Well, I’ve had the “It’s a Girl” banner up for three and a half months now. In two days it will be a solid year since we started this journey to find and meet you. In a way it all feels so unreal now. The paperwork was turned in some time ago, then fixed and turned in again; we made your room move-in-ready and I have a bag full of paint cards for you to go through to decide what color would make it truly your room; and I have way too many party ideas to go through with you for any party you want to have. Well, one has to be a glow in the dark party because, um, it’s glow in the dark and I really want to be at that kind of party for the first time in my own life. *laugh*
I opened the door to your room and find that it’s getting harder to imagine having my own daughter in there. Clothes and knickknacks strewn about, papers on your desk, and you laying on the bed fast asleep with your tablet still in your hand. Abby will probably be curled up with you, since she dashes into your room the moment the door is cracked open and jumps up on the bed to see what’s going on.
What kind of music will I hear playing on your echo? Will you tell me who your latest crush is or which school subject you think is so lame? Will there be enough time for us to help you believe in love; enough time to help you truly believe that you have been wanted for a long time and although you’ll be our chosen child, you will never be replaceable?
We were so ready and excited to have you come into our lives. Right now it feels like we put our wishes and dreams into a bottle and it’s just floating around in the ocean, bobbing along with the current. It’s getting hard to believe that our bottle will ever make it. Sometimes my faith in the process is difficult to cling to and I lose my way. Then I see an ad for prom dresses or some commercial of a daughter hugging her mom right before she walks down the aisle, and I have this little flare of hope that we will someday have these moments together. I’m trying hard to keep that hope alive despite the delays.
We wanted to make sure to find, meet, and start visitations before school ends this semester, so that you can have the summer with us to adjust to your new life and hopefully work through the trauma of change, leading to some attachment before the new school year starts. School is stressful enough; I don’t want to make this harder for you, even though there’s a part of me that is completely selfish and doesn’t want to think about anything beyond moving you in as soon as we possibly can regardless of when it is. I’m not sure if there will be enough time to have the ideal plan play out. Although I hope we know that it’s you as soon as we see your profile, I know that it’s not likely. The likelihood that you’re the first child we proceed to the BIS for is nearly nonexistent. I’d fill out every scrap of the mountain of paperwork again if it’d help us get past the delay and resume our journey.
I pray for you every night. I hope you’re happy and safe; I hope that some tiny part of your heart can believe that we are waiting for the chance to find you. We just need that chance – we promise to not stop until you are home. We will spend the rest of our lives loving you, no matter how hard it is for you to believe. No matter how hard this journey is. And I’m putting this out in the world so that you will someday have proof that you are worth every moment, every fear, and every tear. You’re worth dreaming about and waiting for.