Fast forward to Sunday night (Ugandan time). I actually had to use Mike's inhaler so that I could breath! The weight of knowing that we were about to see our daughter was almost too much for me to handle. Would she remember us? Would she be scared? Would she run up to us with outstretched arms just like she had so many times in my dreams? Aside from my wedding day and landing back in America with her, that was one of my most joy-filled moments. It didn't happen like it did in my dreams. It was better. Out of the crowd of people waiting to see their loved ones, came our sweet daughter. In a black and red dress and even more beautiful than I remembered, she greeted us with hugs and her timid demeanor. Finally, we were together. Eighteen months of heartache and wondering and hoping and dreaming. We were finally Team Hausinger.
This was our first family photo in Uganda. Four days after we got the email of our court date.
Allow me to let you in on a little something, a confession if you will. For those of you not yet in the adoption-world this may come as a bit of a shocker newsflash.
Adoption is hard. Downright ugly at times. So ugly that you put yourself in a mommy time-out and have a good cry in your closet think, "What the heck am I even doing?!" This is the rarely-spoken-about-side-of-adoption that frankly, people just don't share. Why, you may ask? That's a good question and when I figure it out I'll be rich and famous. All too often, people sugar-coat or just don't talk about all sides of adoption. What you see on Facebook or Instagram is the information that people have chosen to let you see. The cute pictures at the beach for the first time (guilty), the first trip to the ice cream shop (guilty), the hilarious dance videos where everyone is laughing and having a good time (guilty). Not that any of this is wrong, but for those of you on the fence about adopting and not yet ready to take the plunge, it makes our life look like fairy dust and sprinkles. Easy. Fun. Happy.
What you don't see, is that 15 minutes after the ice cream shop picture was taken, there is a scared little girl/boy huddled in the corner in her/his bedroom, afraid, but unwilling to communicate why. What you don't hear about, is that after you've just gotten done disciplining your child for (fill in the blank), they are truly terrified that you are sending them back to the country they came from because you don't love them anymore because they just got in trouble. What you don't hear about is the stories of abuse/neglect that your child suffered at the hands of the very same person who was supposed to be their caregiver. Fire drills at school? Total meltdown. Being told that they can't have soda for breakfast? Complete chaos. Needing to go to sleep with every single light on in the house because they are scared because of some fear that darkness brings about from their time spent in the orphanage? Heartbreaking.
Add these fears and insecurites on top of having normal, six-year-old behavior, and you've got yourself quite the doozy learning curve. Not only is our daughter behaving like every other child we've ever been around, and not only are we Insta-Parents, but this mess is just plain hard. So when you ask me questions like, "Oh my goodness, she is just SO precious! How is she?" and, "How are you doing, you know, with being a 'mom'?" and "Gosh, she is just SO well behaved. I'll bet you don't ever have any problems with her!" and I respond to you through tear filled eyes, a clenched jaw and a trembling chin that yes, everything is "good", that's about as best an answer as I can muster up. You see, people don't really want to hear the good, the bad and the ugly. If they did, and you were actually honest about it then that would mean that they are obligated to lend a hand, an ear, or even a shoulder to cry on.
But let me tell you something else. As hard as this is for us, the parents, can you even begin to imagine what's going through the head of our daughter? Adoption is hard. But so is being a six year old little girl, taken away from everything you've ever known and loved. Some things are unfair. But so is trying to process the fact that your first mother left your life, and now you have a new mother who doesn't even look like you. Our daughter's story is hers to tell, or not. But it's a story that has more pain and heartbreak in the first six years of life than many of us will ever experience in a lifetime. It's not fair, it's not right, it's ugly, and it's painful.
But through the mud and the yuck, there are also glimmers of hope. Rays of healing. Joy. LOVE. HAPPINESS. HEALING. SAFETY, SECURITY. And maybe a little bit of healthy craziness.
