The truth about Emman

He skidded into our lives on the tail end of the hardest placement in our foster care career. I often liken the time with that placement to wearing shoes that were too small...for nine months.When Emmanuel came, we were emotionally drained from caring for these extremely needy kids whose personalities just never really meshed with ours.
Emman came with some diagnoses on paper that, once we got him in our home, we realized we were dealing with someone very different than who we had met on paper.  We went from having a kid with cerebral palsy on paper to a kid with a very real sensory disorder and attachment disorder.The implications of these new diagnoses were much more abstract and much less concrete than what we expected.
Then, right before we were supposed to consummate the adoption, we got news that his bio dad was going to fight. That fight lasted seventeen grueling months. Sometimes, when Emman has the hiccups he says: "I am hiccup," I smile and agree. He is hiccup.

Nothing with Emman has gone as planned or as expected. He has been hard won. From his legal standing, to his services, to his affection, to his diagnoses. Fight of my life. That phrase echoed in my head when the appeal began. The appeal was the fight of my life in a lot of ways. It felt heavy and awful. It was an invisible cloud of uncertainty. An unbecoming filter that colored everything I did and everywhere I went. The chance of losing him was crouching in the corner of every room I walked into for seventeen months.
I wanted to hold back from this kid who desperately needed me to give unreservedly. I wanted to protect myself from the pain of losing my son. I had to fight to keep hope, and faith that all would work together for my good. Or that, if it didn't, would God still be good? Could I still proclaim that? I look back on the seventeen months and all I know is it felt like what war must feel like. That it felt like something was pinning me down. That hope was always one inch beyond my fingertips.
I look back through my journal and it's pages and pages of scratching out verses about the character of God, of the promises of God, and begging them to be true. Begging Him not to change my life, but my heart.  It took up most of my emotional energy most days. All the while trying to fight for his affection. And trying to fight for control of this little tornado.
He bucks everything from my boundaries to my affection. We were at Hope Connection Camp last month and the family counselor and I were talking about my competitiveness (shocking, right?) and he said: "When it comes to kids in your peer group, like the children of your friends, who is winning?" I didn't hesitate. "Me." I have held back from writing about Emman because I don't want to be misunderstood. Or because I felt like having a different relationship with him than Isaiah is wrong. Bonding with a two year old when you have just twinned your two year old is...the truth about Emman is that he is HARD. He is stubborn and contrary. He is volatile and unpredictable. He is complicated. He pushes you away while clawing to keep you close.

I am constantly assessing whether what we are facing is developmental, sensory, or just cheekiness. He bucks and fights me every step. He is exhausting. Someone asked me the other day if I mainlined cocaine to keep up with him. I don't. He is a constant vibration of whirling energy.
The truth about Emman is that I lose sleep over him. I worry about him making friends. I worry about him in school. I worry about if he will ever attach to us in the way I want him to. I worry if he will be misunderstood. But the truth about him is that he is hilarious and quirky. He is brilliant. He is affectionate and friendly. The truth about Emman is that all of the fighting, the hiccups, the complications, the missteps, mishaps, and set backs have only added richness to my life. The truth about Emman is that I have gotten so many things wrong in the last two years and many days have felt like losses.
The truth about Emman is that he is my beloved son and that is a win. Its THE win.