We’ve had a foster baby with us for a couple of months now. He’s super cute, has a full head of black, curly hair, and has eyes so big you can see him soaking in the world around him. He joined us when he was just a week old so I’ve had interrupted sleep and feel like I’m just coming out of a baby fog.
We’ve been living in this dichotomy of falling absolutely in love with this little guy, especially with his smiles and coos and the way he recognizes us, and our desire for him to be with his adoptive family as soon as possible.
Adoption always involves loss, and he’s already lost so much. Transitioning to another set of arms to hold him, voice to soothe him, environment to adjust to, will be traumatic for him. And yet, I like to think he’s gained another family to love him. I tell him often that he has so many people who love, or will love, him. His birthmother and her brave choice to bring him into this world and offer him a life she couldn’t give him. Our family, and extended family who got to know him and love him over the holidays. His adoptive family who will utterly adore and love him, who have been waiting for him, hoping for his arrival.
I know our family will all grieve when he leaves, but him leaving is the end goal. And in the midst of all this baby fog and falling head over heels, I have to keep that goal in sight.
grace for each moment, one moment at a time