Little one, time is moving so incredibly slowly lately. The minutes feel like months, the days like years and the weeks like decades. We’re so close to getting word on the home study, and yet it feels so very far away.
Part of me feels like once we get the paperwork back is when our real search can begin. We can start putting our information up on parent profiling websites and start making more connections. But for now, it’s the calm before the storm. I should be reveling in these quiet moments, enjoying this time before the greatest journey of our lives launches into the ether. But I can’t, because I’m just too worked up and nervous and excited to get to you. I’ve waited for five years, and as much as I don’t want to wait anymore I know that the second they put you in our arms that this time won’t matter at all. It will melt away like a Salvador Dali clock, and all those tiny grains of sand that have been slowly pouring through this hourglass will seem more akin to a tablespoon versus the endless beach it feels like right now.
It’s odd to miss someone that you’ve yet to meet, but that is how I feel about you Lo. You’re the missing puzzle piece that will make our family picture complete, and we love you already. We haven’t met you, we don’t know what you’ll look like, we don’t know what color skin you’ll have, what color eyes, whether you’re a boy or a girl, whether you’ve got curly or straight hair. We don’t know if you’ll be into ballet, or football, or art, or none of the above. You’re a stranger to us now, sweet baby, but you’re so very not a stranger. You’re in our hearts growing each week. I can almost feel your presence in my soul, and I can feel that red thread connecting us all.
It was the same when I met your Dad. On our first date, the first time we looked eye to eye, I just knew in my heart we were meant to be together. It’s an other worldly feeling, a deja-vu that this is someone you’ve known before, or known forever. But you don’t, you’ve just met them. Even though we know nothing about you, we know you. We know that you’ll be our baby, our family, our red thread connection.It’s a connection I wish I could explain but the words fail me- they just don’t do it justice. I’m not sure if everyone experiences this kind of connection to other human beings, or if it is some weird super power your Dad and I have been blessed with. Either way, we don’t take it for granted.
Tomorrow we meet with our new adoption attorney. It’s a long drive to DC, but we look at it as a new adventure. We’re waking up early, driving to a new place and experiencing a new day together. That is what I love about our little family, Lo. Your Dad and I look at every day as a new adventure, one that we get the honor to experience together as a family unit. I hope you look at life the same way, sweet baby. Life is something to be savored, not wasted. The people that roam this earth looking at each morning as the same doll-drum day are not really living. Marking days off the calendar is not a life, Lo. Living every second of the day and experiencing new things- even if it is something small- that is what living means to us. I try to remind myself of that in this journey: to live every second of it, even the painful ones. These moments of anxiety and wait will just make the end result that much sweeter. I will never take a second of our lives with you for granted, because I’ve known pain. I’ve known nights where I’m lying awake until the wee hours of the morning wondering when you’ll be here. When you are here, I will remember those nights, and I will look at every moment that you’re in our lives as a gift, because it is. It’s a great two-way street we’ll have baby. We’re giving each other the gift of life. My God, that is a tremendous and beautiful thing.
It’s going to be the most beautiful thing we’ve ever experienced together. It will definitely be our best adventure yet.
I just can’t wait, Lo. Unfortunately though, I have to wait.
That is the hardest part.
Waiting for the big adventure,