Five Months...

Five months ago today I walked out of a big brick building, and a big steel grey gate holding a little blonde boy’s hand.  He had NO idea what was happening.  I knew that his life was about to change in a big way!! 

Today, at the same big brick building, and the same big steel gate closed with another little boy, and his Daddy on the outside of it.  Today Vlad Burick is free.  Free to be a little boy.  Free to run, and play, and love, and be loved by his Momma, Daddy, and younger brother(soon to be two younger brothers!), and grandparents, and aunts, uncles, cousins... 

I wish I could just make people understand how it feels to be the one walking out those gates, holding that child’s hand.  I wish I could convince people who don’t understand the deep connection that I have felt ever since that first moment that I saw my little boy’s face. 

I’ve spent the last few days thinking about the other parents who are in the midst of their journeys to bring home their child or children.  So many of them are finding that they have no support in their extended families, and friends. 

That made me think of my own family.  I haven’t really posted much about my family, or the dysfunction that is now my family because I didn’t want to make things “worse”.  Not sure how much worse things could be since they already aren’t speaking to me, and completely ignore me(or shoot me a dirty look and then ignore me) in public. 

When we started our journey I didn’t really feel the need to ask my extended family for permission to bring Timothy home.  I talked to my Mom about it, shared my excitement and my fears.  She was so supportive, and shared our excitement.  When we told my siblings, one was very supportive, the other not so much.  I really don’t have any idea why the one didn’t support us.  When I think back through the process though, there was never really any interest(other than disgust that we were bringing him from another country when there are lots of children here in “our own country” that need families).  Never an offer of help, they didn’t attend any of our events or fundraisers, even for moral support (I can understand not having the money to donate, but being there would have been nice, just knowing that they were there for us…but I digress).  My other sibling was there when they could be, they came to our rummage sale, and came to another big event we had.  They asked about our progress, and how close we were getting, etc. 

The day before we left for our trip to Ukraine, October 10^th, we all gathered at the cemetery to bury our Dad’s ashes.  We had a short committal ceremony, and everyone wished us well as we would be leaving the next day to fly to Ukraine to bring Timothy home.  That was the last time my siblings really spoke to me.

Anyone who has been through the process of international adoption knows that the timeline is never really set in stone.  You go where they tell you, and your appointments are set, and you just show up.  The facilitators work hard to keep things moving smoothly, from the paperwork to court.  As exciting as it is, it is also very mundane, it is stressful, and sometimes lonely.  Being so far away from home, other kids, family… it takes it’s toll on a person. 

I’ve mentioned that things happened at home while we were gone, and really the details aren’t all that important to this post.  What is important is that it was something that happened between me (and John) and my Mom.  Something that I did NOT plan, something that happened due to a lack of communication on our part.  Something that I didn’t even realize was happening until it was too late and the damage had been done, on many levels. 

Knowing how upset my Mom was here, and knowing that there was nothing I could do to fix things was one of the worst things I’ve ever had to experience.  Knowing that she was angry/hurt/upset at me was a horrible feeling.  I have always been very close to my Mom even when we didn’t live in the same state.

When we finally got home, none of my family was at the airport to meet us.  None of them called to find out that we’d made it home safely.  After all of the travelling, we went to a local store before we went home so that we could get some fruit and yogurt for Timothy (he was still pretty picky about what he ate), and actually saw one of my siblings… dirty look, ignored, and most likely the person that they were talking to got an earful about how horribly I treated my Mom and everyone else by leaving to go get Timothy.   When I called my Mom to tell her that we were home, she was distant, and said that “feelings will take time to heal”.   She explained later what that meant.  I was heartbroken.  I was exhausted. 

That was in November.  My Mom and I have since had many talks about things.  About the things I should have done differently, the things that might have helped the whole mess be avoided.  We have forgiven, and I have accepted the responsibility that I had in the things that happened. 

The process changes a person.  You see things, and hear things, and feel things that no one can understand unless they have experienced them.   It’s hard to not talk about it, but I try not to because I don’t want to bring back any of the hurt feelings that were here when I got home.

After talking things out with my Mom though, we both agree that the issue was between us, her and I (and John).  Granted, my siblings feelings about what happened are valid, but at the same time, not really.  They have done things in the past few years that have hurt the family.  Things that should have crushed the relationships.  Things that have never really been talked about, or questioned.  Things that were “forgiven” just because that is what family does.  My brother was heartbroken, like I’ve never seen him, but he chose to forgive the person that hurt him, so no questions asked, the situation was forgotten. 

They feel that they are justified in holding the grudge that they hold because I shouldn’t have hurt and taken advantage of my Mom.  Mom has forgiven me.  It shouldn’t be an issue with them anymore if that is what Mom has chosen to do.  I don’t feel like I owe anyone else any apologies (I did apologise to my SIL early on because I got snippy with her (via email) about something) beyond what I have offered.  I emailed when we got home, and no one replied.  Their silence said it all, and still does.  I’m sure it doesn’t matter that *I* am hurt, and angry, and upset by the way they handled things too. 

The holidays came and went.  Timothy doesn’t know who was missing because he has never met them.  The other kids noticed.  I noticed.  I still notice.  Tomorrow is Mom’s birthday.  She had plans with everyone else today, she’ll come over for supper with us tomorrow.  Easter is next week… same thing… celebrate with “everyone else” and then come here to spend a little time with us.  It should not be “us” and “them”. 

I pray for my family, for their hearts. I pray for my friends families.  That they will understand and accept the kids that God has blessed them with.  I pray that they will travel and not have to worry about who will meet them at the airport when they get home.  I pray that God will speak to the hearts of the ones who don’t understand, or choose not to accept the gift that we’ve been given. 

I thank God for the blessings that He has given me. I thank Him for the people that He has put in our lives who love us and our kids.  And, this Palm Sunday (which will be here in 30 minutes), I thank God again for His Son, and for His love, and for His forgiveness.  Forgiveness that is beyond what we deserve, but not beyond what He provides.