Every Adoption Has A Story

I can hardly believe that it has been two years since a little boy was born to a woman named "R". A little boy who was meant to be ours, but God had other, more perfect plans. Today that little boy turns two and he is the arms of another mother and father who I know love and cherish the fact that they were picked to be his parents against all odds.

Today I can look back with a bittersweet smile when I think of the little boy who was almost mine. Knowing that God had the perfect plan all along, but I just had to wait for that plan. Writing myself a letter a year later was incredibly healing. Thinking of how much joy I have in Xiomara assures me that this little guy is providing his parents with sweet, sweet smiles and joy. My only regret today is not knowing him or his parents. I wish somehow they could know the full story of how God hand picked them, not us to be his parents. That they would know that I still think of him, pray for him, and pray for them. Maybe they know all that already, but I still pray that one day perhaps God would give me that chance.

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In the meantime, I hope to help others who are going through that dark, seemingly infinite pain. Anytime I hear of someone going through a failed adoption, my heart aches. Because now I'm one of them. I know that pain. In an odd way I am thankful for that, because now I know how to provide support, love, and prayer. If you know someone close to you going through that pain, I wrote three tips that may help you better understand how to help ease that pain, if only a little.

Today as I go about my day I'm going to be praying for "R", her son, and his adoptive parents. For every adoption has a story, and mine happens to have a failed adoption as part of it. And I'm thankful that it does.

When did...

my teeny,

tiny,

baby

grow up?