Love.

Sometimes I felt like infertility was a scarlet letter.  It's there all the time, and I felt labeled and marked.  I thought that because strangers didn't see me with sippy cups or a supply of crayons coming out of my handbag, that they just know I couldn't make a baby.  Anyone who looked at me saw that I was of proper baby making age (and getting older my the minute!), wore wedding-ish jewelry on the appropriate finger, and yet no sign of a small child in my daily life.  I wondered sometimes if others silently pitied me.  I thought these things because I pitied myself.  Yep- I felt t it regularly and typed it here in black and white for all to see.  It's not pretty, but it's the truth.  And...if one more person asked me "So, when are you guys going to have a baby?" I was going to lose. my. mind. 

I also felt sorry for John.

John.  One of the reasons I fell in love with him is because I knew he'd be the BEST dad.  During our courtship, my sister's boys were aged preschool and baby.   He got down on the floor and played cars and trucks with the big one. He would hold the little one and make funny faces and silly noises for him.  True story from our wedding weekend: various obligations took every adult out of my house and left the following combination of people behind: John, and our nephews, then aged 6 years and 18 months.  During my bridal pedicure, I got a text from John that read : Uncle John 0, red velvet cupcake diaper, 1. Our little nephew had enjoyed a red velvet cupcake the day before and now poor John was getting to experience that on the flip side of things.  But, he didn't complain, and jumped into full uncle mode, taking care of business.  (Side note: we still joke about this experience years later- apparently it was quite unpleasant for all involved). When I returned home with my mom and sister, the three musketeers were on the back patio and the little one had no shirt on.  One may assume that uncle John couldn't be bothered to re-dress the child who gave him such a messy chore an hour before.  But the reason the little one was shirtless is because he was "drinking" a bottle of water.  And by "drinking", I mean that the little one decided he'd enjoy his beverage more if his new Uncle dispensed the water to him- one capful at a time. John had removed the lad's shirt in seeing that toddlers don't have the most finesse in drinking from water bottle caps.  But the fact that he was wiling to cater to this child and patiently dole out capfuls of water to his new little nephew...well, it was just one of 1,000 moments that confirmed to me that John would be such a great dad.  Fast forward to present day, and John is now the uncle to three small nephews.  He is so great with each of them, fully ingrained in their lives with stories about life in school,  an understanding about the importance of "Toy Story" characters, and more funny faces and silly noises for the new little one.  As proud as I was that I picked such an amazing uncle for my nephews, I couldn't help but focus on and often go back to how I knew that I picked such an amazing daddy for our future kids.  I use the word "daddy" here because anyone can be a father, but not everyone is a "daddy".  My sister and I grew up with a daddy, and I marred a future one--- now all we needed was little being to give John the opportunity to be the amazing daddy I know he would be. 

So, yeah, I did feel bad for us.  We were parents without a child. 

All of that changed with one phone call last summer to tell us that we had been chosen by birthparents to adopt our baby girl.  In an instant, we were about to become parents in a little over three months.  Naturally, it was amazing, and we were on Cloud 9.  But as happy as I was, I found that I couldn't let myself just be happy.  I couldn't let go and just feel it.  I cautiously selected baby furniture and chose outfits and did all of the wonderful and exciting things a mommy-to-be does to prepare for her baby.  I was elated and felt incredibly blessed, but I was also completely terrified.  Impending motherhood had not been kind to me before, and I was terrified of being crushed again.

Fast forward to our daughter's birthday.  The joy I felt upon laying eyes on her for the first time was unmatched by anything else I had ever experienced.  And from that day on, a little more of the sadness from our previous losses has subsided and is now fading into non-existence.  I am a mom.  More importantly, I am HER mom.  And she was worth everything it took to get us to be a family.  This family.

And, as I sit here typing this, the most delicious baby ever born sits to my right.  She is kicking me on my arm, playing with her hands, and making cooing noises that I pray sink into my brain so I always remember what they sound like when she's older.  

They say time heals wounds, and yes it does.  But for me, it was love.