adoption FatherWinter milestones TPR

“We don’t know what’s going to happen”

I debated sharing this post.  It’s kind of a raw place.  Writing about it almost makes it seem like I’m in a perpetual down place and that’s not the case at all.  Quite the contrary in reality.  This week has been pretty good with plenty of smiles.  We’ve celebrated some really cool milestones like Honeybee climbing the stairs from bottom to top all by herself with Mommy in front her scooting upward and Daddy behind her just in case.  She was so proud of herself.  She sat on the landing and just beamed. We are so proud of you, sweetness.  She did so again this afternoon much quicker than her previous attempt and with much more confidence.  I remember thinking  1.  I’m so proud of her and 2.  Time to put the baby gates up.

So,  no.  It’s no a bad place in our home.  But it is a place where honesty is free flowing.  Yesterday, FatherWinter and the family were in the family room watching television when FatherWinter’s phone rang.  It was one of our family members calling to see if he, Superbug, and Honeybee would still be making a trip out of town to see another relative they haven’t seen in a while.  The conversation was going well and I was about to leave the room so he could continue to talk to his relative in private when I heard “Yes, I really want to take her.  He hasn’t met her yet and who knows what’s going to happen”.

The words hit me like gut checks.  I knew he was referring to the fact that no one knows what is going to happen with our Honeybee.  No one knows the judge’s decision.  No one knows how this is going to go.  No one knows if our Honeybee will be our Honeybee for much longer.

“We don’t know what’s going to happen”

That’s the first time that I have ever been aware of FatherWinter speaking anything other than positive thoughts about this journey to his family.  The realization has been sobering. When a man who seems to have this almost annoying ability to always remain optimistic even in haltingly critical times suddenly speaks in questions, it’s scary.  It almost seems like we are preparing for the worst.  I suppose we always have been.  We’ve just not acknowledged that to our extended families, or so I thought.

She. is. our. daughter.

Sigh.  I’ve gotten in the unconscious habit of publicly vocalizing affirmations over Honeybee.  I don’t really remember when it started.  My great grandmother used to do it on occasion. Now I’m doing similar.  I’m just speaking love over .our Honeybee  You are loved.  You are blessed.  You are protected.  You are here.

Every day Honevbee does something new and amazing.  It’s amazing how smart she is.  How she is picking up things at a ridiculously quick rate.  I recently downloaded her first app.  It’s a sight and sound app that lets her tap the screen and hear the sounds of multiple animals and cars.  She loves it.  LOVES it.  She’s figured out how to reset the time out screen so she can play with the goat (her favorite sound) over and over again.  If I try and turn the phone off, she figures out a way to turn the screen back on.  I only let her play with it a little while 10-15 minutes as we go over the animal sounds together, but I am always left in awe at how fast she is growing and at the memories that we get to share.  I don’t want to not have the opportunity to do that in the future.

“We don’t know what’s going to happen”

It’s true.  We don’t.  The only thing we can do is pray.  And I have.  I will continue to do so.  I will continue to live.  I may even blog about moments of frustration or emotional stress until all is done, but I and our family is okay.  I believe with all that is in me that Honeybee will be just fine, that she will be home with us, and that she will have our love covering her forever.

But I will remember without a single misstep that we truly do not know what is going to happen.


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