This weekend marks a significant milestone for our family. It is Arthur's family day- his 5th family day, to be specific, meaning that it has been 5 years since Steve and I became parents.
As I think most parents would say, it seems both like a moment and a lifetime, simultaneously. We've learned so much, but- especially- we've learned how little we really know. Becoming a parent has caused me to become less selfish, while also showing me how incredibly selfish I still am. It has caused me to care about so much more, but also care about so much less.
I am learning that there are things that people almost always say, specifically when it comes to adoption. Some of them are awkward, most are well-meaning, most are also completely ridiculous.
"I know a family that has a 'gotcha day'", one of the kids' teachers commented. That's what people say when we mention family day. Always, without a doubt, "gotcha day". I've never really loved the term, but it took me until yesterday to figure out why: "gotcha day" sounds cute. Like maybe you held out your arms and this precious, smiling child jumped into them and you yelled "gotcha!"
There was nothing cute about the days we got our kids. I was emotional and sweaty, we were jet lagged and nervous, there were long meetings and translators. On the day we got Arthur, I developed a headache so severe (possibly from spending 6 hours in a taxi) that Steve had to take the first night shift all by himself and ended up hiding bits of cereal in Arthur's crib to keep him content (we all still love to tell this story). On the day we got Helen, Arthur threw up in my hands. The absolute best I can say about either of these days is that it was, in fact, the day our family grew. So we call it "family day". And we celebrate like it's our job- not the original, difficult day, but the victorious fact that we've made it through an entire year since then. We celebrate because we're a family now, and we weren't before.
When it comes to parenting, it is easy, sometimes, to think about the things I have missed. First steps, first teeth, first words. I have missed so much.
I had a coworker once who had gotten married in her early thirties, to a man who had been previously married and already had children. She told me one day about how at first she assumed they would not have children together, that it didn't seem logical at the time. Her husband disagreed and told her that he felt like if they didn't have a child they would be missing a blessing.
As she told me all this, I knew the rest of the story that covered the twenty years between then and now. I knew that they had a daughter, so precious to them, and that she had fallen off a horse in college and suffered a brain injury. I knew about the coma, the medical bills, the long, slow recovery. I knew about the seizures and the way they still worried about her all the time and the fact that none of them would ever be the same.
And she teared right up as she said to me, "And you know, he was right, of course. We would have missed this blessing."
And that's where I land when I start to add up all the milestones I've missed. The list may be long, but if I hadn't missed those things, if life had gone some other way, I would have missed so much more. I would have missed watching Arthur commit the word "cookie" to memory, one of his first English words, just so he could request another and another. I would have missed hearing Helen sing Chinese nursery rhymes and her delight when we found other children singing them on YouTube. I would have missed these 30 pound children falling asleep on my chest and afternoons spent with nothing more to do than hold them.
I would have missed this blessing.
We're making pancakes for breakfast on Sunday and we have a new riding toy to give the kids. We're planning a special lunch and a trip to the park and there will definitely be ice cream. We do it up big on family day. If there is one thing worth celebrating, it's this family.
