It's well past midnight. The date is now October 5th. I sat in the chair for hours with an empty page opened on my laptop. Now, I type on my cell phone while laying in bed. Sleep eludes me.
My emotions have been all over the place lately. The adoption has been final for a week!! We are all Williams :) The kids are all doing well... Except on the days that they aren't. I've come to terms with the fact that my children, especially the ones who have had past trauma, will act years younger than their age or years older than their age and these two behaviors may only be moments apart. I'm not much different than them. Mine is more internalized.
I think about today and I am struggling with emotions on complete opposite ends of the spectrum. I want to have complete joy and I want to be focused on the celebration of James' Tenth Birthday and first birthday with us! I really am so thankful for the fun we've had fellowshipping, playing, and pumpkin picking with friends as we celebrate our sweet boy this weekend. The struggle comes as I think about the moment coming as I wake in the morning. In fact, it's why I'm struggling to fall asleep. When I wake, my Time hop App is going to tell me what was happening each year for the last five years on this date in my life. I don't need it to tell me one year ago. It was one of the hardest moments in my life.
A simple email requesting me to call the director of our adoption agency became a conversation about our three children going home to their village. My heart broke. My logical mind took over and said all the right things. My well trained spiritual brain began to fall back on verses and sermons and statements from people of faith who I've witnessed go through struggle. My eyes hurt from all the tears. My heart ached for my husband and my bios and me. This day in our family history. This day. It hurts. I can hear the words. I feel them flowing painfully out of my mouth as I share the news. It still feels fresh... Though I know it's not. In my heart, I'm a mom of nine. I pray for those sweet ones. For their future. For their safety. For them to feel His love.
I pray tonight as I fall asleep for joy in the morning. One year ago today was James' 9th birthday. He and John were in the orphanage. They had no idea it was his birthday. They had no clue that their photos were being opened by the family that would bring them home. Last year on this very day, Azriel stated boldly that the boys in that photo were her brothers... She was right. James says he got a family for his birthday last year. He's right. I hear that though and remember that first he had to lose everything to be my son. As I put him to bed, I prayed with him and over him and for him and thanked God for his momma and his whole family and I stood there in the doorway of his room wanting to go over and hold him and cry over his loss and tell him how much I love his momma and his baba and his brothers for the impact they made on his life. I want to sit with him in the pain of his loss, but at that moment even after praying out loud and thanking God for his family in Uganda and thanking God for his mom, he smiled up at me from his bed just seconds after my amen and said, "Goodnight, Mommy... I love you!" Such joy in our story! God's fingerprints all over this page in our family history.
I know God meant for these boys to be ours. I trust Him. I know His ways are better. Does it lessen the pain of the loss to know the facts. No. Not in the least for me. It does make it pain with a purpose... And for those that know me that is how I describe the pain of natural birth with each of my four bios. It hurts. Pain with a purpose though. This day last year was one of many painful contractions during my labor for James and John. I can close my eyes and remember this pain with the same peace as I remember the pain from my first four.
In the morning when I rise, I will be thankful for this day that my sweet Lord and savior has made. I will rejoice. I will ask for an extra dose of His presence for our family as we celebrate and as we give thanks for the sweet story He has written with bitter ink.
The full soul loathes an honeycomb; but to the hungry soul every bitter thing is sweet. Proverbs 27:7
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