Last week, Mark and I celebrated our fourth Adoption Day together. To be honest, I kind of forgot about it--forgot it was coming, forgot to plan a big celebration or a trip to Disneyland, forgot to make a big deal about it in some way or another. I felt guilty, a bad mom for forgetting one of the most important days in our family history.
But then I realized maybe it's not such a bad thing I forgot. Because, honestly, while it was still the best day of my life, it wasn't the happy ending, the defining moment of our adoption story--it was really just the beginning of it.
By the time our adoption was finalized, Mark had already lived with me for two years. In those two years, I watched him hit some amazing milestones. I watched him learn to read and graduate from kindergarten. I watched him ride a bike for the first time, pedaling like a madman, and I remember that the minute he was far enough away, I burst into tears because I was so proud of him. I cheered him on in basketball and soccer games, and watched him struggle to understand all the rules, but love playing the games anyway.
I snuggled with him every night before bed, reading him stories, and then slowly switching roles, listening to him read to me instead, simple books at first, and then chapter books. I watched him learn to count, then add, and subtract. I watched him test his own blood sugar, and give himself his first shot. I watched him make friends, and embrace our family, becoming inseparable from his cousins, aunts, uncles and grandparents. I watched him love and nurture his cat, and morph into the Cat Whisperer.
I watched him a lot in those two years prior to our formal adoption, and in watching, I learned a whole lot about that kid. And I learned even more about myself.
I learned that I was able to love somebody even more than I'd ever imagined, and I'd imagined a lot. I learned that love was contagious--it spread like a wildfire, and the more we gave out, the more it was returned to us, tenfold. I saw this outpouring of love from my friends and family, toward me, and toward this little boy, whom they loved unconditionally from day one. Not only did I feel love, I actually saw love, what it looks like. It's a cousin extending a hand to come play, a grandparent driving 120 miles for a 20-minute donut breakfast at school, friends taking time from work to get certified to give Mark insulin shots.
I saw my friends and family step up, volunteering to be emergency contacts at school, to take Mark shopping for my first Mother's Day gift, to discipline Mark with strong words and warm hugs afterwards when he did wrong. And they stepped up for me, too, standing beside me, behind me, propping me up when I felt sapped, depleted of energy or patience, and cheering me on through the small victories. In those two years, I felt more love and support than in my prior 34 years put together, and that's saying a lot.
So that day in court four years ago...it wasn't the end of our story, our becoming the family. It was a formalization, for sure, but I didn't feel any different leaving court that day than I did when I got there--I loved Mark as my son when we got there, and I loved him just as much as my son when we left. Sure, Mark had a new legal last name, but this family who shared that name--they'd been his family for two years already, a third of his lifetime. He was already one of us, our family, as we were his.
And so maybe it wasn't a bad thing that I almost forgot Adoption Day this year. I didn't forget because it was unimportant, but because it was simply one more day in our life. It was an important day, for sure, but so were the 730 days previous, and the 1460 after. It was all those days put together, the little days and the big days, the people who shared in all those days with us, that really shaped us as a family. Those are the days that made us a family, that forged us together, that bonded us forever. Not just that one day in court, with one judge, one gavel and one proclamation. (Although, it still was a pretty great day!)
And don't feel bad for Mark, because I didn't say I completely forgot our day, just that I almost did. In the end, I did remember it, and we still celebrated in our best family tradition ever--the annual Adoption Day ice cream sundae dinner! It wasn't a fancy dinner at a fancy restaurant, and it wasn't big or elaborate, or filled with extended family and friends like the lunch we had that day after court. It was quiet, sweet, just the two of us, my son and I, a couple scoops of ice cream, some hot fudge, and whipped cream. It was perfect.
Just like that day four years ago.
But then I realized maybe it's not such a bad thing I forgot. Because, honestly, while it was still the best day of my life, it wasn't the happy ending, the defining moment of our adoption story--it was really just the beginning of it.
By the time our adoption was finalized, Mark had already lived with me for two years. In those two years, I watched him hit some amazing milestones. I watched him learn to read and graduate from kindergarten. I watched him ride a bike for the first time, pedaling like a madman, and I remember that the minute he was far enough away, I burst into tears because I was so proud of him. I cheered him on in basketball and soccer games, and watched him struggle to understand all the rules, but love playing the games anyway.
I snuggled with him every night before bed, reading him stories, and then slowly switching roles, listening to him read to me instead, simple books at first, and then chapter books. I watched him learn to count, then add, and subtract. I watched him test his own blood sugar, and give himself his first shot. I watched him make friends, and embrace our family, becoming inseparable from his cousins, aunts, uncles and grandparents. I watched him love and nurture his cat, and morph into the Cat Whisperer.
I watched him a lot in those two years prior to our formal adoption, and in watching, I learned a whole lot about that kid. And I learned even more about myself.
I learned that I was able to love somebody even more than I'd ever imagined, and I'd imagined a lot. I learned that love was contagious--it spread like a wildfire, and the more we gave out, the more it was returned to us, tenfold. I saw this outpouring of love from my friends and family, toward me, and toward this little boy, whom they loved unconditionally from day one. Not only did I feel love, I actually saw love, what it looks like. It's a cousin extending a hand to come play, a grandparent driving 120 miles for a 20-minute donut breakfast at school, friends taking time from work to get certified to give Mark insulin shots.
I saw my friends and family step up, volunteering to be emergency contacts at school, to take Mark shopping for my first Mother's Day gift, to discipline Mark with strong words and warm hugs afterwards when he did wrong. And they stepped up for me, too, standing beside me, behind me, propping me up when I felt sapped, depleted of energy or patience, and cheering me on through the small victories. In those two years, I felt more love and support than in my prior 34 years put together, and that's saying a lot.
So that day in court four years ago...it wasn't the end of our story, our becoming the family. It was a formalization, for sure, but I didn't feel any different leaving court that day than I did when I got there--I loved Mark as my son when we got there, and I loved him just as much as my son when we left. Sure, Mark had a new legal last name, but this family who shared that name--they'd been his family for two years already, a third of his lifetime. He was already one of us, our family, as we were his.
And so maybe it wasn't a bad thing that I almost forgot Adoption Day this year. I didn't forget because it was unimportant, but because it was simply one more day in our life. It was an important day, for sure, but so were the 730 days previous, and the 1460 after. It was all those days put together, the little days and the big days, the people who shared in all those days with us, that really shaped us as a family. Those are the days that made us a family, that forged us together, that bonded us forever. Not just that one day in court, with one judge, one gavel and one proclamation. (Although, it still was a pretty great day!)
And don't feel bad for Mark, because I didn't say I completely forgot our day, just that I almost did. In the end, I did remember it, and we still celebrated in our best family tradition ever--the annual Adoption Day ice cream sundae dinner! It wasn't a fancy dinner at a fancy restaurant, and it wasn't big or elaborate, or filled with extended family and friends like the lunch we had that day after court. It was quiet, sweet, just the two of us, my son and I, a couple scoops of ice cream, some hot fudge, and whipped cream. It was perfect.
Just like that day four years ago.
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