Hard things

Sometimes Jakob will cling to me and hold on to me so tight, tuck his tiny little head into my neck and pat his itty bitty hands on my back, even wrap his skinny little legs around my waist and squeeze so hard as he says, "mommy..." with a little giggle.   In a, "you're my mommy.  I've waited for you and I'm happy." kind of way.

The emotions can flood over me if I let them.  If I think about what he is saying and how I know he is saying it (yes, intuition), it takes my mind places that are hard to go.   Sometimes I don't let myself go there.  I'm sure it would be beneficial for our bonding (on my part) but sometimes I just can't.

It is too much.  

I think things like this:  I'm finally here because I wasn't before.  I know it isn't my fault.  I know, at the heartbeat of all the sadness and trauma an orphan can experience, it is because of this screwed up world we live in.  So dark without the Light.  When he was in a womb--it wasn't my own.  When he was born--I didn't hear his first cry or stare into his big beautiful eyes and wrap his fingers around mine.  How could I have known he was waiting to come into the world?  But the fact is, I really just wasn't there at all.  There are 2ish years of his life that I will never know anything about.  There are 2ish years where I wonder if he ever had a momma or the love of a mom.  Sometimes when I change his diaper I see glimpses of him as an infant.  Laying on his back and kicking his legs up into the air.  I think it is odd that a 2 year old would still do this but I also feel in my heart it is mercy.  Just a glimpse of what we missed together and it fills my heart with joy.

Or if I look closely enough I see Mawete: the pictures we were given when he was in foster care, the quiet eyes and full cheeks.  These are always reminders of the only information we have of his life before February 8th.  Only a few pictures from a few months.  The momentary expressions also remind me of HOW FAR this child has come.  I'm just floored when I hear him squealing with Julia, running around the house or riding his bike outside.  Who would he have been if we hadn't come?

What about all the others?  Don't tell me, I can't save them all...

I usually keep things like this inside because if I voice them I'm told that he has us now and he is so happy and I can't sit on these things.  It is a kind thought and reassurance but honestly, he has become MY heart just as Julia is my heart.  How can I not grieve for the things I have lost in my motherhood experience with Jakob?  Or how can I not grieve what he has lost?  And who knows what that is?  Or the extent to how far and deep the loss goes into his little soul?  It is a grief unlike grief I've experienced before.  It is way out there, separate from all the rest.

So in the moments when I do let myself go there I have to consciously tell myself that God knows.  The Rescuer and the Healer knows every detail and He was there every moment, even in the darkest and loneliest when we couldn't be.  That will have to be enough and truthfully, I can move on with that. 

But it takes some choking back of tears, a million kisses on his head till he squirms out of my arms and that "mommy..." becomes a "MOMMY!!!!"  Just another reason for me to fall at the feet of Jesus.