What happens after you decide to adopt two babies?
Total joy, covered with an invisible, spiritual battle.
Swords crash over your head.
You don't see them. You feel them.
You love your babies so completely and so instantaeously that it shocks you. You never believed the stories about this instant love.
You assumed it takes time.
You LOVE them.
You love them so much that at the sight of their malnourished little arms, you forget that God has brought them this far and has this under control, and you stay up all night long trying to ship extra formula to Ethiopia. Overnight express. On a Friday night. You beg, you plead, and you discover that this is impossible. And unnecessary. And rediculous.
You love them so much that you go post-natal. And when the first relative calls to voice general concern about adopting two infants when you already have two toddlers, you unleash a Mama Bear response. You cry and bang your fists at how badly you can mess things up, even when you try not to. The Sermon on the Mount breaks your heart anew, and you ask Him to teach you again, for the thousandth time.
Your car gets broken into. They take your stuff.
(You remember that it's just stuff.)
You get dressed for church.
Your other car breaks down. A blown transmission and more money. You look up to the sky, still fresh with Sunday morning hope, and you know that the battle is just beginning. You are only at the 46 hour mark. You realize that there aren't enough seats in that car anymore, anyways.
You regroup. You ask God to protect your joy, and you remind Satan of where he lives and how to get there. You read Philippians, the Timothys, Titus, and you pray.
You show the pictures to friends at church; crying, laughing, and already bragging about imaginary special talents and strengths that you think your new children might have...they are strong, determined, brave, joyful....
You carry your referral pictures up and down the stairs, from room to room, because you can't bear to be away from their sweet little faces for one second.
You clutch 8 pieces of paper containing all the information you have about your new babies, and you march into an International Adoption Clinic in Raleigh. You decide ahead of time that if this doctor does not have good news, you will find another one who does.
You sing songs in the waiting room with the kids, all the while praying harder than you have ever prayed in your life, because these babies are already yours regardless of any test results. You already love them. You are Mommy.
You cry in the car after the doctor tells you that your babies are going to be okay and gives you her home email address. You praise God that you carry two new growth charts.
You sing in the car, in the shower, in the kitchen. You dance everywhere. You wake up next to the happiest man on the planet, because he thinks it's "Christmas" everyday. You realize (all over again) that you married a very brave man, and you can't believe you get to spend the rest of your life with him on this crazy adventure.
You thank God, over and over again, for His perfect timing.
You dossier lands in Ethiopia, sent over just days before your referral.
You realize that you wrote this post the day before you got your referral pictures and met your children, and that God was preparing your heart for what you would see.
your son was born.
they are His.