Monthly Archives: May 2014

And now it is today

When Mommy and I were dating, we lived hours apart. We would talk every night and text and write e-mails, but we could only see each other on the weekends.

On Friday morning, we would text each other, “And now it is today,” because we knew we’d see each other later in the day.

In a little while, we’re going to get you, and we’ll take you to the airport, and fly you home.

Tonight, you’ll sleep in your bed, in your room, in your home.

And now it is today.

Four months old today

I had a long talk with your birth mother today.

It’s been a hard four months for all of us, four months ago today, she gave birth to you. She wishes she could keep you with her, and she wishes she could have signed you over to us four months ago, when the transition would have been faster and quicker. It’s been hard for her to see you these months, knowing she can’t take care of you and that you would one day go away.

It makes me sad to see how sad she is to have to let you go. With tears on her face, she knelt down and said goodbye.

She knows she can’t take care of you and that mommy and I will give you a much better life than you would have otherwise.

I thanked her for entrusting us with her baby and for the sacrifice she’s making for you.

Out of tremendous sadness will come boundless joy.

Mommy and I will love you twice as much, for her and for us.

We’re bringing you home

Daddy and baby mommy and baby








The judge saw no reason for you to remain where you were, when the eventual adoptive parents were standing right there, wanting to take you home.

Your mommy held you through the court proceedings, while you slept, and I stood next to you both.

We looked like a family and the judge agreed.

He asked our lawyer and the state’s attorney to work out the details to remove you from state control. It should all be done by tomorrow, and your birth state will dismiss any claims to you. Then our lawyer will begin the process of adoption.

But on Friday, we’re bringing you home.

And mommy and I can’t stop crying.

We’re all going to court Wednesday

Tuesday, Daddy talked with your caseworker and the assistant director of the office managing your case.

They said that during the hearing, we’ll all have an opportunity to talk with the judge. I’ve seen his picture online. He looks like a kind man.

This is a new judge, in a new jurisdiction, because you and your birth mother have both moved from where you were born. This new judge will make all the decisions from now on, from your placement with us, to your final adoption, so Mommy and I want to make a good impression on the judge.

Our lawyer will be there . . . he’s a really good talker, and he already knows the judge, so we hope he’ll make a really good impression for us.

The family of the birth mother will also speak to the judge – we expect them to explain how important it is that you come be with us as soon as possible. They also have a lawyer, although we have no idea what he will say.

(YOU, too, have a lawyer. Everyone has a lawyer.)

Your caseworker and the assistant director will also talk with the judge, and we think the judge will be particularly interested when they try to explain why it’s taken nearly four months for nearly nothing to happen.

When it’s our turn to talk, we’ll share with the judge how much we love you and miss you and want you to be with us right away. We’ll tell him about your pretty room and all of your pretty clothes, and how we plan to adopt you sometime in the next year, when he says we can.

The family taking care of you has temporary custody . . . it’s still the emergency custody from when you were born four months ago. No one has permanent custody of you – we’re trying to get permanent custody, and we pray the judge will give us permanent custody as quickly as he can.

And, you’ll be there, too, because we’re all going to court. We’ll get to see you, and hold you and talk to you while everyone in the courtroom will see you and talk about you.

And you have no idea how important you are.

Yesterday, today, and tomorrow

Yesterday, Mommy and Daddy went shopping.

Today, I have a suitcase with tiny little clothes I’m bringing with me when I go see you.

Tomorrow, Before we see you, Daddy and Mommy will go to court, to try to talk with the judge who holds your fate in his hands.

Daddy got this for you, to fit in your tiny little hands.
photo (2)

Last week, and this week

We met with your local caseworker Friday. This first of three meetings lasted nearly three hours. We didn’t talk about you very much, we mostly talked about daddy’s and mommy’s childhoods and our early lives. But we had photos of you on the table in front of us.

Friday night, we learned that there’s a court hearing for you on Wednesday morning.

Saturday, we called our attorney, who agreed to go court to represent us, because we’re 800 miles away.

But Sunday after talking with someone at church, we decided we needed to be in court, too.

So, we’ll see you Wednesday afternoon!

Prints charming

Mommy and Daddy had to go get fingerprinted again, because the FBI couldn’t read the last set of fingerprints (for either of us!).

So, we got fingerprinted again, this time by a different officer.

The fingerprints will be used by the police to check our backgrounds, and to ensure we’re not criminals.

We’re not worried, because Daddy isn’t a criminal. In fact, for you, I’m Prints Charming.
Prints charming

When is a setback not a setback?

We’re making progress . . . your caseworker comes for her first home visit in the morning.

But, when I talked with her earlier this week, she said your home state could drag things out for months. So, while we had reason to feel good that progress is being made with her visit this week, we’ve felt pretty bad knowing that even after the paperwork is done here in our state, that the process could take months more.

You won’t be with us on Father’s Day.

You won’t be with us on Independence Day.

You probably won’t be with us on Labor Day.

I have to remind myself that it’s not really a setback when we’re making progress, only the progress isn’t as fast or as smooth as we want.

I’ve thought a lot this week about these words by Robert Hunter:

“The wheel is turning
and you can’t slow down
You can’t let go
and you can’t hold on
You can’t go back
and you can’t stand still
If the thunder don’t get you
then the lightning will.”

Sometimes, I feel like we’re the horses on a carousel. There’s sometimes the feeling or sense of motion and progress, but we remain static, and frozen, and we’re not really making much progress, at all.