The truth is I miss my baby. The one on the other side of the world, the one I’ve never met, the one I don’t know when I’ll meet. There is no magic pill that makes this easy. Putting “adoptive” in front of “mother” in my title doesn’t mean I am suddenly immune from the ache of having my child so far away.
The truth is that I think about him when I wake up and when I go to sleep. I think about him when I’m rocking his big brother to sleep. I ache that I’m not the one putting him to sleep at night and at naptimes. I hurt that it isn’t my face he sees above him when he wakes up. I think about him when I walk through the store and see a baby around his age cooing or crying. The truth is I’ve now seen more of that baby than I’ve seen of the one I think of as my own.
Loving someone you’ve never met is possible. So possible. You can have an ache and a fire in your gut that is unlike anything you’ve experienced before. You can love this tiny thing more than you thought possible. And all the chants of “worth the wait” doesn’t make the wait easy. So you cling to faith. Faith that this dream of him having a family will become a reality.
The truth is I’m a world apart from the one I love. And that makes it hard to breathe sometimes. But it’s not death I fear the most for him, though that thought makes me ache. It’s what else is out there waiting for him if neither heaven or a family become a reality. I want him to have a family, it doesn’t have to be mine. But dear God, please let him have a family.