But as many adoptive parents know, birthdays can have hard parts mixed in with the fun. A conglomeration of emotions that as parents have us swinging from high to low all day long, leaving us knowing that someday all the questions circling in our minds now our kids will ask as they come to understand what "adopted" means. Since we're all about keeping things even here, I know I wrote a letter to Jordan on his second birthday and first with us, and I'll also share what I wrote for Judah, too.
Dear Judah,
Today was your very first birthday with us. You've been an official member of our family for only 58 days, home for less, and yet in that short time you've come so far. When you first got home, you clung like an octopus to us any time we took you out of the house, and, while those moments still occur when you're in an unfamiliar space, you now are comfortable enough to push our hand away and run ahead sometimes, trusting that we will follow you, and we will. The glimpses of personality you showed on your Family Day are now completely you. We love your righteous sense of justice and strong will. You may just be the silliest one in the family, but your compassion and affection for others is the most special thing about you. (Personally, I also appreciate your incredible neatness, and how you keep us all in check if we leave something out of place. Our house has never been cleaner.) You continually surprise us with your accomplishments; you don't let your difference stand in your way.
We watched you today as you carefully opened each present, and they weren't much: a board book, a picture book, a puzzle, and a shapes game, but to you? They were precious. Each scrap of wrapping paper was carefully handed to me before you moved on to the next, and you were in awe of each and every gift. Amazed at the things that are now only yours, just Judah's. It's hard right now, because there are probably so many things you want to tell us and we don't understand, but I think, or hope, that we got your special day right for you.
When I went to post pictures, I used a hashtag #wecouldhavemissedthis. (If you read this someday and don't know what a hashtag is, you can make fun of us for our archaic social media skills. Obviously your mom still blogs like it's 2007.) It's a somewhat overused and cliche saying by adoptive parents that means we could have missed out on days like today, eating cake pops and picking dandelions and birthday celebrations, if we hadn't adopted you. Except, it's so very true. We could have missed this. We could have missed you.
But it makes us remember that there are still things missed, or people missing them. We missed most of the first three years of your life. Were you a happy baby, or a stubborn one? Big or little? When did you take your first steps? Did anyone hold you when you cried? What was your favorite toy? Who was your favorite person? Have you had a birthday party before? Is this your actual birth date? We can fill in some of the blanks thanks to pictures, some of the other parents who adopted your friends that were like brothers, and the updates we got periodically...but nothing is definite, and some things we will never know. These are the questions we expect you'll ask us as you get older, and we'll all have to understand that "we don't know" is the answer. You don't have to be okay with not knowing, because sometimes we aren't either.
The biggest question though isn't really a question. Your dad and I can say "we could have missed this", which is very true, but there are two people who really are missing this. Missing every silly dance and cheesy grin, your little strut when you know you're right about something, your scraped knees (you've got some good ones on) and elbows and somehow your foot too, sicky snuggles, and all your extra hugs and kisses every night. Yesterday, when I went to leave your room before nap and close the door, you softly called out "love you" before I could, shocking me silent for a moment. After I shut the door I was so torn, wishing to share that moment with your China mom, yet selfishly thankful I got to experience it, but overall sad for all you've lost.
Adoption comes from brokenness, and it leaves so many holes and questions and scars and wounds. We don't have the answers; we'll do our very best to fill in all the missing pieces and support you in every way if and when you want to find more. We'll love your scars, and as new sore spots or wounds open up we'll do our best to heal those too.
The most important thing though we want you to know is that yes, we could have missed you...but we didn't. You, Judah Lev, are living proof of God's plan even if sometimes you don't feel like it. Sometimes, when I don't understand why something happened, or why things have to be a certain way, I repeat over and over to myself "God is God, and I am not" until I know in my head and my heart that God is in control, He has the answers, and I don't and/or won't, but I can go to Him for comfort. Maybe to some people that's not enough, but we hope and pray that will be enough for you when you have those moments too. You are so very capable, and don't let anyone tell you otherwise.
Happy 3rd, Judah. We love you.
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