Ok, so just when I hit a low spot and started seriously doubting some things, I went to a soccer game. Not sure what to expect beyond a welcome distraction from the day's events, I torpidly climbed the stands to take a seat and was determined to immerse myself in the game. My goal (no pun intended) was to have fun with those I love and forget all the thoughts and the heavy emotions that had been weighing on my heart for most of the week.
I scooted through the row, carefully excusing myself as I passed those already seated, and found two short, meaty legs in the chair the ticket I was holding indicated was mine. Sitting in my seat was the most adorable little chub of a girl--big, rosy cheeks, small brown eyes, and a thin mess of dark hair gathered into a tight ponytail that stuck straight up and feathered out like a fountain from her round head. I was fairly certain she was adopted (mom and dad were obviously not of the same race), and was curious to learn her story. (Call it a default reaction from a passionate worker in the adoption field if you want, however I was curious nonetheless.) I said hello and started some friendly chatter, and after only a few minutes, recognized that the family I was sitting next to was one of my clients almost 2 years ago! I had helped bring this little girl home!
All of a sudden details about the family and their particular case came flooding back to me, and it was clear the family remembered me as well. We briefly reminisced about the paperchase and my work with the family during that time, and then had the chance to discuss Gotcha Day and all the wonderous moments the family has had as a family since the day their little girl was placed in their arms. It was wonderful.
Within a few short moments (and after a gentle nudge, handsome smile, and whisper from the sweet soul sitting on the other side of me), I was reminded just why it is I do what I do. The chubby little ball of energy who was all smiles in her mommy's arms, round belly bulging from underneath her too-small bright green tank (stretched to the max as she played hide-and-seek with her belly button) was (at least in part) a product of my work and dedication--and with a family who clearly loves her to pieces. Sure, all the anxiety from the week hadn't disappeared completely, however it did significantly melt in size and intensity for the moment . . . and if even only for a moment, made my heart light again.
As usual, the timing was perfect. Although my job isn't pretty all of the time (it's a far more arduous line of work than one might think), there is a great outcome to the stressful chaos I wade through each day. And on Wednesday, it was clear . . . in rolls of flesh stuffed into flower pants and ruffled socks, pink fingernails and all. And moreso in the smiles from a mother to a daughter and back the other way.
ride the Waves. {a birth story}
3 years ago


