I'm not supposed to cry.
In exactly one month, me and my love will fly over 5,000 miles to an unfamiliar country. We will be surrounded by a language and a culture we do not know. We will trust some people we do not know to take us along a bumpy four hour drive to another small city where we will visit a government-run institution for children with special needs. We will meet the people who have taken care of our daughter for seven years. We will talk with them about her and ask every kind of question we can think of. Then, they will bring a little girl into the room whom we do not know but have been waiting ten months to meet. A room of people we do not know will be surrounding us watching us meet our daughter for the very first time.
And, I'm not supposed to cry.
As we prepare for this exciting, nerve-racking, wonderful trip to Bulgaria, this is one of the things I am most worried about---crying.
I am a cry-er, y'all. I was a blubbering mess during my entire wedding, and I cry at every sappy movie, every gotcha day video, every adoption story I hear. I even sometimes cry when I see a sweet daddy and daughter out in public because it makes me think of Jeremy and Ivelina one day.
Our case worker says that we want all of our time spent with Ivelina to be positive and happy. We want her to have fond memories of us when we leave. Understandably, she would be very confused to meet a strange couple for the first time only to see them visibly upset. It just won't make sense to her. So, that moment when we first see her, I will want to cry. The emotions and nerves will be running high, and I will be fighting back tears, but for her sake, I'm not supposed to cry.
We will spend the week visiting her at her orphanage every day and playing with her, bonding with her, and helping her become comfortable with us. Then, after five glorious days, Friday will come. Friday we will say "see you later" (not good-bye) to Ivelina and again, while she is present, I am not supposed to cry. This seems humanly impossible to me, but again, we do not want her parting memory of us to be me breaking down into a pool of tears and collapsing on the floor with heartache.
When our week with her is over, we will make that bumpy drive and that long flight back home with empty arms. Then, I can cry. I'm already mentally preparing myself. This trip is going to be SO good and SO hard. I really don't know how I'm going to handle it all. I guess I won't know until it's happening how heart-wrenching this trip is going to be. We are going to learn so much about our daughter that week in January, but leaving her there is going to be the hardest thing I have ever had to do.
Thanks for reading,