Two years ago

I was dejected, sad and certain that Christmas would come and go again with no referral.  I had been in process for almost 2 years with nothing to show for it except a dwindling bank account, growing frustration and battered up heart after having to decline a little boy who wasn't to be my son.  As if on autopilot I dialed the number of my agency for an update and to pose unlikely hypothetical questions like, "what happens if I get a referral while your office is closed for Christmas?  The government offices are closed too, so would it sit in an inbox until early January?"  As usual, I was passed off and placated by being told to call the director at governmental adoption services.  Begrudgingly I did.  I left the office I was at and headed out towards the next, dialing as I exited the parking lot.  I was half way through my speech when she interrupted me to say, "I hope it won't be an issue (the referral over Christmas) since I'm looking at your referral on my desk right now."  Silence... did I hear her right?  Shock.  MY referral?  On your desk?  Why oh why didn't SOMEBODY call me???  Who cares - seems to be moot at this point.  Did I have internet access?  No.  But if I cut this semi off and make a California lane change I can squeal into that Starbucks lot without public injury and be live in about 45 seconds.  There was no fanfare this time.  No call made to anyone to be there to share the moment.  My pounding heart was guarded and afraid of the sadness that followed the first happy email moment.  Alone in the parking lot with the rage of the semi's fog horn still ringing in my ears, I hit "Accept" on the Starbucks home page and send and receive at a rate of 4x / second until the email titled REFERRAL topped the list.  There he was

I had seen this picture a hundred times before as I scoured the photo listing but I never attached the potential words, "My son" to them until that moment.  Numb. He looked as scared as I felt.  I waited.  I contacted Dr. Bledsoe at the Center for Adoption Medicine and held my breath.  Additional photos arrived which were happier "cuter" if you will... I started to let hope creep in.  The call that mattered most came a day later.  Dr. Bledsoe's nurse called, "She can't squeeze you in for a consult right away but it's OK.  She knows you need to have an answer to give your agency quickly and her answer to that is yes... BIG GREEN LIGHT!  You should accept and go meet him".  Exhale... and that was another moment that changed our lives.  My hope grew with the consult discussion on Saturday.  "Resilient little Rascal" over and over - he's got something in his eyes that tells me he'll adapt, adjust, and be fine... He's a good one... All the words of reassurance I needed.  The scramble to pack, get a travel visa and collect my thoughts began. This year as we were driving the song "All I want for Christmas Is YOU" came on my ipod and I told Corbin the story of how it had been on my blog and how I did meet him at Christmas 2 years ago.  The only other song he has ever asked to play over and over is the wheels on the bus... it made my heart smile when he said, "Mama, play that one again... I like it best".
2 years... a blink, a million moments, a million memories, a lifetime of smiles, giggles and laughter.  2.  Wow.  That went fast.   It was a Merry Christmas after all.