the attachment dance

Dr. Karyn Purvis either coined or borrowed the term, and I gotta say it's a great word for what goes on in the life of an adoptive family.  Tate has been home 5 months as of Thursday last week.  5 months is really not a long time, in fact in some respects it's nothing.  In our world, it's everything.  After I remembered this information I took in a big sigh and realized all in all we are doing really well.  When you think of where he was and what sights and sounds enveloped him just 5 short months ago, the kid is incredibly resilient.

He has learned to trust us in his limited capacity for food, water, clothing, and the beginning stages of love.  He has learned about 10 spoken English words.  He knows that Momma and Daddy lift these rectangular things to their ears and say "hello."  He does this too with just about anything.  He has learned that his blankie is just about the most precious and comforting thing in the entire world.  He's figured out that the ladies and men in the nursery at church are not in fact evil, as his tears might suggest, but fun and will care for him until Momma or Daddy returns.

I love him so much it hurts.  I begged and pleaded with God for a child on many cold and lonely nights, and God gave me Tate.  He is perfect for me, although in the last week this feeling became real on a whole new level.  He tests my patience like you would not believe, or maybe you would if you've raised a child with a strong & independent nature.  "No hitting, and we don't throw toys" have become a part of my speech every, well let's say, every 5 minutes or so.  This past weekend Tate has been dealing with a bad cold and 4 molars working their way through his gums.  He has gone from soft baby babble and blowing kisses to Momma, to an out of control scream fest.

So back to the "perfect for me," part.  He's perfect because God knows I do not like things that are hard.  I often quit things that are hard.  Cry about things that are hard. Stomp my feet and pout about things that are hard.  I can cry and stomp my feet about Tate, but I can't quit.  Parenting is hard, but filled with so much beauty and redemption it's crazy.  God is redeeming me every day through my new relationship with my son.  He is carving off the bad branches, sanding off the splinters, and creating something new.  He is trusting that I will follow Him, because He knows (that I know) there is NO way I can do this without Him.