this year there will be no “next year…”

This year there won’t be a picture frame on our Thanksgiving table of the family member who’s missing. This year there won’t be presents labeled for babies that aren’t ‘home’. This year every moment won’t be filled with dreams of “next year…”

This year we’re together.

I write that and I feel a chill go through me. It seems unreal. This time last year I held serious doubts that little Baby K would ever be coming home. I waited for news on his health and news on his adoption paperwork. And now, now there is nothing but snuggles and kisses. (Also diapers and feeding and rocking and picking up of endless messes.)


But for so many of my friends they still have someone missing. Someone who is on the other side of the world, or on the other side of eternity. Some will be united here, some will never be until heaven. I think too of my children’s other families. Loss.

So it hardly seems fair that our little family of four is together does it? But we are. And I have to rejoice in that. I want to rejoice in that. I want to hug the fact to my heart and do a happy dance with it.

And still there is a tiny part of me that aches for our first little guy. The one who didn’t make it. The one whose last days I’ll never know about, never get answers for. And I know, I do know that if he was here then Thane wouldn’t be. And more than likely we never would have been matched with Tal either. I also know that heaven is a beautiful place for him, that it won’t be full of pain for his little hurt body but will be a place where he can dance and sing and be at peace.


He was never ours, that little guy. He was going to be, but he wasn’t. That’s the hard thing with adoption. You fall in love with them but have to keep at the forefront of your mind that they might not ever be in your family. And so you wish for a family for them. And you hope it might be yours. But mostly you hope for peace and love for them. And I believe he has that now. I have to believe that.


And so we are four. A family of four. So much smaller than I envisioned when I was younger. And yet perfect. Us. And this year, this year we’re together. That’s something so worth celebrating. That’s something to soak in and roll around in and throw up in the air to rain down in a confetti parade.


Because this year the waiting is over.


Super Skeleton & Funny Bones

I keep having these flashes of awareness. Where suddenly I’m acutely present to the fact that I’m a mother. Of two little boys. Who I adore. I was the big sister, the auntie, the friend of mommy for so long that it seem unreal that now I hold the mother title.

One of those flashes came while I sewed their capes to wear to the party at Daddy’s work. Sewing last minute of course. Tal sitting on my lap and Thane watching the machine from the chair next to me, it hit me again: I’m a mom.

And I know I’m not their only mama, but I’m sure lucky I get to be one of them. It’s an honor I don’t take lightly.

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