In shifting some furniture to prepare it for moving to our new house, I came across a dusty envelope of pictures of William's younger months at St. Lucy's Center. They were taken with the disposable camera that we had sent over in one of his care packages. It has been at least a year and a half since I've browsed through the set.
I'm crying because my heart breaks for the baby in those pictures. He looks nothing like the happy 3 year-old we know and love, but the child in those photos is undeniably William. The months he spent in an orphanage are an indelible part of his life story, of who he is - and I'm sad for that. Sometimes it's easy to forget that he ever had a past as an orphan because he's such a cheerful, funny little boy. But when I see these pictures, I'm reminded of all that he has lost in order to become a part of our family.
- holdup - dry the tears and put on a happy face; Andrew just came downstairs -
Yes, yes, I know, this is a story with a supposedly happy ending. We adopted William and brought him into a home full of love. I know that adoption is God's way of taking an ugly situation borne from a broken world and making some good of it. Still, I can't help but grieve every now and then.
I'm crying because my heart breaks for the baby in those pictures. He looks nothing like the happy 3 year-old we know and love, but the child in those photos is undeniably William. The months he spent in an orphanage are an indelible part of his life story, of who he is - and I'm sad for that. Sometimes it's easy to forget that he ever had a past as an orphan because he's such a cheerful, funny little boy. But when I see these pictures, I'm reminded of all that he has lost in order to become a part of our family.
- holdup - dry the tears and put on a happy face; Andrew just came downstairs -
Yes, yes, I know, this is a story with a supposedly happy ending. We adopted William and brought him into a home full of love. I know that adoption is God's way of taking an ugly situation borne from a broken world and making some good of it. Still, I can't help but grieve every now and then.
11 comments:
Judy - Our God is such an awesome God. Over and over again, there are so many accounts of Him taking the ugliest and worst of situations and turning it into one of the most beautiful stories ever told (Joseph and his brothers and Jesus' crucifixion immediately come to mind). Oh how beautiful the story of William Krasinski, the earthly parents who brought him home, and the Heavenly Father who created, formed, and called him His own even before the world began.
Judy,
I so understand this more than you know! hugs
You are not alone. Your words could have been my words on several occasions.
i feel your pain.You just want to go in to the photo and pick up the little baby that you love so much.
I hear ya!
Judy, I *am* the crying sort.
It probably makes it even more real, and has more weight, when you know more of your child's past. With Dorothy, I have no birth family information. This very vague "birth mother" concept is in my mind- but we know so little, I find I rarely dwell on this part of Dorothy's life. I can't. Doing so means that I make assumptions and I desperately don't want to create a story that may not have been. That's hard.
Much of my grief stems from imagining what our daughter will feel in a few years. Will she be upset we have no baby pictures? Will she ache with wonder over how heavy she was when she was born? Or if she really was born on the birthday we celebrate? Or when she first walked? Or rolled over? Ugh. THAT gets me teary! Not knowing those facts doesn't make her any less a part of our family, but I do know them with the other 3. Ugh. Ugh. Ugh.
Beautiful and messy all at once. Adoption starts that way, and continues to be that way. I wouldn't trade it, but there is no escaping it, either.
I have such an appreciation for how you document your feelings. And I, too, have to wipe the tears and pull it together when I'm caught in a tearful moment.
I somehow missed the part about you moving???
Grief. It's the part I wish didn't have to be. But without it, they wouldn't be our children. Happy three and four year-olds who have healed. And will always share the bond of having to experience grief at such a young and innnocent age.
Hugs Judy!
I go there often and I truly do understand...
Thanks for sharing this post. I appreciate you sharing your heart and being vulnerable. I can identify with you as I'm sure most adoptive mommies can.
Kelly
from www.wearegraftedin.com
hi!!!!! oh my, so much to catch up on...the boys are HUGE!!!! no longer little guys! your photography is rockin'!! so many wonderful pics...i especially adore the recent senior pics, the one of W in life jacket with big blue sky, the one of W in the fairy wings...and of him in the chair with the big book...you are amazing! i hear you on the grief for the little ones. M is having some major separation anxiety...and i know even bio kids have this...but as an adoptive mama you can;t help but think of those nights when your baby was crying for comfort and no one came. but, as rachel commented, our grief does have to be given over to God and trust that what He has allowed, He can redeem...for His glory and His kingdom...and our joy! oh, i also loved the pics of A at the beach...great work!
Wow, I have the familiar aching feeling as I read your post, like someone has reached in and squeezed my heart and lungs so tightly. Milana asks to see her baby box all the time and as excited as she is for it, I am the one with multiple feelings and moods. I'm like a rainbow of muddy moods. She loves to carry around photos from her 2 years in her foster home and I am the one having to sort through a huge assortment of emotions. This is part of the reason I did not post a huge celebration of my daughter's meeting date... I think immediately of my daughter's foster mom crying in my arms for four hours in the orphanage, knowing this day marks a year of heartache for her. Our joy comes at the great expense of grief. We did celebrate, we went out for ice cream as Milana requested. Almost forgot to photograph the day because I become lost in emotions. Milana is such a different child. She always seemed so reserved in those photos from her foster family. I stare at them wondering her thoughts, her actions, her life. I have the smallest snippet of a video of her chasing around in circles... true Milana style. I think of the sadness and think there should be all this vulnerability and then Milana comes bolting into the room like a magnificent amazing storm... I see why God strengthened this little one for us. She's weathered a hurricane, but takes the knowledge from that storm into a new learning frontier. I'm thankful you could cry, it hurts, but there's always that beautiful rainbow after the storm. You were sent to William and he was sent to you to weather this together. You are an exceptional mother.
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