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09-30-2001 @ 11:55 p.m.
Reflections

Joey is eight years old today. It was almost anticlimactic because we've been celebrating it for a week now but it was still cool the first time we said she was eight. It certainly is hard to believe my baby is only 5 years away from teenagerhood. The last five years (the time since we have moved into this house) have positively flown by so I expect the next 5 will fly by as scarily fast. I'm not sure I'm quite ready for that.

Eight years ago on this day, I didn't yet know that Joey was born or that she was a girl. We didn't find out about her birth until October 1. On this day, I was about as stressed out as I thought I could get (but I managed to be even more stressed the next day, awaiting word of her arrival). I worked late in an effort to finish up my project to a point where I could easily pass it off to another writer when I went on maternity leave. I remember driving home around 11pm and they were resurfacing Hwy 217 between 11pm and 7am so it took me a very long time to get home. When I got home, I wandered through my nursery gently fingering the washed and folded onesies and the lively crib set I had chosen for her. Ed and I weren't sure when she would be coming home, though we were praying it wouldn't be too much longer.

I remember praying very earnestly those weeks when we were waiting for news of her birth. Every night and every morning, we would kneel together at our bedside and ask for comfort for us and for her birthmother. We asked God to bless her with the strength she would need to follow through with her adoption plan. We prayed for strength to handle any possible disappointment that we might have to endure. We prayed for the baby's health and for the birthmother's comfort and support during labor and delivery. We just prayed. All the time. It was the time I felt nearest to God because I knew there was nothing I could do for myself or for the baby or for the birthmother and that I was truly in God's hands, no matter what happened.

Thankfully, blessedly, Joey's birthmother had tremendous strength of character and spirit and was able to follow through with her adoption plan even after spending 3 days in the hospital with her newborn baby. At first, I mourned those 3 days that I didn't get to be a part of Joey's life but when we got a special letter for Joey written by her birthmother, I realized how important those 3 days were for her. She told Joey that those three days were very special and she was so grateful for the time she had to spend with her little baby before allowing us to become a family.

I sit here in awe of her ability to see beyond her own immediate pain. I am continually grateful to her because it was only through her sacrifice that I am able to be a mother and to hold my daughter--my daughter!--in my arms and comfort her when she cries or celebrate with her when she triumphs over her own fears and anxieties. I will always always *always* appreciate what she has done for me. For our family. I think about her at this time knowing that she is thinking of Joey and the tiny baby she let go. I think she would be delighted to see the beautiful butterfly that has emerged from that baby coccoon. I will never be able to adequately thank her but I hope that somehow she knows the indescribable joy I feel in my heart when I look at my beautiful, wonderful, artistic, funny, clever little girl.

--L

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