Wondering

Sometimes people wonder about me. About my family.

They wonder why a couple would have chosen to adopt a biracial child when they could've had another of their own.

They wonder why a family who already had two children that looked (more or less) exactly like them would adopt yet another child.

They wonder why we would want a child whose skin didn't look like ours.

They wonder why we would want a child with Down syndrome, when we weren't obligated to take him.

They wonder why we would adopt another child with Down syndrome when we already have one as a burden.

Family. That's the real answer to all that wondering.

Jace is my brother. I don't care that he's adopted; that doesn't matter at all. He's my brother and he always will be.

Levi is my brother, my baby, my Little Man. I would protect him with my life. Because he's my brother. Why should it matter that his skin is different, that he doesn't think the same way? That doesn't make him any less a part of our family.

I've had people ask me if we would ever stop pursuing Evan.

No, never, not in a million years. If it took me all my life, working day and night to earn the money, that girl would come home. Because Evan is my sister. No, I've never met her. I've never heard her voice. I've never held her. I've only ever seen one picture of her. But she is my sister. There is a bond between us. Already, I can tell. God put it there. Every time I think about her (which is quite often) I feel like there's a hole in my heart. Because that's where Evan belongs. She has a place there now.

We get lots of stares in restaurants because of Levi. We've had people ask us if he's our baby. We've even had people racially discriminate against him to our faces. But you know what we don't think when that stuff happens? That Levi is a burden. That we only adopted him because we felt sorry for him.

No. We adopted him and Jace, and soon Evan because we love them so much our hearts feel like they could burst. They are family.

Jace is my brother. Not my adopted brother. Not my biracial brother. My brother.

Levi is my brother. Not my adopted brother. Not my African American brother. Not my brother with Down syndrome. My brother.

And Evan is my sister. Not my adopted sister. Not my sister from Russia. Not my sister with Down syndrome. My sister.

Family. Forever.