This time last year I was busy preparing our home for your arrival. I spent hours washing your blankets, and tiny clothes; organizing them in your new drawers. I packed our suitcases, and nervously made about 100 lists. I deep cleaned our home. Every nook and cranny was spotless.
I also spent a lot of time on the couch, wrapped under cozy blankets, nervous and so very anxious, eating bag after bag of Lindt Lindor Chocolate. How I lost 20 lbs I will never know!
The time was moving ever so slowly as winter said goodbye and evidence of spring was everywhere. I prayed over your ultrasound picture, and memorized your sweet little profile. I thought of your “S” often. Wondered how she was feeling, eagerly waiting for another phone call from her just so I could hear her voice. Every time the phone rang my heart leaped out of my chest. So much anticipation. So much worry. So much unknown. So many empty and discarded chocolate wrappers.
I dreamt of you. I wondered what you would look like. How you would smell. How your tiny body would feel in my arms.
I wondered if you ever really were going to be mine? My daughter. Or if my purpose was just to love you and “S” deeply and be in your lives for a short time. It’s such a strange feeling expecting a child that is not yours, not promised to you, thousands of miles away. It’s strange to be preparing a home for a child that may never come home to you. I knew though, that no matter the outcome, I never would regret loving “S”, or you.
He said, “To love deeply, to take care of my little lambs.”
We didn’t hold back. Not one bit.
Now here we are. A year later. You are home.
I told her, “I will always love your girl” , with tears streaming down my face. I meant those words. She knew that I meant them too.
I know you.
Your skin is the most beautiful color, soft and delicious. You smell like coconut and wild flowers. Your eyes are the deepest brown, and I swear when you look at me, you are looking straight into my very core. You pull your ear, and suck your thumb when you are sleepy. You tuck your head under my chin, and “Mmmm” in quiet satisfaction.
You are quiet and content, most of the time. Yet, you aren’t afraid to let your voice be heard when you want it to be heard.
I can tell when the day gets too overwhelming and you just need a moment to hide and be still in my arms. I know when you need space. I know when you need connection.
You have a wild side and love to be chased and tickled. You squeal with delight and lose your breath from laughter. You love to dance and groove to music, especially to jazz and classical. You love it when I sing to you even though I am tone-deaf. You don’t care, you just love to hear my voice.
You crawl to me to pick you up, arms high in the air, as if it’s been days since you’ve seen me last, even though I just put you down, and never walked from the room.
In the middle of the night, I hear you call “Mamama”. The first time you called for me , I couldn’t get to you fast enough. My heart stopped as I stood in the darkened hallway and listened.
I am your Mama.
In the pitch dark you reach out, not being able to see me, but fully believing and trusting that I am about to come.
You know I will always come.
I will always be there.
I will always pick you up.
I will always love you.
It’s one thing knowing that you are mine to love. My daughter. My heart. You are my dream come true.
But it is completely another thing when I realized that you knew that I was yours to love.
It blows me away that you know that I am your Mama. And that you call me by name.