Dear Baby S,
Your Dad and I have been struggling because we still haven’t heard any news on this one approval we need before travel preparations are made for you. It feels like we will never have you, and the other day, in a moment of intense pain over this long wait I realized:
To some degree, this must be what labor feels like.
The pain in my heart was so great that I wanted to scream – “Where is my baby girl, the one I have waited for??”
I know that it is a different sort of pain from what many mothers feel when the baby in their womb is almost ready to enter this world; but it is intense, unwanted but necessary, pain nonetheless.
I am expectantly waiting for you, my little love.
As I pondered this realization and sought to relieve the pain I was feeling, I grieved for the part of your story that I will never get to tell you because I was not there.
I was not there to welcome you into my arms, into this place, into our family.
I do not know what she felt when her labor started, when she knew it was time to give birth to you.
That part of your story, my little, is known by the One who crafted you in His image, as He shaped you inside the womb of the woman who welcomed you into this world. Someday, I pray you will know that part of your story.
But snuggle close, and I will tell you the part of your story “where your page met mine”. Listen, listen, my sweet little…
I saw your picture and knew that you were meant for me. Your dad and I marveled over your smooth, dark chocolate skin. We looked at you in wide wonder over your perfect, round eyes and your sweet little nose. We wondered what it will be like to hug you and hold you in our arms, to kiss your soft cheeks and hold your beautiful face to ours while we tell you how much we love you. I saw you and knew that you were meant to be part of our family.
We went straight to work over the papers that would tell the authorities in India that WE WANT YOU.
Oh, how we want you, my little S.
We signed the documents, notarized, apostilled and sent them in as soon as we possibly could.
We were, and are, so anxious to meet you!
And then we waited. We waited, and waited, and waited some more. We waited for months that felt like eternity, and then on Memorial Day weekend, we received another picture of you. And you were smiling.
We shed big, happy tears over you, my girl.
Your smile is so beautiful. You are so beautiful.
And then we heard nothing. Nothing. For months, we have waited to hear about this next approval, and we are waiting still.
And I am in pain over this wait for you, my darling. I am physically in pain over the anticipation of your arrival.
But it is a good and right pain, the kind of pain that all mothers feel right before their babes are welcomed into their family!
It is a pain that motivates them to push and push harder, even if it feels like their baby will never come.
Instead of pushing, I am waiting. I will wait some more.
Because one day, you will be here. Your dad and I will celebrate your homecoming, and we will greet you with open arms. We will snuggle you close and tell you your story, the part where “your page met mine”.
I can’t wait to meet you, my little girl.
This is the start of our sweet little story, the part where your page meets mine. No matter where our tale takes us tomorrow, our story will always read LOVE. -Anonymous