I can close my eyes and see the first image of her.  It was a photograph sent with paperwork, per our request.  We were so timid, as our process had dissolved twice already with two other birth moms.  We did not want to ask for a picture, but we needed proof.  At her mercy, we walked a tightrope between pushing too far and being pushed away.  Would this one, too, fall through?  Is she a real pregnant person or another one pretending to be pregnant for the sake of stealing some cash?  Unlike before, we were guarded.  We were cautious.  But we were still hopeful.

Did she know?

We cautiously opened the envelope.  Inside we found pages of her medical history.  “It feels real this time,” I thought aloud.  Please, Lord, let it be real.  As we turned the pages, folding one around the staple at a time, we arrived.  There she was.  Pregnant and seated in what looked to be like a waiting room.  Her sweet smile and bright eyes stared into the camera and right at us through the photograph.   I felt like I was looking at a photo of a relative.  We have a familiar appearance, as if we were cousins.  Not alike, but similar.

Without thought, I exhaled.  She was real.  She was pregnant.  She was considering us. 

Today is the anniversary of the day that we finalized this adoption.  A culmination of years, hoping that we would become a family of four, punctuated in the sweet sound of a bell.  At a convention center in upstate New York, flanked by other adoptive families, “big brother” rang in the completion of our singular finalization.  

Did she know?

His birth was seven months prior to the bell.  Her choosing our family came only two months before his birth.  In a twist of irony, our journey to him lasted the same amount of time as one would be pregnant.  Having had a biological child, the time frame was not lost on me.

Does she know that I think of her?

Does she know the immense level of gratitude I feel for her?

Does she know how terrifying it was?

Does she know how I prayed for her not to change her mind?

Does she know how much she reminded me of my younger self?

He seldom asks about her. But when he does, I respect his curiosity.  I remain vague, unearthing a little more each time the older he gets.  I try to be sensitive to his understanding with each level of maturity in his life.  I love our story.  I am humbled at how he became ours, and forever grateful that we were chosen for one another.  The Lord shone upon us; He united us.  For that, I remain humbly amazed.

Does she know that her act of choice gave me a blessing?  Does she know that her act of choice gave our firstborn a brother to share life with?  Does she know what her own journey means to us?

Does she know how I panicked?  Did I play it cool enough when I slowly opened the giant labor and delivery door to find him in her arms?  What did she think of me?  Does she know how nervous I was?  It was 3:00 in the morning, yet I felt wide awake in that moment.

I had given birth to a beautiful boy almost five years earlier.  I was that mom holding a newborn boy.  In that first moment of meeting her, I was emersed in a whirlpool of joy in receiving and guilt in taking.  Did she know?

Did she know that, for the next week in the hospital, I would pray for time?  Did she know that my fear grew with each passing day in which he was not “given” over to us?   Did she know that the thought of her changing her mind crushed my soul?

Did she know that every…single…time I left the hospital without him made me buckle?  Did she know that explaining it to my five-year-old over and over and over was, in fact, an explanation to myself?

Does she know I that know she wore a yellow dress on the day she was released from the hospital?  Does she know that the overwhelming relief I felt to hold our son was wrapped in love for her?…How I thought of her as I, too, was wheeled out of the hospital per policy with a newborn?… How the day she had decided to let him go was the same exact day that I was diagnosed with cancer five years earlier? 

Does she know how I cherish the moments we spent together during that month?  How I vividly imagine sharing this child with her family as they all began to let go?  Does she know that my fears turned into feelings of friendship with her?   Does she know how much that time is bonded in my soul as a transition for her?

As we visited her apartment later that month, does she know how I smiled at seeing the same posters on her walls as mine when I was in college?

Does she know that I think of her?  That I pray for her?   That I am thankful for her?

Does she know that every year, on this day of finalization, I think of her?  That I wonder about her?  That I worry about her?

November is National Adoption Awareness month.  November is also Thanksgiving.  Does she know that this time of year, as the leaves fall, I am contemplative of this time in our lives?

Does she know that this month brings gratitude in a form only some can imagine?

Does she know how much her place in our story means to me?

“Whoever receives one such child in my name receives me.”

     Matthew 18:5

“He predestined us for adoption as sons through Jesus Christ, according to the purpose of his will.”

     Ephesians 1:5

#holykitt#blogginforchrist#jesus#adoption#bookofmatthew#ephesians#doessheknow#nationaladoptionmonth#nationaladoptionday#nationaladoptionawarenessmonth#spotthecross