Good Morning, Little Man!
It's early on a Monday morning and I am already thinking of you. Your dad and I went on a run this morning and a dad with a jogging stroller passed by us. Your stroller is sitting empty in our garage, waiting for you. Oh I can't tell you how I long to have you in that stroller. And yet, I am a little nervous. I mean, I am not so strong. I may need to start lifting weights or borrow our friends' kids to try to prepare myself for the extra struggle. Then again, maybe I'll just make Dad push you.
I watched a video this morning of another family from our agency bringing their daughter home and I must say it was so emotional. I really can't even imagine what that day will feel like, when this paperwork is done. When the months and years have passed and finally have a picture of you in our hands. When we've met you and cried and left you and cried like I can't even imagine. When we wait and pray and wait and maybe get a little angry. When we get that email that you are cleared to come home and we pack up to bring you home for good. When I get to hold you, knowing that I won't have to leave you ever again because you are coming home to occupy your room and be a part of our forever family. Son, it's too much. Too much. The day is coming and I keep reminding myself that when you are ten and running through Hy Vee or when you are fifteen and I am watching you play football this wait will feel so brief. Even if it doesn't feel that way today.
I may go sit in your room today. Somehow it feels a little closer to you. I know you don't even know a room designated as yours even exists. So we'll pray that you know you are loved by a family here. That your birth family knows. That you and I will be united soon.
I love you, son. I can't wait to bring you home. Even if the wait is long.