March 28...

Thursday night I put Ryan to bed like normal. Didn't think much of it, really. Night is not his favorite time of day, and getting into a "good" pattern has been an on-again, off-again struggle since he came home. Not a huge problem; like any other issue of childhood, you deal with it the best you can and move on. And so we praise the good nights, encourage on the not-so-good nights, and try to meet his nighttime needs the best we can. Right now, most nights are "good," so we're happy...

And so, when he woke up for the fourth time in about four hours Thursday night, I wondered what on earth was wrong. I checked for fever, listened for cough, and with a sigh picked up my pillow and climbed into bed with him. (He sleeps in a queen size bed right now--he'll share it with Logan--so there's plenty of space for me to sleep comfortably.) Instead of settling down immediately, he continued to thrash around and whimper. Plus, he was doing his "I'm extremely agitated" thing, rubbing the sheets furiously with his palms. After a while, he finally snuggled up and settled in and slept the remainder of the night. Surprisingly, he was up very early yesterday morning, and it wasn't the best day we've had.

I chalked it up to a change in routine. Our big guys are all on Easter vacation this week, and the girls have been hanging out at home with us. Plus, his little friends Lauren and Emily, who spend every Wednesday and Thursday with us, had runny noses on Thursday. Maybe he caught something from one of them. Anyway, we lumped along through our day, grateful for the snow falling that kept us entertained.

Today, while doing some ironing, it dawned on me: March 28 is the day Ryan was found on the orphanage steps. Abandonment Day. Not pretty, and something that ALWAYS surprises me. Every year. I cannot imagine how deep the wound must be for a 3 year old abandoned at not quite 9 weeks to agonize once a year ON THE ABANDONMENT ANNIVERSARY the loss he suffered. It blows my mind. This little soul, so loved here and so comfortable with his life, truly mourns this loss. It's gut-wrenching to watch. This is the third time we've been through this, and you'd think I'd remember. But I didn't. And because I didn't, one very special little boy had to mourn alone until his tired momma climbed into bed to snuggle him.

As my heart aches for the hurt I can't heal in my Ryan, it also aches for his "China Momma" and his "China Daddy." I cannot begin to imagine the depth of loss they must feel. Nine weeks is a long time to have a baby around before determining that you simply aren't able to raise him. We know nothing about Ryan's birth parents or why he was left, but we pray for them regularly. We pray for their hearts and their healing. Our heartfelt prayer is that someday we will all be together in heaven, rejoicing in the little boy so deeply loved on two continents. Tonight, though, my heart breaks for them and for their loss.