Yesterday while we were outside playing, I commented to a fellow adoptive father, "I think they're all probably a bit older than we were told..." To which he replied "No, we have his actual birthdate."
Why did I ask??
But I did.
"When is his birthday?"
"December 29th."
I sucked in my breath. That was Oskar's birthday--well, it was the day I discovered he was no longer moving anymore. The day the nightmare began. A day that will forever be frozen in my memory.
And then I realized that his soon-to-be son was actually born on the same day, the very same year.
It was too much. I felt my legs go weak. My heart raced. Tears flooded and I got up to run off...but remembered the trauma of Zareb when I took a phone call away from the crowd so I could hear. (He flipped out thinking I'd abandoned him--his deep seated fear.) So I quickly bundled him up in my arms and ran off to find a quiet place.
I found some stairs that overlooked Lake Victoria. Gorgeous colorful flowers dotted my view. I sobbed. Zareb looked quite alarmed. I snuggled into him. And then I realized it.
We have BOTH had deep pain in our lives to bring us to this point.
Tears are not unfamiliar to my Ugandan son. It's not a happy childhood that avails a child to adoption.
"Please don't cry Mommy," he said lovingly later when we got back to the room. His tender heart had remembered me, so broken, on the stairs and he sought to bring me comfort. I thought it was interesting...one of the books that brought me great comfort during my grief after Oskar died was titled that same thing, Please don't cry, Mommy.
It may seem like adoption is merely paperwork and rejoicing, but there's a layer of pain and harsh reality that underlies it all. I am grateful to God for the pain (and great healing!) He has permitted in my life.
Perhaps I am better able to help my son with his past as well.
Why did I ask??
But I did.
"When is his birthday?"
"December 29th."
I sucked in my breath. That was Oskar's birthday--well, it was the day I discovered he was no longer moving anymore. The day the nightmare began. A day that will forever be frozen in my memory.
And then I realized that his soon-to-be son was actually born on the same day, the very same year.
It was too much. I felt my legs go weak. My heart raced. Tears flooded and I got up to run off...but remembered the trauma of Zareb when I took a phone call away from the crowd so I could hear. (He flipped out thinking I'd abandoned him--his deep seated fear.) So I quickly bundled him up in my arms and ran off to find a quiet place.
I found some stairs that overlooked Lake Victoria. Gorgeous colorful flowers dotted my view. I sobbed. Zareb looked quite alarmed. I snuggled into him. And then I realized it.
We have BOTH had deep pain in our lives to bring us to this point.
Tears are not unfamiliar to my Ugandan son. It's not a happy childhood that avails a child to adoption.
"Please don't cry Mommy," he said lovingly later when we got back to the room. His tender heart had remembered me, so broken, on the stairs and he sought to bring me comfort. I thought it was interesting...one of the books that brought me great comfort during my grief after Oskar died was titled that same thing, Please don't cry, Mommy.
It may seem like adoption is merely paperwork and rejoicing, but there's a layer of pain and harsh reality that underlies it all. I am grateful to God for the pain (and great healing!) He has permitted in my life.
Perhaps I am better able to help my son with his past as well.
No words to tell you how much I love this friend!
ReplyDeleteAs long a you have as much truth for him as you can possibly have it will be okay. As long as you know without even the smallest doubt that everything was done to make sure his first family had no other choice it will be okay. As long as you can answer the really hard questions that will come honestly you will be okay. As long as
ReplyDeleteYou know he can go back and find his family someday and know that they made this choice with no strings attached it will be okay.
These are all things that make Uganda great. That we as adoptive parents have the right to make sure these things are done right for our new children. To make sure that we will nit add tremendous pain later because is a shady adoption.
((((hugs)))))
Sorry you had a hard day. :(
No words would be adequate - really. Just want to say that I love you and I love what you are doing. Your life and this precious little boys life will be changed forever. May this JOY bring you an even greater measure of healing. I love you!
ReplyDelete