A different type of 90 days

I’m working on my second book: the 5 year journey of adoption. A lot of it is my inner spiritual journey shaped by events and our decision to move across the world, in order to adopt.

We undergo the chiseling surgery of expanding our family through the second adoption, and our brains feel wrung and squished and bobbled, a training of survival of sorts. During the constant noise and needs and wants, that ought to be fulfilled with a smile, we muster all the kindness we can. But we still bark at each other or the kids at times. The growing pains. When a genuine rip occurs but we mend it, the bond gets stronger.

I am reading my old blog entries and smile at our first months of parenting. The first “90 days” we spent with Jackie, “the matching” as part of the adoption journey, we were so rested and genuinely happy. We were beyond excited and had apparent endless resources of energy. We took time to document Jackie’s brilliant honesty in words.

Today, the second time around, the 90 days of matching, we enjoy the ride. During these odd times of worldwide pandemic, we survive the ride. Some days are harder than others… A layering of limited space to explore. Most other days are decisively wonderful and as the house quiets down and we can think, we marvel at these blessings.

The girls 3 and 6 speak up clearly, and are so insightful about life. Their hearts are innocent and generous. Evelyn is a darling. And the two sisters complement each other and shine a lovely light on each others differences, while we delight in their similarities. What a gift it is to be able to zoom into Jackie’s past through Ivy, and relieve and enjoy the sweetness of age 3. In the same breath, zoom forward and realize how fast time flies while getting a glimpse into Evelyn’s future through Jackie.

I love having two kids. Both Conrad and I agree on that. Our parenting style is more detached. Reuniting the sisters gives them more courage to fly the nest and explore even as we speak. They seem to see their own reflection in the another and we are freer to take a step back and delight in them from afar.

At this age, our parenting is hands-on. And it’s rather exhausting. We repeat ourselves, we guide and correct, we worry and fret… we hold hands literally and figuratively. But I know we are preparing them and ourselves for the future.

I wish I had the energy, and mental freedom (aka silence) and mindset to document more of the daily events or clever things Evelyn does or says… but instead, those moments when my attention is not called on, I stare out the window to the greenery, and rest my eyes and my ears.

In all honesty, I delight in my youngest daughter. I enjoy the maturity of my eldest. And most especially, I delight in the sisterhood we witness and foster. Every day we cook and feed them, read to them, listen to the nonsense. Play with legos and take long walks.

I know it’s a season.

I look forward to doing things out of habit and seeing both girls more settled in their own shoes… but mostly I look forward the the pandemic being over so we could travel again, far and wide.

I stumbled upon a sobering reminder about parenting and adoption.