Meeting Her

I’m scheduled to meet the little girl we are adopting from Eastern Europe in two weeks.  Tuesday morning, the awaited email arrived with an invitation to travel to complete the adoption.

I sat in front of my computer; the house quiet, kids already dropped off at school, my husband typing away on his keyboard at work, the dishwasher having finished it’s final rinse.  I was stunned, after working towards this goal for so long.  All I could do was blink.

We’re going to meet her.

I have a hard time imagining what I will do with my time when this adoption is complete.  My consumption of paperwork has been a heavy diet.  Scrambling around getting signatures and notaries, and nagging my husband to ‘do his part’ (translation, the stuff I can’t bring myself to tackle).  I’ve walked around the house with my shoulders perpetually up near the tops of my ears for almost a year.

We’re going to meet her.

There is so much to do between now and then; get two of our daughters ready for the trip, prepare our youngest daughter’s things to go to grandma’s house. purchase plane tickets. There’s more paperwork to compile to take with us, the bottom of the trash can needs cleaning, I have to find yellow bumper for the crib and have no idea what we are using for luggage.

We’re going to meet her.

Our adoption experience has made me scream out loud, to throw up my arms in frustration and to cry quietly on my husband’s shoulder, certain that a document is incorrect or that the money won’t be there. A layer deeper, fear and doubt mingle in my mind; certain I cannot, in actuality, care and love for another little girl the way I pretend I will.

We’re going to meet her.

It’s a new stage of life. We are about to be inaugurated into the club of adoptive families. I am not prepared. I catch my breath thinking about the first meeting. I wonder what damage has been to her after living in an orphanage for two and a half years. And I am keenly aware that still, at any point, this whole adoption could halt or even fall through which in turn makes me abundantly grateful for every baby step that gets us closer.

We’re going to meet her.

The hope is that ours will be an unforgettable reunion, a mother meeting her daughter who has grown in her heart but outside of her body, sisters welcoming another into the fold, a dad who stands amazed at the things God has asked him to do and yet so thankful for the opportunity.

We’re going to meet her.

In a short while, we will board a Boeing 747 and climb up, up, up through the clouds, the nose of the plane pointed in her direction, and we’ll spend a little time in the sun, above the world as we know it, in between our country and hers, speeding towards a new life as a family of six, for better or worse.

When she’s not up to her elbows in paperwork, Gillian also writes at Chicago Moms Blog and at her personal family blog Pocket Lint.

We’re going to meet her.ca-pub-3017103269052419

Originally posted 2009-05-31 08:00:04. Republished by Blog Post Promoter