Grateful: He’s mine


I know that face.

It’s been nine months since we first met Benjamin on a warm, sticky February night, right after we set foot in Africa for the first time. He was placed in our arms confused and wary, looking at us like the strangers we were. I felt strange and out of place, not feeling completely sure this was right anymore.

Yesterday, when I was laying Benjamin down asleep for his nap, I took the purple blanket out of his crib because I knew that the fringe might freak him out when he awoke. I laid another blanket over him and bunched up the excess under his side, knowing how he likes to feel something to lean against. We had company so I turned the fan on for some extra white noise, knowing he’s a light sleeper.

I know he’s okay to hang out in his crib in the morning as he sings to himself for awhile. I know how to handle his contrary mood after he wakes up from a nap (lots of snuggles and waiting for him to decide that he’s hungry even though I know so already). I know what he’s thinking when he touches something that’s off-limits and he turns around to look at me, all doe-eyed. I know how to make him belly-laugh without tickling him. I know his fake cry when he sees a Christmas tree, scared of the prickly needles (we’re working on this one).

I know his smile, I know his eyes, I know how music is his language, I know his quirks, I anticipate his needs.

I know him in the same way I know my other children. His unique impression is imprinted on my heart and I know the way to his. He loves me and prefers me like the mama I am to him, and neither of us will ever be the same.

A beautiful friend once told me that after both of her adoptions, there came a very regular, mundane moment when she realized that they had finally gotten there — the bond was complete, sealed; they were whole.

Before the foundation of the world, maybe God knew that Benjamin was going to be mine. I’m not sure if it really works that way, but I used to think that our bond would be complete the first day I met him, together at last. Instead, it happened in a series of moments just like this one over the last nine months, in the small details of everyday connection. And then, in the breathtaking beauty of an ordinary moment, when I took the purple blanket out of his crib and looked back at his beautiful dozing face, I knew that I knew.

I realized that finally, we’ve connected the circle. We are whole, complete. He is mine and I am his. We’ll be doing the work of connection and love and attachment for the rest of our lives, but it finally feels easy, natural. And I am so, so grateful.

Linking up for Five Minute Friday on The Gypsy Mama, though it’s cheating a bit since I didn’t write this in five minutes. I had just published this post when she posted the link-up, and the theme fit so perfectly I couldn’t NOT include it in the link-up. Thanks for grace!

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5 comments on “Grateful: He’s mine

  1. Jules says:

    >Forgiven, I say.
    These moments, the ones that soul speak, are gorgeous, so thanks for sharing them with us.

  2. Nani says:

    >Beautifully written. I felt what you were saying!

  3. Amy says:

    >Oh, I love this. That moment of feeling that family bond come together must have been wonderful. And he is such a cutie pie!

    PS Visiting from Gypsy Mama. 🙂

  4. Meredith says:

    >Oh this is just gorgeous…
    I adore it.

    My aunt and uncle adopted my cousin Kallee from China, and I have friends who have adopted from overseas as well.

    So it resonates, on a familiar level . . . and it was just so perfect.
    Thank you for linking it up.

  5. Kimberly Van Brunt says:

    >Thanks for the love, everyone! 🙂