received Alina's referral. I am generally not overly conscious or attributing so much spiritual significance to dates or "signs from God" but I felt like God was, at the very least, trying to get my attention. So I opened the pictures on my email. Here was this beautiful baby, grinning from ear to ear in spite of his cleft, and, as I knew it would be, that was all she wrote. Game over. I was hooked. Although I am pretty sure we are done growing our family, I can definitely see how families adopt again and again and again. It is one of the most thrilling experiences of a lifetime. Not to downplay pregnancy and birth, which are very miraculous indeed. I think adoption requires a unique "stretch" of ones faith which compares to few things in the parenting arena. I've said it before, that there is nothing like an adoption to make you feel completely helpless. No control whatsoever. This little life that is neither in your body nor in your hands. Months and months of waiting. Pouring over a single solitary picture. Without an update. And the countless other defining moments...choosing a name (YOUR name), clicking the "buy now" button for the airline tickets, leaving your other children behind, the raw nerves of waiting for your child to walk (or be carried) out to you on gotcha day, during which the split second panic hits of "what have we done..." And then you hold him or her. Sometimes it feels "right" right away and sometimes even that takes time. But just look at what God did. The people and places and government agencies he has orchestrated to bring two lives together...and all without the slightest bit of assistance from us, I might add. As I am typing this Ethan is sitting on my lap in a soggy diaper and very sloppily enjoying his morning bottle. What a perfect way to commemorate 30 wonderful days together. Thanks, God.