Birth mom...

The weather today is a total gift.  I think I am enjoying it even more because I know that we will leave 80 degrees over the next few hours and crash back into Winter.  Everything about today gives me hope.  I think I know what perennial flowers feel like as they poke their little heads through the soil in anticipation of the sun's warmth.  I'm convinced the breeze is actually singing to me as it travels across my skin.  "The wait is almost over.  The death of winter is slowly making his exit." it says to me.  There is a physical ache to see the bare trees covered with leaves, to see the grass lush and green.  I can't wait to hear laughter and splashing as neighborhood children play in pools.  I want barbecues, park play dates, and water gun fights.  I WANT SUMMER!

But I need to slow down.  I need to treasure today.

I walked upstairs this afternoon to wake my daughter from her nap.  She was on my bed and she looked so sweet and peaceful.

I couldn't bring myself to wake her yet.  So I sat beside her on the bed and allowed my mind to drift across the ocean and settle on her birth mom.

So much has changed in the three years since this baby was left near a cornfield.  I wish I could telepathically send a message to the woman that carried this sweet girl for nine months.  I would have so much to tell her about the daughter that binds us together.  I wonder if Es was a thumb sucker at birth.  Three years later, this is something that has not changed.  She has a callous on her thumb where she has worn out the skin with her tongue.  The birth mark on her arm that was so bright at birth has all but faded away.  The scar on her back is a reminder that modern medicine saved her life.

Her blanket (that she calls bc since she can't pronounce blankie) is with her everywhere she goes.
She is loving and she is brave.  She likes pink nail polish and blue superhero shirts.  Pockets are a requirement for pants (she needs a place to put her sword).

She has four energetic and funny brothers that love her like crazy.  She has a daddy that is teaching her every day what it looks like to be cared for.  He plays pirates and ponies with her.  She snuggles up on his lap to watch basketball.  She is incredibly smart and irresistibly cute.  She has a fantastic sense of humor and she is compassionate.
But more than anything, I wish I could look into the eyes that are a reflection of my daughter's.  I wish I could hold her hand and let her know that the details don't consume me.  I will never know this woman.  And I will never know why she gave Es up.  Instead, I would tell her, with tears streaming down my face, that this little girl owns my heart.  She has captured it completely and I love her more than my own life.  I will love her, hold her, fight for her, and raise her to be proud of her first home and the people that gave her life.

Someday Es will look to me for answers to questions that I can't begin to explain.  But I pray that when that time comes, her heart will be whole and she will understand how completely loved she is.  My prayer is also for her birth mom.  I pray that somehow she will know that this child is alive and thriving in a home where she is treasured.  And I pray for the healing that must take place in her soul as well.  We are, after all, bonded for life by this beautiful and amazing little person.