Sunday, May 3, 2015

Meeting Mama

On my youngest's first birthday this past fall we received a wonderful gift- a picture of his first mother and the sweetest message of love and best wishes we could have hoped for for him. Needless to say, we have treasured that contact with her and that picture and note will be a beautiful piece of his life story. We have spent almost 17 months now hoping for more contact with her, praying that God would comfort her in her decision, praying that some day our sweet boy would know her, that we would meet her fact to face.

And now, in one short week, part of that dream is coming true.

In one week, my husband and I will meet her. She isn't ready to have contact with our little boy, her little boy, but this is huge, my friends. And I cannot describe the mixture of excitement, nerves and urgency I feel. This could be the first of many visits, the precursor to meeting her son or this could be all we get. We won't know.

So while I am excited to meet her, to finally put a real person with the stories and the one picture we treasure, I recognize that this is most important for my little guy. We have a few hours (maybe) to ask some questions about her own story and his extended family, to be able to soak her in so we can answer questions about her some day for him when they arise. What will he want to know, I wonder? Short minutes in which to convey to her our love for this little boy who is our son as much as hers now.

And the nagging, painful thoughts in the back of my mind: Will she think we are enough? That we are good and right for him? What will she think about this decision she made? Will meeting us make it harder or give her some sense of peace? Will she wish she had chosen black parents, especially in the wake of such a racially charged year for our country?

I may never know the answers to these questions. She may never think them, to be honest. I, being true to my nature, may be borrowing trouble here. Overthinking this. It's hard not to overthink something that may end up being a crucial piece of his puzzle, though.

So, this next week as we wait to meet her, as my list of questions grows, as I think of which pictures to take with her (if she agrees) and which stories to tell about my sweet boy, I will pray for peace. For her and for us. That we would see this time, this meeting, as a gift on both sides. That if it is too hard for her, she will be honest with us.

Deep down in my heart of hearts, I will be praying that this will be the first of many, but asking the Lord to protect me from bitter disappointment if this is the first and last. And knowing that no matter how it feels and where it goes, whether we are easy friends or the awkwardness and tension is palpable, that this is a good and beautiful thing. For us, for my boy and, hopefully, for her.

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