It is hard to think about the staggering losses our daughter has faced by age three. It is no wonder that she is so serious in all of her photos. It’s no mystery to me why she is so small still. We are thrilled to be her parents, but we know she has no reason to be happy about where she is and why and how she got there. This is what I do my best to remember every single day; it is all too easy to get caught up in our joy at having a daughter, but it’s not right to forget her pain. She bears those losses every single moment of her life, and will still long after she has come home with us. She will for the rest of her life, I imagine. There is nothing I can do about that.
But I can be a soft place to land.
I can be a soothing voice in a dark and quiet room.
I can fight my hardest in the only way I know how to get to her as soon as possible.
I know that where she is that she is surrounded by love, that she is nurtured and fed and read to, that of all the places she could be until we can belong to her, it is one of the very best. We know that, and it makes it easier, but it still doesn’t make me stop crying when I think of her in a room with other children, all going to sleep knowing that they have not yet arrived at their final destination.
If you think of us and our daughter tonight, say a little prayer. We’d like to get her home soon.