Breathing continues to be hard.
Adoption squeezes the breath right out of you and from past experience I know that not until you stand on U.S. soil are you able to inhale clearly again.
I want him home.
I want to tuck him in bed that first night. I want to cover him with the blanket we received in the mail yesterday with HIS NAME embroidered on it. It's covered with sailing ships which I find quite appropriate because I would sail in a raft to bring him home if I had to.
Our court date was moved from April 21 to April 23.
That is a GOOD thing. There was some paperwork that had to be done for court that was most likely not going to make it by the 21st which would have meant delay and rescheduling. The later date gives our facilitator a few more days to get those papers completed.
It means though that next week is going to be a mad dash across and back for me.
I teach on Monday and then we fly out at midnight. We arrive in the capital late Tuesday night, take an express train to his region on Wednesday, arriving late Wednesday night. We have court on Thursday, April 23rd. "Ian" will be with us for court and we will get to spend the afternoon with him. Then I must get on a train back to the capital that night. I will have one day in the capital to wander alone and terribly lonely. I fly home Saturday morning early.
Break my heart.
Five days of travel and I only get to spend a few hours with my boy to hug him and kiss him and look into his eyes and breathe his air and soak him in and then I have to leave him. Again.
Rob will stay. He will stay and visit "Ian" each afternoon for ten agonizingly long days.
I will come home and take care of the littlest and will be counting the days, hours, minutes, seconds until I get to cross the ocean again to help bring our newest littlest home.
Like I said. Breathing is really hard right now.