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To My Adopted Children

I didn’t get two pink lines.  I didn’t get to see you as a little peanut on the ultrasound screen or hear your tiny heartbeat.  I didn’t get to make a big announcement or have a big gender reveal party.  I didn’t get to carry you in my belly for nine months and feel you move and hiccup.  I don’t have a labor and delivery story, or a sweet photo of you lying on my chest right after you were born.  I’ll never know what you sounded like or looked like the moment you entered the world.  And to be honest, I have mourned those missed moments.  Sometimes I have questioned why God didn’t allow me to experience those things with you.

But He gave me other things.  I remember the emails and phone calls that ultimately led you to being placed with us.  I’ll never forget the butterflies in my stomach as I waited for the social worker to bring you to our house.  I’ll never forget the way your big brown eyes stared at me as I got you out of your car seat.  We also got things that weren’t so exciting…court dates and visits with birth parents and a long, long adoption process that felt like it would never end.  But even amid that, we had wonderful social workers and fellow foster parents who were a great encouragement and support to us.  I got to celebrate big milestones with you and watch you blossom and grow and  learn.  I’ve watched you bond with your siblings, steal the hearts of your grandparents, and become a part of our family as if you were here from the start.

I’ll always wonder about the time you spent with another family before you entered our lives.  But I also know that God’s timing is perfect and that there was a reason for that delay.  One day, I hope you truly understand what it means to be adopted and how special it is.  You didn’t grow in my belly, but the idea of you was growing in my heart long before you were even born.  God used another womb to bring you into the world, but you were ours from the very beginning.

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