Quarter Year

RebeccaUncategorized0 Comments

Happy New Year!!!

Okay, now that fun is out of the way…

Today was a wee bit rough, but what did I really expect when I let the boys stay up to watch the ball drop?  They were dragging butt this morning, and by noon, I was pretty sure I needed a conch shell and a pig to slaughter.

Come on, follow the literary reference, peeps.  It’s all I’ve got.

Right now that we’re on the same page.

So the boys are a wee bit unruly, which is tempered by a fantastic great-grandparent visit from PA.  If I haven’t said it before, Jason’s grandparents are among my very favorite people on the planet.  I would do just about anything for them, because they feel the same about us.  But anyway, so they take off back to PA, and the day is spent kind of managing the furious whining and crying of four over-tired boys.  Meanwhile, Princess Pumpkin is chilling with her new jungle gym and shooting looks over at their outbursts periodically.

Stupid New Years Eve.

But really, I expected this. No biggie.  7:30 pm hit, mama began to sing:

So off the boys took themselves to bed, and there was peace.

But this entry isn’t about our boys.  I figured today was perfect for a Princess Pumpkin update.

So tonight, I took Princess Pumpkin upstairs, decked her out in her jammies and sang her to sleep, as is our routine. There’s a couple songs we usually switch between.  The first, goes a little something like this:

I actually just had a sign like that made to hang next to her crib!

But the second, which is what I was singing to her tonight, is “Your Song,” by Elton John, which I’ve known I would sing to her since we started this process. 2 1/2 years ago.  I’m cheesy like that.

It’s so true, though.  And it dawns on me, as I’m holding her, stoking my finger over her irresistibly soft cheeks, that I’ve been singing to her, putting her to sleep in our home for three months today.  

A quarter of a year.

It’s so short a time, since we fell in love with her instantaneously, but when I think of how far she’s come, and the changes we’ve seen, the way she’s grown… it feels like she’s been here forever.  I mean, to her, she has really, over 1/3 of her little life.  In the last three months, she’s sleeping through the night, popped through two teeth, has quadrupled the amount of food she’s taking, and can get up on her hands and knees.  She’s outgrown everything we bought her when she first arrived, which totally doesn’t make me sad, since it means I get to go shopping again.  (Stop cringing, Jason.)

She smiles, and giggles, and torments the dog with zeal.  He totally lets her and comes back for more.  She lights up when the boys walk into the room, and she has the Bigs trained: if they walk by and she stretches her arms up, they’ll totally pick her up and love on her.  Smart, smart, smart little lady. Let’s face facts though: she’s had us from the moment they put her in my arms.

She’s been here a quarter year.  And it’s been the most hectic, beautiful, tear-jerking time of our life.

People keep asking us what’s going to happen with her, where she’ll end up.  The hardest part of this process is that she may have been here for three months, but we have no clue.  We’re not going to know for a really long time.  The best way to describe it?  This is not a sprint.  This is a marathon.  With hurdles.  Hell, it’s like the Spartan race, except you can lose something so much more precious than your sweat. Oh no, here, you lose your heart.

Today, as I was writing on the floor next to her, Brody came in and snuggled up to Princess Pumpkin.  I said, “You kinda like her, huh?” just joking around.

He responded.  “Yeah, I love her.  She can stay.”

I laughed, and said, “Oh, she can stay for a little while?” just teasing him.

He shook his head and got this fierce little look on his face.  “No, she can stay a long while.”

I kissed his forehead and sent him back to the toy room to argue over the new air-hockey table with his brothers.  Then I picked her up and sat her in my lap while I worked on my new book, and tried to soak her in.  What’s killing me is that it’s not just Jason and I in for this ride.  We brought our boys.  We brought this little angel home, and invited in the potential for heartbreak with her.  There are moments I think I’ll never forgive myself for doing that to them, but then I think about the breath of possibility that she could really… stay… and I know I wouldn’t have it any other way.

I’ve heard it said that adoption is not for the faint of heart.  So true.

That goes for the kids in this house too.  These boys are so strong, so protective of her, so doting.  She’s the only thing in this world they agree on, well, that and they’d all like Jason to come home.  Sooner than you know, boys.

She’s been here a quarter of a year, just a blink, a heartbeat really, but so much already of what she knows.  Only three months, but I already can’t imagine life without her. I don’t want to, but we also know it’s a distinct possibility we will.  After all, the goal here is to heal her biological family enough for her her to go home.  We’re the fall-back, the last resort.

Being second choice has never been so sweet.

So we’re loving her, and it catches me a little more every day, until I’m about ready to burst with the joy she brings into our home. We made the decision to treat her like she’s staying, and we’re standing by that.  Why? Because she deserves to be in a family, and we’re standing in her corner.  We’ll be her family up until the moment they tell us we can’t be any more. She deserves this kind of love, even if we have to be temporary. We keep saying the same prayer, that whatever is best for her is done, no matter how long it takes.

So today, she’s been with us for a quarter year, but she has our whole heart. Even Jason’s, who has never met her.  Want to know a secret?  That’s about to change very soon.

This is so not easy.

But this is so worth it, even if just for now.

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