Some of my family members read this blog, most of them don’t know that it exists. If I meet my untimely demise, FPD has permission to show it to them. It isn’t that my family is made of bad people we’re just, well, different. We differ in religions (we range from devout Catholic to atheist), we differ in education, we differ in life choices and we differ significantly in child rearing practices. This is where I stick out like a sore thumb. There isn’t one member of my extended family, even when digging through our family history, that has had more than four children. And, four children is stretching it.
When we adopted the Diva everyone sighed, but understood, they thought it was because we just wanted our girl. It was, and we did. But, had she come out a boy, like GigantoBaby did, we would have loved her just the same. But, everyone assumed when the Diva arrived that we were complete. The day I looked into her eyes, I knew I wasn’t finished. FPD agreed, after he had breathed a little. We didn’t tell anyone about Bubbles. She was like our happy little family secret. We told everyone the door was still open for us. But, until she hit U.S. soil some of our family didn’t know about her. Some have yet to meet her. Some don’t care to. It’s their loss, because her siblings think she is wonderful. We think she is amazing. So, they’ve lost her and all that comes with her. All for one, you know.
My parents were almost amongst that group. They love our kids more than life itself, but they don’t understand our choices. Don’t we ever want to have fancy vacations again? Don’t I want to go shopping and just be able to buy the things I want? Don’t I want to be able to quit working so hard? Sure I do. But, I want these kids more. So, when my dad called from his vacation yesterday to tell me that he had met someone on the streets of Charleston who was weaving baskets in West African style and that it reminded him of his newest granddaughter, I was touched. He bought us one for our house to honor her heritage. I knew right then that we’re getting there. Acceptance is coming, little by little.
who is off to enjoy Sunday dinner with her large family.