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Infant Charlie vs. Baby Roman

After a meeting last night, a lady who is a midwife asked if she could ask me a personal question. Of course, I don't mind. She asked if I felt differently overall toward Charlie as an infant, than I did toward Roman as a baby. I know she didn't mean it like "do you love him more" kind of thing. Her experience is birthing babies, and the instincts that come with that, and she was curious if it has developed differently.

My brief and precise answer was yes, I feel much differently toward Charlie than I did Roman. We talked a little, but I knew I needed to think more on it. At this point, of course, I don't love them any different. When we first got Roman, I loved him but it was more of a "I'm a responsible for him" love. It wasn't an all-encompassing, throw myself in front of a bus for him love. Yet. With Charlie, I did feel that immediately. Maybe it was because of the way he came to us. Maybe because he wasn't supposed to be here at all.

But now I am in awe of both of them. I tried to explain this to Roman the other day. It is simply amazing how God worked for the paperwork to be in the right place, the right time, and to have Roman's information cross that same desk at the right time, to match him up to us. I know it was God's handiwork because Roman is OURS. Has always been meant for us. I can't believe we were allowed to go to Russia and claim him as our own. I am in awe every time I think of his birth city, of the baby home, of the life he would have led if God had not allowed our lives to come together.

For Charlie, I am in awe of the fact that I grew him. He was a bunch of cells, he was a fetus, and he came out of my body as a living, breathing, human being. There's not much more I can say than that. I look at him and can't believe Doug and I actually created him. And he's a separate little person. Just amazing.

So yes, it does feel different. Both of them came with drama - a Russian adoption and a premature birth. But having both of them now I feel like a complete family.

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