Room for the easy and the hard

Guilt about *it being easy 

*It can be life, marriage, adoption. Parenting is evidently not easy. We can see the beauty in it, embrace the challenges, but parenting is about sacrifice. No matter who you are, if you are in it for the long run, motivated by love, sacrifice comes natural. 

It is possible that this is our limit and god had mercy on us to not give us more than we can carry. 

On the other hand it felt crushing, suffocating, because we weren’t present, we were living in the past, or we were living in the future. 

Also, the first year of adoption takes a lot out of anybody. There are a lot of changes, and new normal to adapt to. I can say it was hard, even though we were willing, it still was hard. 

When we talk about adoption, inevitably we realize we found our groove. But we purposefully invested. We learned. We made amends. We loved wholeheartedly and we cried out to God when we could carry the weight no more. 

Kids need structure to feel safe and nurture to grow. I couldn’t give these two in sporadic relationships. I’m built for the long haul. Where my commitment is forever, and my limits are known and love languages are expressed and reciprocated. 

I want to help others, but I can’t do it from a high horse. I need to get down. Be quiet. Listen. 

But my story and experience is valid too. It’s important to feel accepted as well, when I say “my experience is different” so my kids can have the voice and courage to say it as well and feel validated. 

Two adoptions, two sisters who did not meet before. Same bio mom but different fathers. They process their adoption baggage differently. One feels the rejection more acutely. But on the other hand, both of them have been as safe as they could on the streets, loved by their mom. She tried and she succeeded a lot. She didn’t let them be alone in a crib during the first many months. And for that I am grateful. She made my job easy, because they haven’t experienced that trauma of deprivation of human touch in those vulnerable months. 

I look forward to hearing my daughters’ voices in interviews or maybe even a book. For now I have front row seat to their development, their awe and wonder about the world. Their joy and delight. Their healing. That in itself is a privilege.

I may have bent my ear to hasty speech about the invalidity of my story because it seems we have it easy. Of all the social hardship, I believe envy (or judgement that I’m too lucky) is the most painful for me.