Family Day

(If you're looking for Way Back Wednesday, scroll down beneath this post)

Nine years ago I was sitting in a hotel room in Wilmington Delaware thinking, “what the heck have I done?”
Ironically, it’s nine years later and I’m sitting in my living room thinking the exact same thing.

Today (January 29) is our “family day,” the day that Hannah, Lizzie, Rob and I became a family in the sleety, snowy morning of a day that forever changed the course of my life. Back then I was scared about the mistakes I would make … and there have been plenty.

For instance there was the day that I had to call poison control not once, but TWICE.

Or the day Hannah broke her leg, but I didn’t notice until the next morning.

Or the day both girls ended up in the Emergency Room during Aunt B’s wedding, one arriving with Rob and a park ranger escort, and one arriving 30 minutes later with me and (the same) park ranger escort.

There have been days when children have swallowed pennies, locked themselves in hot cars, painted the walls and themselves with Vasoline, drew on other people’s walls, ate other people’s cat’s food, pulled shades off the windows, ran screaming through a quiet library, ran screaming into the middle of the road, ran screaming into the middle of the parking lot or lay down screaming in the middle of WalMart.

There were days I prayed they would walk or talk soon, and days I cursed the fact that they never sat down or stayed quiet.

I have held the door open for them when they wanted to run away.

I have held the door open for them when they wanted to come back, realizing that beyond the driveway was a scary place. Until the next time I held the door open for them to run away.

I have knocked my head against a wall with kindergarten math. And first, second and third grade math.

I have yelled more loudly than I ever thought I would and loved more deeply than I ever thought possible.

I have fought for them and with them.

I have cried for them and with them.

I have prayed for them and with them.

And I’ve seen Rob do the same.

Nine years ago I was worried how I’d raise another man and woman’s children. I wondered how we’d be a family. The logistics alone seemed daunting. If I did not see myself in these children, how could I guide them? How could I tease out the best of them?

Now I know that the mistakes we made, the things we’ve atoned for, the laughs we’ve shared and the lessons we’ve learned have made us the family we are. For better or worse but mostly, I think, for better.

So yes, I do still ask myself, “what have I done?” -- usually because someone is complaining that her oatmeal is too cold or her hamster’s cage smells funky or she forgot she had three pages of math homework or she needed four pieces of posterboard and a rolling pin for science.

And so, like always, I throw my hands up to heaven and plunge forward like I’ve always done, aware of the mistakes I’ll still likely make and for which I will soon atone.

But I also know that what I have done isn’t all bad. In fact, it’s those very missteps, the changes of horse midstream, the frustration in my daughters' eyes – that bond us to the inevitable joy that is also our family. Our crazy, spirited, not always normal family. Our family created by something, it now seems, deeper and richer than blood. We are bonded by love and ultimately by a life shared.

As time has passed it’s become clear that I don’t love these girls as if they were my own; I love them because they are my own.

And on family day, and in fact, every day, that's our greatest blessing.

 

The above is a picture of Aunt Terry who was the first person to visit us in the hotel where we spent our first week as a family (and arrived with all of BabiesRus in tow!!). Hannah is on the left; Lizzie on the right. Hard to believe they were already nine weeks old -- they are so tiny!!