We live across the street from my grandma, the girls' great-grandma. Today my older two are over there helping her do a few things around the house. Aside from eating lunch with them, Amy and I have had the whole day to ourselves.
It got me thinking about something. I think the first time around, when I first got Hannah, I may have been the problem.
I'm serious. I have issues. Just ask my family. They have a list. It's pretty long.
Back then I thought I knew what it was going to be like. I thought I had this whole adoption thing pegged.
I thought wrong.
I didn't know anything.
So I fussed and struggled and complained and made life miserable. It was one nine-year-old. Seriously. I look back now and think, "What was wrong with me?"
To be honest, I made the whole thing harder than it needed to be.
I try not to be too hard on myself from back then. After all, I had no idea things were going to ever get better. Experience is an excellent teacher and this third time around is still a lot of work, but it's not the emotional roller coaster the first one was.
So I sit back today and enjoy my time with the new one. I appreciate the path I've walked. I appreciate the changes I've seen, not in her, but in me. I appreciate the day I can have with her, because today I'm different.
I think it was me all along.