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 its 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.

The most surprising part so far about having our daughter home is my struggle with anger. And standing in line behind anger in the department store of my mind is guilt. I didn’t think anger was going to be one of the emotions I would experience after our daughter, Evangeline, was adopted from Ukraine this summer. I thought of other things; joy and fun and bonding and laughter. I thought of struggle and exhaustion and uncertainty and pain.

But I did not think of anger.

Until a year ago, I never seriously thought about adoption for our family. My husband and I talked on and off through the years about it but always in general terms.

“Wouldn’t it be great to adopt someday.”

“What a worth while thing to do.”

Then one day I was on a site called Reece’s Rainbow, a place that primarily helps children from all over the world who are orphaned and have Down syndrome, find families. I saw a little girl’s face and I knew that our lives were about to change again.

I heard from other mom that the process would be a lot of work; forms to fill out, meetings with a social worker, medical exams, preparing for a long overseas trip, getting our kids ready for the new addition, penny pinching. But the paper work was insurmountable; easily passing my expectations in the first few weeks. It became my job, I had a goal and I was working towards the hugest check ever to be marked off any list; adopting a child.