In the middle of the night, between the screeching and the pinching and the hitting…
…the sweetest moments happen.
Since coming home, Mazie and I have been awake 4-6 hours every night with only 1 exception.
In the middle of the night while we sit on the couch, without knowing it, my head falls backwards, and I start to doze off. Mazie stokes my cheek to get my attention. To have me look at her again.
She wants my attention.
She wants my eyes on hers.
She wants me to see her.
Her sweet smiles and little rumpled-up nose grin appear in the wee hours of the morning.
She loves to have her feet and toes massaged and I can easily accommodate her at this late hour. She places her feet in my hands until I rub them. And when I stop she wriggles her foot back into my hand and fusses until I start rubbing again.
Somewhere between 2-3am last night, (or maybe that makes it this morning) she let me cradle her as she finally dozed off. She tried so hard to keep her eyes open. And each time she opened her eyes she saw me looking at her, and she couldn’t help but smile. At me. Again and again she’d smile as she saw me gazing at her during that in-between time between sleep an awake.
These are the sweetest moments.
I had forgotten how hard and incredible the middle of the night can be with a new baby.
And yet, my second time around through an international adoption journey, and I find myself wondering if reentry was this hard last time. I know in reality it was even harder last time. But I’m reminded how hard this work is.
Physically my body is shot, and in the first few days when I was so sick, much of the time I literally couldn’t do anything more than just observe. The nausea, the jet lag, the incredible fatigue is overwhelming sometimes.
Additionally, mentally this is so difficult.
The what-ifs creep in.
My family and my home that ran so smoothly before we left, is now in constant shambles. I’m not able to find the ability to tuck in Tess and Jude each night, or snuggle with Boo like he craves. I find myself doubting my ability to successfully run this home. The house is a total wreck. The meals I filled my freezer with are still sitting in the freezer untouched. My temper is short. The laundry is piling up and the dishes need to be washed.
This is hard work.
I rest in the fact, that this is all part of the transition.
Our family’s transition.
Sweet Mazie Jade’s transition.
This isn’t reality yet, and yet it is my reality now.
These are all part of the process of a child being uprooted completely from all she loves and knows in an instant and being transferred to something completely foreign and new.
This is all part of the process of dropping a child with 2 years of history into a family unit.
I rest more easily knowing that this processing she is going, that we are all going through, is compounded by lack of sleep, a complete change in diet and routine, jet lag…
I’m trying to get outside a bit each day, trying to let the sunlight hopefully work it’s magic and restore our bodies’ clocks.
Trying to get over the difficult hurdle of reentry.
Mazie loves it outside. We all love it outside. Balls, bubbles, and the grass between our toes.
With the exception of the reentry itself, what’s not to love.