My heart can hardly handle that you're a year old.
As I selected the image above, I spent a moment soaking in its pure sweetness as tears steeped and my soul sat in suspension. That moment captured up there? It is in my top three moments of life. Documented to cherish for the rest of my life. In these first few moments of meeting you, my soul saw you and it sort of went, "Oh, there you are."
I sure wish I was present at your birth. I never expected grieving that loss so deeply. Your First Mama and I have shared that wish with one another, both wishing I could have been present as the boy we love dearly breathed oxygen for the first time.
I've been thinking about this day a lot: your first birthday. Thinking about all of the things I want to write down, about all of the ways I have been changed, blessed by, sanctified through motherhood. Through mothering you.
But Oh my boy, the tears won't stop and I can hardly see the screen. The tears sting gratitude. The gratitude bubbling up thick in my throat pricks pain in my heart because it is at the extreme expense of your First Mama's heart. My great gain, my blessed privilege, my unending joy of being your mama goes hand in hand with her grief, loss, and painfully choosing to place you into another mamas arms. That privilege and tragedy does not escape me.
The selfish part of me has never been so thankful for brokenness, because adoption is only born out of brokenness. And without adoption, we would be without you.
Son, I love you. You made me an official mama. You stole my heart before I knew you existed.
You are the answer to so many on-my-face prayers, making the weighty wait worth it. You are an undeserved gift I know we don't deserve, but we are gobbling up the goodness and graciousness of you anyways, to the full extent and as much as possible. Cherishing, celebrating, clinging to the moments as they come and pass because we know this life is fleeting. We know our time with you under our roof as our baby is already rapidly passing by and I don't want to waste a moment of our fleeting-time. One never knows how brief or lengthy their life on earth will be, so I am doing my best to savor.
From day one, you invited your dad and I to increase our faith, to believe He is bigger than we give Him credit, to trust He moves in impossible ways. You solidified our belief that love, even without the tie of blood and DNA, truly does make a family. You invited us into a deeper understanding of Him. You move us closer to Him.
Sage, I hope you always remember how much fun we are having as a family. I hope when you're older, you reminisce a childhood filled to the brim with laughter, adventure, gratitude. As the years unfold, I hope we hold onto the deliciousness of delight, the amusement of adventure, the joy of the journey.
I hope we teach you to feel, even if feeling is uncomfortable and even pain filled, but feeling is what sets us free and offers fullness. There is no fullness to life if we choose not to feel.
I hope we are approachable when it comes to talking about adoption and race, even when your heart hurts deeply.
I hope quite a few more things for you and your life:
I hope you remember me being as happy as I feel.
I hope you learn about Jesus not just because we tell you about Him and take you to church, but because we live and love like Him.
I hope you are confident in yourself and your story, not because of yourself, but because He believes in you.
I hope you believe to your core that He makes good things and He made you.
I hope you are kind to people, you see people, and that you love bigger than comprehend-able.
I hope you love big because you know you are loved big.
As you leave behind the title of "baby" and move into the title of "toddler," I anticipate chaos. Hilarity and crazy and laughter and more coffee.
This came too soon, your first birthday. But here we are, peering into the second year of us. I'm convinced there will be many more memories made and adventures ventured.
We love you more than life, son. Happy First Birthday,
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