My husband wrote a beautiful letter to conclude the Mother’s Day series here at Christian Adoption Consultants. I pray that it will be an encouragement to you today!
To the mother of my children,
I think back to the days before we were even married, as we dreamed of what our lives might look like. What we longed for together, what we prayed for as we shared our hearts; ever since you were a little girl you longed to be a mother. To have a family. Little babies to snuggle, tears to wipe dry, and to be the open arms that your children would run to – to be their safe space and source of unconditional love and security.
Our journey to becoming a family of four was not one of convention. While we were blessed with your pregnancy and birth of our son after many months of difficulty, a second child biologically just didn’t seem to be in God’s plan for us. The medical challenges and miscarriages were pointing us to something we had talked about even before our son was born. Adoption. Your heart was to be a mother, mine to be a father. There were so many question marks about what our family would look like, how we would navigate the uncertainties ahead, but there was always the constant of your love for that little child we had yet to meet. Your heart was in this 100%, I always knew that you would fight for our family.
As we got the call that our daughter was born, just days before a hurricane was to hit our little girl’s hometown, we hopped on a plane headfirst into a whirlwind of unknowns and anxieties. Was I nervous? Absolutely! But I was also completely at peace with it all as I knew that you and I, together by God’s calling, were put in that exact moment to be united with our little girl. Those days and weeks ahead would throw us right into the crucible, but as I saw you hold this precious baby girl with those tiny, soft, black curls atop her head for the first time, I knew that she was ours, and we were hers.
Every aspect of this was probably the antithesis of how you dreamed of motherhood as a little girl. How could it not be? It was her birth mother that had carried this tiny life in her belly for nine months, born in a state thousands of miles away from our families. Power was knocked out for a week from a hurricane, and while we cobbled together whatever hours of sleep that we could, our baby girl lay peacefully in the NICU completely unaware of the unconventional circumstances of her entry into this world. But that’s part of the beauty of it all. Amidst whatever chaos life has thrown our way, you are her constant. Her mommy.
Yours are the arms that she climbs into. Yours is the shadow that she spends her days being. She knows your smile and your laughter, your empathy and your compassion. It is in your imperfections she is learning the most important truths of what it means to be a mother. That its real and normal to make mistakes, that its wonderful to be silly and laugh at ourselves, that beauty is found in kitchen dance parties, stick figure smiley faces and painted pink toenails. That the smiles, hugs, and encouraging words will always far outweigh the tears and frustrations – but that those tears and frustrations will come. And when they do, that it is ok. That love can often be costly, sacrificial, and inopportune – but that it’s what we’re called to. That in some cases love is an active choice. And ultimately that it is out of this love we show for one another that life’s true joys will come.
This mother’s day, I want you to know that you are everything and more to me and our children. That our story is just that. Our story. That there is no standard, no perfect way to be a mom. That I see the way our children look at you and they adore you. As do I.