I went to eat lunch at school with Aven yesterday. She was so excited to see me since I had told her I wasn't 100% sure I was going to make it. I brought Sonic per her request and when she saw me, she ran up to me, leaped into my arms and gave me an enormous hug. We sat down at one of the lunch tables and started to eat.
It wasn't long before another family came in and sat down next to us. The mother was tall and thin. Her hair was perfectly straight - not a hair out of place - despite the rain. She was wearing skinny jeans, designer rain boots and a tailored rain coat. She had on just the right amount of make up. Her husband looked casually cool in khaki shorts and a button-up shirt. Their toddler son was wearing a similar button-up shirt with the perfectly on pointe for spring turquoise checks. His shorts were navy blue cargo and he had on navy leather sandals. Their daughter came in to the cafeteria wearing a cute flowered dress and white tights. Her hair bow perfectly matched the dress and her silver shoes weren't missing a single sequin. Her lunch box was leather and had her name etched into it. Her mom opened her Greek yogurt and poured some berries into it. She ate lunch meat and cheese roll-ups and drank water out of her Ozarka bottle. There wasn't a piece of hair out of place on any of them. No mud on their rain boots. Their white tights were spotless.
They were beautiful and perfect.
And I suddenly felt completely and utterly inadequate in my dirty scrubs and tennis shoes, hair up in its perpetual ponytail (frizzy because of all the rain). Aven - though always beautiful - was wearing a mismatching skirt and shirt and half her hair was falling out of her perpetual ponytail. Her lunch box was faded canvas and we were sharing an incredibly unhealthy hamburger and french fries. There was mud on my tennis shoes and I can guarantee that any white tights Aven has are spattered with stains. Never mind that my kid is usually the one packing a salad for lunch or that I'd worked out for an hour already that morning. Or that my scrubs, tennis shoes and pony tail were necessary for wrestling a 100 pound pig later that day. Or - most importantly - that my daughter had eyes only for me for the entire half hour lunch period. Yet it took something as small and simple as a family eating lunch to make me lose sight of all of that.
My point? Lately these same doubts and insecurities have plagued my thoughts about our adoption. Maybe it's the amount of time it is taking to get our home study back. The lag in the paperwork process has given me way too much time to think. What if this isn't the right decision? What if we aren't a good family for Charlie? Is there too much of an age gap between him and the girls? Are we being unfair to the girls? We only have girls - what if he wants a boy to play with? Will he be able to make friends here? Do I really want to purposefully go seeking out ways to be a "conspicuous family"? I know my fears are normal. I know that. Even so, I struggle.
I have to remind myself that as hard as it is for me to say, yes, this is the right decision (and it is), it is immeasurably harder for Charlie if I say no. And that is all it takes to shift my perspective and focus back to where they need to be - on that sweet little boy who's only hope rests on the decisions of this imperfectly perfect family.
How did you deal with your doubts and fears as you moved through the adoption process?
