Santa couldn't stop crying as he hugged my daughter tightly. Then, he said the only thing he could: "I'll see what I can do, Sarah. I'll see what I can do." Santa was a wreck as we walked away. I wasn't faring much better.
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The adoption process has taken its toll on me emotionally. Nothing prepares you to be away from your family for six weeks, and in a country where you feel deaf, mute, and illiterate.
When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become real. When you are real, you don't mind being hurt.
Strangers and acquaintances question visibly adoptive families like ours all the time -- most with friendly curiosity, a few with hostility.
We're moms without children. It's an ache that doesn't go away. It starts before we see their faces and only ends when they're in our arms.
"I simply got tired of waiting for a man to share my journey... I was ready and I thought, 'Mister Right seems to be running late, so I'll just start the party without him.'"
As a mother by adoption, nothing gets my ire up more than sensational and judgmental stories about families formed by adoption.
Many children struggle with perfectionism, whether they are adopted or raised by their biological parents.
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