The past 48 hours have been BRUTAL on our bodies -- and our minds. We're extremely tired and a little crazy at this point. But from the moment we arrived at the airport at 4 am on Friday morning, things have gone remarkably smoothly. In fact, we even braved the MRT (Taiwan's metro/subway) and came out victorious (if only my husband could have seen me -- he would be SO proud :) )! It's been such a whirlwind of travel and sight-seeing, but tomorrow (tonight for all of you!) we'll get to do what we came here to do.
Today my heart is both elated and heavy, if that's possible. In about 15 hours I will get to hold our daughter for the first time. The moment that has consumed my thoughts for the past few months is finally coming to fruition. I've dreamed of it going several ways. Of course there's the romanticized versions where our eyes meet, she knows I'm her mom and we spend hours each day blissfully bonding at the orphanage. Maybe she even calls me 'Mama' before I leave :). I know this dream is just that - a dream. Reality is she's almost 2 1/2 years old and she's never seen me before. I don't speak her language. I don't look like any of her caregivers or her doctors - or anyone else she's learned to trust. When I walk into that orphanage, I can't run up to her, scoop her up in my arms and kiss her like I've been longing to do. I'm going to have to slowly work my way into her heart. I know she's mine, but she has no clue. I'm just a stranger to her. For now. So my excitement is overwhelming. But at the same time, it's stifled by the reality that I've missed over 2 years of her life, and I'll eventually be taking her away from everything she's ever known.
I've been praying that God would create a peace in her heart that transcends all understanding. That when I reach out for her for the first time she doesn't turn away in fear. But even if she does, I trust God to use those 5 days I have with her to grow our relationship. And maybe, just MAYBE, when I walk out those doors to go back home, I won't be the only one crying.