Adoption Day

It is the eve of the first anniversary of B's adoption day.  He has been home almost two years but we only finalized his adoption one year ago tomorrow.  It seems such a short time ago, I cannot believe nearly two years have passed.  As with any of the milestones and anniversaries we celebrate with our boys, I spend much of the day conflicted about how much to celebrate and how much to mourn.  Although it is a happy day for me as his parent, it really is a day of mourning for him.  His adoption signifies so much loss that has already in many ways clouded his short life.  Adoption is a loss, a loss of biology, of culture, of heritage and family that will never be replaced by our family or his American life.  As a lean over his bed to kiss him goodnight or bring him water for the third time as he fights going to sleep, my mind drifts to at least two women who would give anything to be in my place tonight.  I think how much his foster mom must miss him and how difficult it must of been to turn him over to strangers.  I vow tonight to send more letters and photos to her and attempt to reconnect.  I think how difficult it must have been for his birth mother to feel as if she had no choice but to place him for adoption.  I vow to write more letters and send more photos to her knowing full well she may never receive them.  This day is not a date either of those women know but they will fill my heart and thoughts throughout it.  I long to know them, to remember their faces and be able to tell him more of who they are.  I wonder what questions he will want answered as this day passes each year.  I wonder how to strike the delicate balance between the joy and grief this day represents.