Confessions

Do you ever have a secret that you just want to hold onto? Your heart might fold around it, the treasured peices of your life, and you want to keep it forever to open quietly in places only known by you. I have a secret that I have held. A beautiful secret that I am now ready to unfold.

Yesterday I met my daughter. For the first time I opened my arms and empty air gave way to a small, soft little girl. She is perfect. Unbelievably perfect.

How do you tell the world? How do you possibly make someone understand the bottomless brown eyes? What words can wrap around the discovery of small hands as they reach for your hair, nose, lips, eyes? How do you explain what it means to be chosen, what it means to adopt, to cleave, to vow? How do you make someone understand love without a knowing, faith without sight, hope without assurance? And what of joy when love, faith and hope are tried and proven? How do I convince you, world, that a brown skinned, dark eyed, curly haired girl is truly my daughter? That she was chosen by the God of the Universe and placed in my arms?

I am in Africa. It's true.

As most of you know, we waited months for a referral. It didn't make any sense to us why we were seemingly falling through the cracks. Other families would come and go with their children while we were left waking each morning to the same realization: empty inbox.

We received our referral. At the last minute. And it was different than we imagined. We didn't rush to shout our good news from the rooftops. We didn't get on Facebook and spill our guts. We kept it tucked neatly in the hope of our hearts. I've taken a break from blogs and forums, chat groups and email. I have discovered that sometimes silence really is golden and that sometimes, some of your most intimate moments are worth treasuring in the vault of your heart before they are released.

When I first saw the bright blue doors my hands began to shake. All the sudden I felt as though I was waking from sleep, from a deep dream that I have been dreaming for years. All the planning and hoping and praying, all the work and tears, frustration and antisipation have been leading me to these doors. And then, suddenly, I was there.

The only two moments in my life that compare to meeting my daughter was meeting my Gideon and meeting my Maddox. It was nothing less than spectacular. She saw me and broke into the sweetest smile I have ever seen. I held her as she touched my hair and ran her small hands along my face: eyes, nose, mouth, cheeks, chin. She was smaller and more beautiful than I ever imagined. She is dainty and feminine and fits in the crease of my arm perfectly. Only five months old, she is still such a baby. Her head bobbles and she can't yet sit on her own. She reaches to touch everything and is completely responsive. She smiles incessantly. I am captivated. Completely.

Welcome to the family, baby girl. We are going to love you forever.