Your Warrior Mommy

Dear Mia,

Bonding is a powerful thing. Seeing the way you have given yourself to two perfect strangers is something to behold. From being told the day before we got you that you now had a mama and a papa, to where we are today is, in my opinion, a miracle. But there are two sides to the whole  bonding thing. We saw the second side last night. 

It had been a stressful day for us. Our alarm was set for 6:30am, but you were up earlier than that. We had to get our breakfast and get to the bus for our trip to the U.S. Consulate by 8:50am, which ordinarily would not have been much of a problem, but adding in a 3-year-old can complicate any of the best laid plans.  We made it, and completed our adoption process with a number of other families in one of the noisiest rooms we have been in together, the grocery store not withstanding. We then had time to rush back to the hotel to change diapers and clothes before going to the Shaiman Island for lunch and sight-seeing. After torrential rains due to the remnants of a typhoon covering mainland China, trying to sleep on my soaking wet shoulder, and our bus being involved in an auto accident, all three of our nerves were frayed. By the time we got back to the hotel, I was done; mommy was also done; but mostly, YOU were done. 

You opened a fresh can of fury on us when we were trying to get you to sleep. Mommy was the first to try and withstand Hurricane Mia. After succumbing to your category 4 wrath, mommy needed a break, so I shuttered my windows and headed toward the eye-wall so mommy could do something as simple as going to the washroom. Bad move. You quickly strengthened to a category 5 and nothing could withstand the wind from your lungs, the rain from your eyes, and the storm surge from your fists and feet. I probably looked like a weather caster trying to maintain my balance and keep my cool under the unforgiving assault. Then mommy emerged from the bathroom. 

When you saw your mommy, you practically leapt into her arms, clutched her as hard as you could, and released the last bit of energy in your storm. The winds blew. The rains flooded. The surge kept coming wave after wave, but your mommy stood strong and sheltered you from the ferocious force of your own fury. And as she held on for dear life throughout the relentless onslaught, she sang "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star." Like a sailor enduring the worst the seven seas could throw, your mommy looked to the sky for the eye of the storm, knowing that as the twinkling of the stars shone through, the storm could not last forever. Your mommy was a warrior for you last night.

All told, it took us about two hours of being battered, but we survived Hurricane Mia. We are all stronger as a result. When mommy and I had a chance to survey the damage, we thought back to the various fronts and forces that created your storm. We did not have a quiet morning, setting the pace for the rest of the day. Mommy and I were stressed, and your storm picked up energy from our angst. You had your nap on my shoulder in the middle of a rain shower, and neither of us could have been comfortable. The entire tour group was anxious during the fender bender. And the thought of shutting your eyes for sleep was about as terrifying a thought as you likely could muster. You are learning to take your rhythmic cues from us. We're bonding, after all. But when mommy left to go to the bathroom, if even for just a moment and a couple feet, the separation of that bond was felt as though you were separated by 12-hours and 8,000 miles.

With all the hugs, giggles, smiles, and "mamas and daddys" we have heard these past 10 days, the tantrum you threw at the very thought of not being able to see us was proof positive you are beginning to trust, need, and love us. It is the evidence of the hard work we have ahead of us as we help you grow to a point of self-actualization. It is also indicative, like the gathering clouds on the horizon, that God's plan is manifesting in our lives...and we still get to add Ethan to the mix!

Those clouds building in the distance are harbingers of more storms we must weather, but I want you to know you have a warrior mommy who is ready to fight the good fight and see us all through the storm. With singing. 

One of my favorite Bible passages is Zephaniah 3.17: "The Lord your God is with you, the Mighty Warrior who saves. He will take great delight in you; in His love he will no longer rebuke you, but will rejoice over you with singing." 

I love the imagery in that verse. A warrior God, fierce and mighty, standing in the heat of battle, while singing to soothe the storm within. That was your mommy last night. Holding and rocking you in the midst of the relentless fury you unleashed, and singing all the while. As the winds blew while the rain fell, enduring wave after wave of your surges of anger mixed with fear, your warrior mommy kept looking to the light from the sky and singing of the twinkling that we pray will envelop and engulf you so you know you are never alone. 

Regardless of what happened to you when the lights went out in the past, you can learn to rest easy that your warrior mama is able to withstand the storm in ways I'll never be capable, and maintain a song all the while. 

Twinkle, twinkle, little star...do you know how loved you are?

Love,

Dad