Last weekend, our family had the opportunity to meet staff members from our adoption agency, A.A.C. A.A.C. is based out of Colorado, but they made a special trip to Okinawa, after visiting Korea. Unfortunately, our adoption case manager did not make the trip, but we were able to meet two women with whom we have had limited contact in the past.
While our time together totaled only a bit more than an hour, the meeting left us optimistic that we will be united with our son, [L], sooner than expected. What will happen, of course, is anyone’s guess and will not be influenced directly by anyone present at the informal meet and greet. Regardless, putting names to faces and having an in-person conversation about the adoption process provided a greater sense of comfort and security than one might imagine.
We were shown photos and videos taken of [L] days earlier. He appears to be a thriving little boy, who is curious about the world around him, focused on toys given to him, and enthusiastic about moving. Indeed, he is already standing and trying to walk at 10-months old. Shortly after the visit we were provided additional photos and videos of [L]. The series of photos and videos begin with a sign bearing, in part, our surname and [L]’s full name, tangible proof that the process is progressing.
Since receiving the videos, we have watched them several times with [S]. She signs for more after each video has concluded, wanting to see more of her soon-to-be-baby-brother-[L]. In fact, she will tell you her brother’s name is Baby [L], a loving affirmation that his American name suits him. Yesterday, as I watched [S] draw on her whiteboard, she held up the blue dry erase marker and said, “Mine, mine, mine.” I looked at her in silence, unprepared for her next set of words. As she began waving the marker in the air, she said, “No, [L], no, [L]. Mine.”