Tomorrow my sweet little girl turns three and while I’m full of emotions just typing that one statement, I can’t help but allow myself to think back to this night three years ago, the night before her very first ever birthday.
It was a Monday. There was nothing really notable about March 28th, 2011 other then the fact that it was the last day that we were just a husband and a wife, the last day before we became a mama and a daddy. On Friday of the previous week Sam* had asked her doctor for an induction date during her spring break to minimize the amount of school she’d miss, and her doctor agreed. We knew that Tuesday, March 29th our daughter would be born (unless she decided to enter the world sooner).
A & I both worked Monday as we typically would. It was his first day in his new office building and subsequently one of the last 30ish days he’d ever worked for that company (though we didn’t know that at the time). I had a very busy day full of preparing for my upcoming leave. It was a hard preparation though, while some people knew of my impending leave, not everyone did. I kept it that way…just in case. Really, this was the tone for the entire day, I’d catch myself getting very excited about the fact that in just a matter of hours I’d be a mama before having to reign in my excitement…just in case.
After work A & I took Sam out to a carb loaded dinner so she would have her strength and we presented her with a couple of tokens of our love and gratitude. We took her home, we came home, and we sat. I remember sitting at the top of the stair case with Aaron that night thinking, “This is it, either our house will never be this quiet again or it will be all too quiet for a very long time.” With adoption, there are no guarantees. I mean, to be honest we didn’t even know what ethnicity our daughter would be having thought we’d never met her birth father. We felt Sam* was steadfast in her decision, but we couldn’t be for sure and our hearts were guarded because of it.
We packed our bags, not wanting to be too confident that 1) we’d have a baby to stay with and 2) we’d have a hospital room to sleep in with said baby, loaded our electronics, and placed E’s car seat and baby bag in the car. I remember hearing the snap of the infant carrier into the car seat base and thinking to myself I was only making a one-way trip with an empty car seat, it was either coming home with a baby, or it was staying at the hospital.
And then we prayed, reverently. I prayed until sleep and my soul finally met. I prayed for Sam that she’d be given peace in her decision and that whatever her decision may be, that she would make it confidently. I prayed for the sweet baby girl in her womb, my sweet E, that she would enter into a world full of love in good health and without stress to her delicate little body. I prayed for the hospital staff, that they’d accept all of us for our situation and see the beauty in our uniqueness. I prayed for the medical staff overseeing Sam* and E, that they’d make all decisions with their best interest in mind.
I prayed for our hearts. I prayed that we’d have the strength to endure the next few days of uncertainly, that we’d have the courage to love this little girl with our entire hearts placing all faith in The Lord that He would not forsake us, I actually literally prayed the words, “My God, please do not forsake me. My God, please do not forsake me” over and over until I drifted into a place somewhere between being asleep and awake.
And as you all know, my God did not forsake me.