Friends, it’s been too long. When we brought our sweet boy home in July, I was determined to soak up every moment. We had waited for so long for our precious baby that I didn’t want to miss a thing. For me, soaking up those early days meant giving myself permission to simply live each day, instead of write about them. I wanted to experience the highs and the lows without feeling the need to chronicle each moment. So the past eight months aren’t written in a journal or a blog—instead, they’re emblazoned on my heart, where I will treasure them always.
I have to say, in the days leading up to our baby boy’s homecoming, I was filled with fear. You see, we knew about sweet Crew, but we didn’t know if he’d be ours—if we’d get to call him our son. Daily, even hourly, I was on my knees praying, “Lord, I’ve never met this precious baby—I don’t even know what he looks like—but already love him madly and deeply. Would You allow us to bring him into our family? Would You entrust him to our care as we raise him up to know and follow You?”
And I’d rise to my feet again, unable to stop the tears from forming two perpetual rivers down my cheeks. What if his birthparents don’t choose us? What if they do, but we fail as parents? What if the wait has made me bitter, and I can’t find joy in motherhood?
That last one scared me the most. I have a cynical bent by nature. And, while this journey of mine has brought me closer to the Lord, it’s also made it harder for me to find joy in the little things. (Something I know the Lord is working on in me….)
But, by God’s grace, when we got the call and finally heard these words “I’m so happy to share that the birthparents have chosen you!” we felt joy. Unspeakable joy. And the very next day, when Crew’s birthparents rounded the corner, holding him in their arms, I thought my heart would burst with happiness.
The pain of the wait melted away—it vanished. And in its place was peace. This is why we had to wait. We were waiting for you. The Lord wanted to shape us into parents who would point you back to Him, sweet Crew. All those years, you weren’t ready for us yet—and we weren’t ready for you. But here we are—in God’s perfect timing. We’re a family.
I look back at these past eight months, and I’m just in awe. What a good God we serve, friends. He is just so faithful. He has given me love I didn’t know was possible for my son. This love, it makes getting up early a joy (most days) because I’m greeted with this sweet face.
This love, it makes you laugh at the craziness of motherhood. You spit up all over your pants? No worries, little man. Mama loves seeing those chunky baby thighs.
This love, it makes you breathe in those quiet moments—willing yourself to remember the way his tiny body feels in your arms.
This love, it makes you celebrate the milestones—discovering the world anew through your baby’s eyes.
This love, it changes you—forever.
And this love, it’s just a glimpse, a tiny glimmer of the love our Savior has for us. He delights in us. He calls us His own.
I had a hunch when I was writing from the valleys of our struggle to adopt, that one day I’d look back at those years and they wouldn’t hurt quite so bad. I knew I’d be able to see God’s glory shining through the cracks of my broken dreams as He fashioned them into something far more beautiful. But, friends, I had no idea. I could not have imagined the indescribable beauty and sheer joy He would bring.
“You have turned my mourning into dancing; you have taken off my sackcloth and clothed me with joy, so that my soul may praise you and not be silent. O Lord my God, I will give thanks to you forever.” —Psalm 30:11–12