October 10, 2012
Tonight I am sitting at the little coffee shop in our neighborhood. The leaves are starting to fall and the air is getting cooler. I am snuggled up in a big chair outside under twinkle lights with a warm coffee and I am supposed to be doing homework but I am only thinking of you, my little one. Always, I am thinking of you.
This morning I put on my hoodie for the first time this season and instead of fully relishing the coming of my favorite time of year, all I could think about was how I thought you would be with us by autumn. I thought we would be holding you by now. I thought we would be getting you bundled up in your little jacket and putting socks on your little feet. I thought there would be five of us snuggling in our bed this morning, laughing and being silly and not wanting to get up and start the day. Instead, I am marking two years since we set out to find you and bring you home.
I wonder about you. I wonder what your little hands are going to look like or if you have sweet chubby cheeks. I wonder what you will smell like. I wonder how it will feel when you look me in the eyes, or when you call me “mommy”. I also think about what it will do to my heart if you ever feel sad or lonely or lost, things that may very well come our way. But when you are lost, a part of me will feel lost, my love. When you feel alone, so will a little piece of me. And that is how you will know that you are never facing it all by yourself, because your mommy has been facing it with you before she even saw your face. Because for every moment you have felt unwanted, I have spent one wanting you more than anything else in this world.
These two years, I’ve watched your beautiful brothers grow and change and I’ve watched your beautiful cousins be born and families grow all around us. I can’t imagine your face, so I just think about your weight in my arms. I think about the sound of you laughing.
Tonight, I wonder where you are, my little sweetie. I wonder if you feel afraid or if you had hugs and kisses before you went to bed. I wonder if anyone reads books to you or rubs your back or plays with your hair or sings you songs. I think about things. Like if you have a night light in your room. Are you afraid in the dark? Are your jammies warm enough tonight, with the cooler weather? Is your tummy nice and full? Are you crying? Are you dreaming? Are you curled up in a little ball, fast asleep?
I wonder if you somehow know that I’m thinking about you, as you lay there in the dark, looking around, in the quiet. Maybe somehow, some way, you know that your mommy is thinking about you right now, and you have peace, but I don’t really know.
I plead with God and ask him to keep you safe, to protect your tiny, tender heart when I cannot be there to do it. I ask Him to surround you and sing you songs and be near to you when you are scared. I beg Him to guard your mind from anything that might hurt you or confuse you or plant seeds of anger deep down inside of you. I am waiting every day. I am waiting every moment, for my phone to ring. I am hoping every hour that you are about to come home to me so that I can tell you over and over and over again the thing that I’ve said to you in my heart a thousand times.
I love you, baby. I love you so much.
And even though I’ve never seen you and I don’t know your name and I don’t know when I will get to finally snuggle with you, I can wait for as long as it takes. Even when I feel like I can’t, I can wait until God opens the door and makes a way for you to come home. Until then, I’ll sing you my own songs and think about you being in the back seat when I’m driving, and about eating pancakes with you on Saturday mornings, and about watching you sleep that deep kind of sleep, the one that tells me that you know you are safe.
Night night, my little love.
Your Forever Mommy
Photo provided by Adrienne, for the time being Adrienne is not posting Finley’s photo online.