One Year

It has been a year.

One year ago, on a perfect Friday morning just before noon, she was born. Dark hair, chubby cheeks and dimples...she had my heart long before she made her appearance. It was just shy of 23 hours later when her birth mom decided to parent her and we left the hospital empty handed. Watching our social worker confirm our worst fears was horrible. It was painful to tell our family and friends, to have to say the words aloud. Words we didn't even truly believe yet. In that moment, our lives had changed and yet, they stayed exactly the same…childless.  All of the plans and dreams we had, not only for that summer but for our future with her, were thrown out the window and we were left to face an empty nursery. To go back to how things were. We were back to waiting.

It has been a year.

We can’t help but wonder what our lives would have been like if things had turned out differently. We’d be celebrating this weekend. Today is her first birthday and I wonder how she is being celebrated. Are there presents and cupcakes? Is there family and friends gathered around? Is it just her mom and her sister blowing out the candles? We know she is loved. We know she is cared for.  But how is she being celebrated?

I've resisted the urge for this year to email the birth mom. To look her up on Facebook or Google. To inquire about what she named the baby.  To see how she is doing. I can’t help but wonder what she looks like. But I know my heart cannot handle what it would mean to see her.  

It has been a year.

We couldn’t have made it through this year without the support of our friends, family, co-workers and so many others. We often forget that our families lost a little girl that day too. A first granddaughter or another granddaughter, a niece, a cousin. We are grateful for our families and friends that drove many miles, that dropped everything, that came to support us. Those that grocery shopped and cleaned and cooked and offered to help, in any way they could. Those that packed away baby items for the next time. Those that cried with us and that “got” our need to laugh or cry at inopportune times. Friends who helped us forget, who heard our morbid sense of humour when we were grieving and didn’t completely judge us. Those who let us be quiet and silent or rehash those final moments if we needed to. People that asked questions and inquired about how we were doing. Everyone who encouraged us. Everyone that love(d) us. 

We wouldn't be able to look back on this year with the same clarity and optimism if it wasn't for our family and friends and those that have supported us with this adoption roller coaster.  

And for that and for you, we are grateful.

It has been a year. And we are hopeful.

Photos by KAS Images.