I am sitting here in the light of a laptop awaiting the return of the boy to his school. This first home visit was one that we were so excited about and filled with much promise. Coming in at gate 13 (omen or coincidence that is his birthday?) brought the light of my life into view.
Jumping up and down as the airplane landed and starring out the window at the gate filled me with such happiness and excitement. Plans, schedules, input, hard work, and amazing insights brought us to this point some 409 days or 9,816 hours after this journey began.
I truly believed that we would see the cracks, but that they could be repaired without major structural damage. I truly believed that I would be right in my insights into the bread-crumbs that were dropped at the last visit and in telephone conversations that followed. I truly believed that I would be right, but that I was open to being wrong with every inch of my being.
I was right.
As I try to stay awake for what will be the ripping of the child from my arms, I will turn around, walk upstairs, and take a sleeping pill. This, I hope will counter the enormous amount of caffeine and adrenaline pumping through my body. I hope the nausea will retreat, that my psyche will be tampered down, and that my bundle of joy arrives safe and sound.
I love him and already miss him more than I could imagine.