Wednesday, January 18, 2012

Wrinkles From A Year

I've been teasing Michael all along about the white hairs he got from our adoption process.
He did.
He has white strands of hair speckled throughout his beard that showed up somewhere between our long wait to pass court and our embassy investigation.
Scratch that.  They started to appear pretty much right after we left Million the first time.

Up until now I've laughed at his hair loss and whitening beard.
Until a few weeks ago.
Natural lighting can be cruel.
I looked in my reflection one day and noticed a lot more wrinkles coming in on my upper cheeks.  I'd already had crow's feet, but never wrinkles on the upper cheeks before.
Fortunately, they are smile wrinkles instead of the opposite.
But I did buy some wrinkle cream when I ran out of my normal facial moisturizer.

Despite the toll this year has taken on our physical bodies, we've been so incredibly blessed and taught and grown this year.  I thought I'd take the time today to share about our first meeting with Million, a year ago.

 Waiting to meet Million.

The moment I first held my son

Michael holding Million for the first time.

First family photo,

 Absolutely in love with my sleeping baby.

Here are a few words I posted on our adoption blog last year about our first meeting.

The day we met Million, I'd slept five hours in four days. There was part brilliance in "let's stay up all night before we travel so we adjust to the time zones....and then not sleep a single wink on the plane!" and part sheer panic in "did I pack everything?" involved. 

 It was really not a magical adoption "we're a family" moment. 
The closest we've had to that was our referral. 
For me, when we got our referral, that was it---Ring all the bells, we were a family. 
So this meeting him seemed like an "of course" kind of moment. 

Of course he was our son. 
Of course he was terrified and cried most of the day until he slept in my arms. 
 Of course he was still fairly sick. 
Of course we were exhausted. 
Of course we loved him more than any human could imagine. 

 The way our agency does things usually, there is a shut door, and the adoptive parents wait up on a set of stairs while people take pictures. Then the door opens, the nanny slowly walks to you, as people take pictures of your face the first time you see your child. You take the child in your arms, and magic happens. 

 The door wasn't shut for we could see Million in his nanny's arms for quite some time before they brought him out to us. 

 Not. As. Magical. 

 But perfect for us. Anticlimactic. It seemed to perfectly coincide with how our adoption process has gone. We've seen this coming for so long now. And now that it's actually here, it feels like it's always been here. So natural. 

 Of course.

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