My journey with Hamilton...
Today is the last day of the routine and monotony and the truly holy experience that has been my days for the last 6 weeks. There have been interruptions in the daily routine, Bill here for a few days for court or shopping and celebrating with the Peterson's their last few days here. The days start much earlier when I go to visit the baby but always end the same way with visiting Hamilton.
For the most part, the days have begun with oatmeal and coffee, a quick shower and a walk to the metro. To be followed by a metro ride, changing to a different line and a ride to the end. Mostly I walk from the metro station to the orphanage but occasionally I'll take the bus to save the 20 minutes. We visit for two hours, I walk back towards the metro, have some lunch and then head back to the orphanage for the 5-7pm visit.
I'm sad this is the last day of this leg of the journey. Tomorrow we start the paper chase and I hope to have both babes out by week's end. As much as I've longed for the day when I can free my babies from the orphanages, I've also begun to realize I will likely never have again 4 hours a day with Hamilton, where all that is required of me is to be present with my child. There is no phone, no internet, no laundry or housework or work waiting in the office. There are no other children in need of me, or dogs or a husband. Four hours a day to simply love my child in the most present form which one can possibly be. To play with my child, to learn my child, to fall more deeply in love...to rock him and kiss him and sing to him. To read him a book for the first time, to change his diaper for the first time...To day by day, hour by hour, love his personality to the surface, to rekindle the light in his soul...To Love out his grins and coax out real smiles and even today, a true belly laugh. Each small step to the surface that he makes is a great victory for his young being and probably a small healing of some sort. I have quietly celebrated each of those victories, and loudly shared many along the way. But nothing has been as precious as his eyes searching for me, the way that they meet mine as I feed him, now that he allows me to cradle him as you do an infant. This position has been chosen by him and he watches me as he sucks from his pouch of food...his eyes meet mine and he watches my face, sometimes reaching up to touch my cheek. While I rock him he cuts his eyes up at me stealing glances and sometimes he turns his face all the way to the side so that he can look longer, just gazing at me. And when he looks at me in that way, that way where I know he truly sees me, there is no doubt in mind that he knows, he knows that I am his mother.