I Remember the Day We Brought You Home...

I can hardly believe it's been three years since we brought home an adorable, quiet little 10-month-old boy. Three years since we signed the pre-adoption agreement that I *still* carry around in my purse. Three years since the social workers told us to take home a complete stranger and turn him into our son.

I love these eyes...

I still remember every detail. We met a tiny slip of a girl at the DSS office and followed her to a tiny little trailer in a town I still can't identify.
There we met two very nice people who were caring for a tiny little boy. The trailer reeked of smoke and the wall-paper was peeling. Apparently smoking is okay for foster parents (and I don't begrudge them that), but this place smelled terrible. Marshall and I held our breath for the better part of the hour we were there.
Then we met Mac. It was December 22 and he was wearing a wife-beater tank top. He was in a walker and we later learned he probably spent hours a day in that walker because that was his mode of conveyance - how he moved around. He had a double ear infection and bronchitis. All his clothes were in a grimy gym bag, with the rest in a black trash bag.
After being there an hour (in which time I hardly touched Mac, because the social worker said not to "swoop in and take him") SB announced she was ready to go home. Thank goodness for articulate 2-year-olds.
We loaded his things up and headed back to the DSS office to sign some papers. Then they told us to take him home. They would come in a few days to check on us.

Mac and the World's Best social worker, Amanda

Everything he had reeked of smoke. Everything. Nobody had told me not to wash a child's things because they "smell like home." I washed and rewashed everything. And then threw all but a few things in the trash because of the smell. One little toy that I put in his crib (he did not have a lovey, so that wasn't an issue), and I kept the pants and shoes he came home in. I think that was it.
Mac got a bath about 10 minutes after coming home to wash the smoke smell off of him.

We had a very rough go of it at first. I was incredibly sick/anxious for weeks. Mac would not sleep without sleeping ON someone for weeks. It was a long, hard road for us.

But now - now three years later. I am amazed. This is my child. He may not be flesh of my flesh, but he IS the love of my heart. He's gone from a blank - I do mean blank - child to an energetic, expressionful, gorgeous child.

Happy Gotcha Day to my wonderful Mackie-Boy, Mac-Man, Mac Attack, Macaroni. My son.

A confident and loved little boy...