I’ve read it over and over. It may be the best piece of paper I’ve seen. It says his full name. It talks about us adopting him. It’s beautiful.
It was the end of Sept. in 2006 when he entered the world. I wonder what I was doing that day. I stare at the date and try to remember anything significant that stands out about it. Did I somehow know, that he entered the world that day? Did his birthmother cry with joy and wonder when she saw him? Did she kiss all over him and tell him how amazing he was? Did she snuggle him close to her and comfort him when he cried in those 10 days that she mothered him?
My heart hurts for all of the moments we have lost. I was across the ocean when he got his first tooth, when he took his first steps, and when he spoke his first words. I am greedy to reclaim all the milestones yet to come. I find myself praying that none of his teeth fall out just yet, because I want to be the tooth fairy. Justin and I pray everyday that we are able to bring him home so his next birthday cake is here, with us. I hope that we get to teach him how to ride a bike. I hope that Justin gets to be the first person to take him fishing.
Five and a half years is a long time to wait for a mommy to kiss you. Five and a half years is a long time to wait for a daddy to teach you to play ball. Five and a half years is a long time to wait for brothers to be your best friends. Five and half years is a long time to wait for a little sister to look up to you. Five and a half years is a long time to wait for a home of your very own, for your own dog to love you through thick and thin, for a toothbrush to hang next to your brothers and sister’s. Five and a half years is a long time to wait to make cookies with your mommy. Five and a half years is a long time to wait to say bedtime prayers with your family. Five and a half years is a long time to wait to hear you mommy and daddy and brothers and sister singing “Happy Birthday to you!”. Five and a half years is a long time to have to wait to belong.
I know in those moments that we were absent, HE was present. When we found out about this new little one, we decided to give him the middle name John. We have a special friend at church. He is a WWII veteran. We love him dearly. He fought in the Philippines in the war. It was a hard time for him. We wanted to give our son his name to honor him, and as a reminder to all of us that HE makes all things new. His name is John. It was a perfect name. A name that means “God is gracious”. It is a good name. It was the right name for our new one. We agreed. When I recieved the email with his full name on it, I found myself wiping away tears that continued to spill down my cheeks. His middle name? JOHN. HE already knew.
Hang in there, little buddy! The waiting is almost over! We are coming!