It has been almost 2 months since our deadline past for adopting another baby. We set Ethan's birthday as our deadline over a year ago, giving ourselves a firm cutoff of when we would stop being "in waiting." When we figured our lives could be back to normal.
The truth is, I didn't pour as much of myself into waiting this time around. I didn't do any advertising or networking. I didn't look for situations that might work out. I didn't put much effort in at all. My life already was "normal", so there was no need to return to it.
It has taken me a year-and-a-half, but over that time I became perfectly OK and happy with being a Mom of 2 kids instead of 3. For all my complaining, I do realize that I have two amazing kids. Kids who are great friends to each other. Kids who are so different from one another in personality, temperament and interests. But yet kids who really, really enjoy one another. If you ask either one who their best friend is, they will choose each other. They are growing up together, sharing stages together. They are already close in the exact way I missed growing up with 3 much-older sisters.
Since May, I have been waiting for the dams to open up and the flood to come, the flood of my grief over the finality of our family unit. But they haven't come. Even when I feel tiny pangs of longing when I see a newborn, and I turn in on myself to really
feel what I am feeling, the tears are few. I feel a little guilty about that, like maybe we shouldn't have even put ourselves out there for another adoption. Like maybe I didn't really want it as much as I should have. But then I remember that 18 months ago, I felt very differently than I do today.
And I think I understand what has happened to me in the last 18 months to change me so much.
I have finally become content with what I have.