What Have I Done?
2004-02-09,

To start, I suggest you read my wife�s eloquently explained yesterday, so that I might add to it.

Done? Good. So yes, I said it. It�s one of the more difficult things I�ve ever uttered. It amazes me how much weight one single word can carry, and how hard it is to say them when they�re so heavy. But sometimes they just drop out of you like a brick out of a wet paper bag. Yesterday was one of those times.

We�d been out the night before until 4am chatting with relatively new friends Kevin and Lisa, and had a 45-minute ride home on top of that. We managed to be in bed by 5am, and then up by 11am. Not much sleep for me, having been out that late, but sleep in much longer and suddenly the day�s gone, and that�s no good. O we got up and went out for lunch at Chi-Chi�s cos we hadn�t been there in a long time, we�d realized, and it was near where we were going shopping. I managed to stay awake all the way through lunch! Naturally, the sight of children around the restaurant brought up various internal rumblings in the both of us, especially this one boy who was quite upset and was being comforted by his mother in the foyer of the restaurant, all the while moaning that tragic, 5-year-old moan-cry that could have been induced by anything from a broken toy to the loss of a parent (all the same to a 5-year-old, at least in the very short term). It�s the kind of sound that could induce pity in even the hardest and coldest of people. It was gut-wrenching to listen to, and I didn�t even know who the child was.

Lesson About James:

When James is very tired, his emotions tend to ride close to the surface. This makes him very susceptible to emotional stimuli and reactions tend to be quick and somewhat overmuch, mainly in the happy-sad range. In other words, James becomes a big softie.

So after lunch we head to Bed, Bath and Major Life Decisions or some wedding gift shopping for people I either barely know or don�t know at all. Which always lends toward the thoughtfulness of the gift, don�t you think? Anyway, we�re in the kitchen gadget area and happen upon a rather cool-looking toaster oven. It�s got a mechanical timer on it, like all the good ones do, and it makes the most wonderful ticking sound you ever heard (if you�re into ticking sounds, that is). The kind of ticking you could fall asleep to, like with a good quality wind-up clock. And as it�s retro, a style for which H and I oft jones, it was near perfect. We couldn�t buy it, of course, because we�re saving our pennies for a maybe baby. A moment later, a couple wanders by, followed by their daughter.

Their 5-ish year old, adoptee (I assume, as the parents were not) Chinese daughter.

Suddenly I was in a dream like haze, ad I had to follow the girl, if only just to be sure I�d seen what I�d seen. And then, standing once again by the toaster ovens, this beautiful little Asian girl walks by me to meet up with her departing parents.

Everything in me wanted this to not be a sign, but the feeling was unmistakable. Moments later, H and I stood together, amongst the kitchen gadgets and blenders, and I was aware of every sound, every thing around me, like my mind was recording everything with great detail (for a change). In my sleep-deprived, weakened state and in my heightened state of awareness, the word formed deep within me and used my lips as a means to its long-awaited escape. And my life changed.

Suddenly everything became a worry, I was regretting spending money on lunch, we had to clean our entire house from top to bottom and I was making vows to eat nothing but Ramen noodles and mac & cheese for the next year, at least. Every penny was suddenly quite precious. It was as if a whole new section of my paternal instincts were kicking in, and for a child that didn�t even yet exist in any fundamental way. How strange it is to be an adoptive parent. There is just so much to cope with, both internally and externally. And all this without any guarantees. Dealing with definite loss and potential gain all at once, it�s just crazy. Oh, how I do envy you all out there, with the power to create life. Joe Schmuck can make a baby on accident, and I have a year (at least) of hardship and effort just for a chance at putting my hand into a grab bag and seeing what I manage to get, at a cost of thousands of dollars. It makes me want to scream.

But in the end, when I�m given that child for the first time, I know it will be worth it. It has to be.

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