Dear adoptive mama,

I see you staring at me from your place behind the morning buffet line.

Exhausted. Defeated. Covered in pork dumplings your child has rejected and thrown at you because his world is in chaos and he is in total, absolute freefall.

Feeling spent and broken after three more meltdowns, two more struggling-to-communicate temper tantrums and an entire afternoon of grief.

Worried sick about the medical challenges that looked so much easier seven months ago on paper and are now demanding more energy, time and care than you think you might be able to muster.

Wondering to yourself, What on earth have I just done?

I see you looking longingly at this tiny boy who became ours just six days ago — the one who this morning is so happy and delightful that he is kissing each of our cheeks and calling us by name and saying, “Xie xie,” each time we hand him a new food.

The one who, on this morning, looks like he’s already this fantastically-adjusted part of the team.

And I see the wheels of your mind turning, wondering what you must be doing wrong.

But sweet adoptive mama, we’re in the trenches, too.