Putting the Pieces Together

I am so amazed at how well our little redhead is doing that most of the little blips and moments of pause that come from adopting an older child do not usually phase me. But I do feel like they are worth sharing.
I am a very open person, which probably goes without saying on a blog about one’s life….. I also am a huge advocate for adoption, which is one of the main reasons why I do this blog. However, I try to be ever conscious of the fact that this is not my story...it is his. Therefore, I must be careful not to share details that are his and his alone to do with as he pleases. For example, he may not want everyone at the salad bar to know he is adopted…

Last week, a lady at Jason's Deli asked me how old he was. I told her he was 4. She then said, “Oh, so it gets better….I have an 18 month old who is into everything!” My first reaction was to reply. “I have heard 3 is the worst…” But, as the mother of a 4 year old, shouldn’t I know what age 3 is like?! A simple, honest comment like that would let a perfect stranger know that my child was not my own…. So I just left it at, “Yes, 3 is worse, but 4 is much better…”

Another issue with having an older child that does bother me is the missing pieces. I have no baby pictures…except a few I found on his mother’s facebook page. Thank you, Mark Zuckerburg for this unintended bonus of social networking. It feels so unfair to me that our family will always have pictures of my nephew (who is close in age to my son) from the time he was born, but none of my son. And when he asks, “Where was I then?” as he looks at my scrapbooks, the worst part is that I KNOW where he was…and it was definitely not surrounded my doting aunts and uncles watching him try sweet potatoes for the first time.

My husband and I were asked to go to the DCFS (Department of Child and Family Services) office on Wednesday to review our son's files, which were two, 4" binders thick. Though we already knew bits and pieces of that information, we were able to piece together the pieces into a more coherent story. A very sad and heartbreakingly coherent story. I left feeling nausceous, somewhat tearful and full of rage at the people that were supposed to take care of him so long ago. But in spite of all that, I felt as I knew him a little better and am very thankful that we were able to read the records. And needless to say, he got a lot of extra hugs as I held him a little longer that afternoon.

On a more positive note, reading those records officially begins the adoption process for us! We are hopeful that will be OFFICIALLY ours before Christmas. Since there is definitely no handbook for that, we can all learn the process together. :)