Little Pangs

We are finally on our way to bring our son home from Ukraine. This will be the LAST trip. There have been 7 in three years between the 3 adoptions. I love the adventure of travel. I love bringing our children home. I love the privilege of being their mama and watching them grow and change. But at this point, I am ready to be done with being gone.

Going to foreign countries to meet our sons is exhilarating. But it requires that I leave my other precious ones behind during my travel. I admit, the first week is always a relief. Every Mama needs a break here and there. And our adoptions have been a bit like a vacation in the beginning (usually the first 4 or five days before we meet our son). But realize we are not vacationing. And bouncing back and forth between countries is no picnic. My kids are tired of me being gone. And I am just plain tired.

There are so many parts of this process that are hard. It takes sacrifice. It is not easy. And there are many moments along the way that my heart just pangs a little bit. Maybe it is fatigue. Maybe it is the selfish part inside. Maybe it is just my way of coping. But whatever it is I have come to know it all too well.

Yesterday as I was making the last preparations before we drove away, I was setting out the boys' 'daily prizes' and felt another little pang. I was setting their gifts on the mantle (for the 7th time in 3 years, the novelty is wearing off but somehow they still get so excited for this) and I noticed something.

I had purchased most of the gifts for our trips to Ukraine a couple months ago and wrapped them ahead of time. I had to pick up a few more for this trip since we are staying longer than expected. I labeled each gift since the boys were not all staying together for all 3 trips. I put initials and a number for each gift in case they got mixed up or I forgot which ones belonged to which boys. As I put these last gifts on the mantle I felt the pang. I saw the number 28 on the last gift. Twenty eight days I will have been away from my boys this summer. Twenty eight days I have missed. Twenty eight days they have been with someone else. Twenty eight days we have missed each other.

For a minute I felt sad for the loss; for what I was missing. But it only hurt until I realized what it meant. Our son, their brother, is coming home. He has spent years waiting. Years away from us. Years without us. Years with others who he loves but who were never his family. Years without a mother to miss. One of Justin's most common messages to me is , "I miss for you every day." The other kids' missing me for 28 days means that their brother does not have to miss me ever again.

I hurts a little to leave my kids so often to bring their brothers home. But there is so much more joy to be felt when their brothers finally arrive. It is so worth it.