The day we found you

One year ago today we received this picture. 

We knew nothing about this precious boy except that he was a few weeks old and that he belonged with us. 

 I memorized every detail of his face, his tiny curls, the way his hands were--a tiny fist and fingers splayed out, the arm holding him, the tablecloth behind him. 

I was his mother--that much I knew. But I actually knew so very little about him. 

Even now, I can't put into words to the emotions in my heart when I look at this picture and remember what it was like to see our son for the first time. 

Adoption is a gift. But it comes wrapped up in so much loss. As this beautiful boy found his way into my heart, I grieved for all he had lost: his birth family, his birth culture, history that will never be told to him, the details of where he comes from. Tangled up with our joy in the gift of our son was the recognition that another mother sacrificed her role to give him what she could not. 

It will always be this way--joy wound up with loss, redemption coming out of sorrow, life blooming from brokenness. I owe my son to a mother who carried him, whose body nourished him, who physically brought him into this world. 

If I could somehow find her and look into her eyes and speak to her, I would tell her this:

Our son is beautiful. He is strong. He is a survivor. He has a dimple in his left cheek. His hair is growing in in funny patches. He loves to take walks. He loves his daddy. His smile is contagious. His eyes sparkle. He is doing so well. He is a gift.
We are forever connected, we two mothers, by the gift of his life. 

And to Oliver on this "referral day" I say:

We love you baby. You belong with us. You are our gift. August 8th is a special day because it is the day we found you.