A year ago two pictures changed my life. Two pictures of a sleeping baby boy with a head full of curls and the sweetest lips in existence.
Adoption is an imperfect answer to an impossible question. I happen to wish that all Babies could be raised by their first mothers & fathers, the people who brought them into this world, the people whose blood history they share. But we don’t live in a world where “shoulds” always happen. Life is messy and painful, life includes loss and heartache. And so adoption exists.
And make no mistake I believe adoption is absolutely beautiful. I believe my family, built on adoption, is beautiful. It is the family I always wanted. It is the only family I wanted. But I am very aware that I am the one in this adoption triad (the first parents, the child, the adoptive parents) who suffered the least loss to get to this place, to be part of this family. I am “the lucky” one.
Life is a broken hallelujah. And like I wrote here, my heart is still singing.