Special needs adoption involves a continuous revaluation of what you can handle. Although it was months and months ago when we completed our agency's medical needs checklist in consultation with an international adoption clinic doctor, we look back on the list and notice that we had at that time said we weren't open to a condition that no longer seems scary or that we were open to other conditions, but never imagined that we'd be presented with a file for a child with three or four diagnoses that on their own are pretty significant.
Chris and I occasionally check in with each other to make sure we're still on the same page. Tonight I turned to him, Mr. Athletic who has excelled at every sport he has ever tried (except for cross-country skiing, but that's a story for another day) and told him I worried he would be disappointed if we had a child with physical limitations who couldn't keep up with him. He looked genuinely surprised that I would think such a thing about him.
"Of course I'd love him! I still wanted to marry you."
I will never be as fast, as strong or as coordinated as Chris. I can barely keep up with him on a bike, even when he's pulling the bike trailer with both kids. I've cried at the top of steep ski runs, the same ones Chris breezed down without a hint of trepidation. I only tried water-skiing because I wanted to impress him so badly, but on the inside was not having fun being dragged around a cold lake by a boat going 30 miles per hour. Chris never expected me to be able to do all the things he loves on his level and won't impose those expectations on any of our children.
"True," I replied as Chris flashed a sheepishly devilish grin at me. "But you know what you said is going on my blog."
Kiera, Matteo, Oliver and Soren
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