Bringing home an older child feels very different than bringing home a baby or a toddler in some obvious ways and other not so obvious ways.  Zechariah (at almost seven years old) can talk to me about what he is thinking/feeling.  He can tell me when he’s upset in a way that I didn’t experience with Seth (infant adoption) and Leah (2 years old).  He also has the ability to ask me to take him on an airplane to Uganda – his homeland.  In those times, more frequent these days, I weep in my heart for him and for the country that he now knows only from a far.  
Today was another type of milestone.  I went to the local elementary school to meet with the principal and decide where Zechariah belongs for school.  At almost seven, he has never set foot in a school, so it’s tricky.  Saving the story of what the school is like for another day, I loved my meeting with the principal.  She is amazing and we are soooo blessed to be just two blocks away from her awesome school.  But somewhere about half way through the meeting, I started to get this intense feeling of dread.  Here I was – talking about a child who I’ve only known ten weeks at this point – getting ready to send him to school.  Real school.  Not preschool school.  But “big kid” school.  By himself.  Without me (or his nanny). 

As I felt the fear well up in my heart, I reminded myself that this is part of older child adoption:  letting go earlier than you otherwise may.  With Seth and Leah, I got to hold tight for a while longer while they stepped slowly (or at least slower) through the stages of growing up.  Zechariah, however, is ready to go.  He’s begging to go.  It’s time to go.  On Wednesday, he will go.  And I predict, I will cry.  A lot.  Because whether he is 6 or not, he’s my newest baby and he’s already so grown up.


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