On your first birthday with us . . .

Sweet, brave boy, I watched you as you slept last night, peaceful little angel face curled up in your footed pj’s because you always get cold at night. I’m so glad that I’m starting to know these little things about you, these things that only a mama would know. While I watched you, I kept thinking that tonight is the night before your first birthday with a family, the last night you’ll ever have as a 2 year old, and the closing of the last year ever that we weren’t your family. Today is your first birthday with us and we will always be your family. You have changed our lives so much in a short amount of time. You have fit so seamlessly into our family, it feels like you’ve been our son forever. If you were scared, timid, distrustful, and reserved, I wouldn’t blame you a bit. But you’re not. You stormed into our family full of laughter, and fun, and you love us all so big and without holding back. It amazes me.

On today, I can’t help but think of your first 2 birthdays without us and wonder what they were like. Were you celebrated? Was it a special day? My heart is heavy with unknowns that will never be known, questions that will never have answers, and 2 1/2 years that will forever be lost to us.

And I’m thinking of your very first birthday ever, the day you were born, and your birth parents, the mother who carried you for 9 months and gave you life. I’m so so grateful that they did. And I wonder if they think of you every year on your birthday. I wish they could know that you’re with us on your birthday this year. And that you will always be with us on your birthdays. And that you are so loved and so cherished, and that our family is better with you in it. I wish they knew how full of life and love you are, and that we will do anything for you. But I know that they can’t.

So on this day, this day that we celebrate YOU, my heart is overflowing with sadness and joy. Sadness at what you’ve lost, sadness at the years we’ve lost; but so so much more joy. Joy that you were born. Joy that you are our son. Joy that we get to celebrate you not just today, but every day.

We love you so much little man.