“He’s such a lucky boy.”
Baby and I have been stopped by a well meaning town resident who I vaguely know. He’s not the first to say this to us.
“We think we’re the lucky ones,” I say. This is not the first time I’ve answered this way.
For now, I can hate that phrase– He’s such a lucky boy- but it doesn’t yet do any damage to baby’s psyche. One day, though, it will.
The truth is that I don’t see baby’s life as lucky. Being born in a country that is so disproportionately poor and resource-starved to parents who were so poor and resource-starved themselves that they could not raise him (we know a little more about baby’s story than I am implying in the previous sentence but out of respect for baby being the keeper of his story, we are holding that private until we are able to share it with him, and he is able to decide if he’d like to share it and with whom) actually feels to me like anything but luck.
Baby’s life, to me, though, shows me what faith is– faith in something greater than ourselves and faith in other people. Think of a mother who has given birth to this beautiful boy who she, of course, loves with all her heart. Think of the challenge you must be facing in your life to make the decision she makes. Think of the wisdom she has to know that love, sometimes, means not physically holding on– a wisdom I, the girl who holds on too long, could never have. Think of the faith she has to know that the right family will be waiting for him. No, sir, how our baby’s life has evolved is not borne of luck. It came alive when a woman that I admire to my core made a decision based on faith, based on a knowing deep within her, based on a stark assessment of her life and the injustice of this world, based on what might look like hopelessness to some but what I believe is really hopefulness. I don’t know how to dramatically reconcile the poverty of this world; it is what I most wish I were able to do. It wasn’t luck that brought us together. I know that for sure. And though I can’t yet articulate all of it in the way that I wish: I know that baby coming into our lives, our coming into baby’s life is part of something bigger than all three of us.
The other day, I was typing at my computer during BF’s time with baby, and I turned towards the chirping that was going on behind me. On the floor about ten feet away was our baby boy, concentrating hard on a soft car that he was given by one of my dearest friends for his birthday. The moment, it’s smallness and hugeness all in one, stole my breath, and there I was suddenly weeping. He does this to me, this boy. He breaks my heart, opens it up, and warms it all at the same time. Even as I type these words, remembering the scene, the unremarkableness of the moment wrapped in the remarkableness of our union, I am weeping again. There are times when the only prayer that I can say, the only words that I can muster are “please, let me do enough.” Not my best, because I am terrified that I will somehow justify less than enough. And this baby boy, his biological parents, they have put so much faith in us, they have given us their trust, they have blessed our lives with this beautiful, beautiful boy. When I was weeping the other day, BF came to me and asked me if I was okay. The feeling inside of me was so big, I couldn’t give it words, I can’t really right now. I just shook my head at him, nodded towards the baby, and, thus, choked him up, too.
Remember that feeling you had the very first time you fell in love? It was so enormous that it almost didn’t fit inside of you. It felt like you would burst at any moment and that if this love somehow didn’t make it, you would die because there would be nothing else worth doing as much as loving this person. I remember thinking sometime in my twenties that love like that, that ferocity, that intensity, that joy laced with fear, doesn’t come back after first love. That the physical, visceral sensation of that only happens once. Weeping out of the blue as my child gummed on his car that day, I realized it comes back. As luck would have it, it comes back with a ferocity that swallows you.
Beautifully written. He is an amazing, beautiful little boy. I feel blessed to have met you guys and be walking part of this journey with you, bf and your beautiful blessing.
ummm… now I have big tears in my eyes too!!!! you, BF, Lola and baby are such a beautiful family! B and I were the lucky ones to have been able to share face time with you all!!! LOVE YOU!!! and you means alllll of you!!!
Wow!!!! Very powerful and emotional, Ro!! And i couldn’t agree w/Suez more!! All of you are in my heart!
You guys are indeed so lucky to have this precious gift of life….so blessed! I know you will always treasure him and let him know how lucky you guys are to get to walk him on his journey, holding his hand, kissing his ouchies, wiping his tears, sharing his joys…
Awesome writing. Truly a beautiful piece.
I get the “She’s so lucky” thing every day and it bothers me too, but there is no way I could have articulated it as well as you did in this post.
I’d like to grab a few paragraphs and link back to you, would that be ok or are you (rightfully) possessive of your word creations?
Rosie, I love this post and have some similar feelings about what we are about to do in adopting our own sweet boy. I already have gotten the “he’s so lucky” comments and he’s not even here yet. And I always think that how can he be lucky to have lost his parents and have been uprooted from his home. Sometimes I cry for his loss when I think about how he’ll feel as he grows up and comprehends what has happened in his little life. I feel I can not possibly do enough to overcome that giant loss for him. But I love the idea of doing enough. I will try my hardest to do enough for him. That certainly sounds less scary than trying to erase the past. Thank you as always for sharing your journey. Think of me and Phelps tomorrow (Oct 20), on our court date. We are hoping and praying for good news so we can have our sweet boy home soon.
Holy Smokes, Rosie. I am not crying, because I told you I wouldn’t anymore, but I do have chills up and down my body. I love you! Thank you for this BEAUTIFUL piece.
Thank you so much for summing this feeling up so beautifully Rosie. I have been at the receiving end of ‘She’s so lucky’ many times since our daughter came home from The Philippines. May I share your article, referencing your blog, in the blog I am writing? http://www.lookinlookout74.blogspot.com
God Bless,
Nicki (Australia)
Nicki, It would be my great pleasure for you to share it. Congratulations on your newest addition! Sending you all the best on your family’s journey.
Thank you, and all the best to your family too!