It’s difficult to write this letter, because even the most brilliant, most perfectly written words cannot express emotion this deep, as I write to you, mother to mother.
Though we’ve never met, I know a few things about you…
Even though I do not know you, I know that you must be a beautiful person on the inside. How else would you be able to go through a great trial such as this, and have the ability to make the most difficult and courageous decision I think any human could ever possibly make. Ever. I respect and admire you for that alone, more than you can ever know.
Even though I do not know you, I know that you are a beautiful person on the outside, too. How else could this child be the most stunningly beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on?
Even though I do not know you, I know you must be a very strong woman. You must have an enormous heart, and happy personality, as those traits are abundantly apparent in your son.
Even though I do not know you, we share a bond that I see every time I look into my son’s eyes. And I close my eyes in thankfulness every single day. Thankfulness to you. And to Lorenzo for being perfect. And to whatever higher power helped us somehow find each other in this massive world.
Even though I do not know you, I somehow love you deeply.
These are things I’ll be able to tell Lorenzo about his birth mother as he grows.
I never had the chance to tell you how terrified I was, that Friday in March, as we traveled to meet this sweet little boy. What is his personality? What will he look like? Could he really end up in our family? It was one of the longest days of my life. I had gone to bed the night before by the light of my cell phone, staring at a tiny, pixelated picture message of what could be my son. Trying to fall in love with a blurry, 5-hour-old face. Anxious. Excited. Terrified. Elated.
36 hours later, Steve and I walked hand in hand down that hospital hallway and into the nursery, my heart beating so wildly that I actually thought to myself, “It’s a good thing we’re in a hospital, in case I need some cardiac assistance.” I’ve only been so scared and anxious one other time my life. But having previous experience in this precise feeling doesn't dilute its euphoria, its horror. That walk up the hallway was 4 miles long, in slow-motion like a dream in which you're sprinting, yet only moving several inches per stride.
Finally, we walked through the nursery doors and my eyes quickly darted from baby to baby, wondering, “Is that him? No. Is that? No.” and finally my eyes settled on a tiny little bundle, with long hair sticking straight out the top, just as my first son's had the day I met him. My heart stopped.
The nurse wheeled him into a private room for us to officially meet in private. And as soon as the door closed behind us, I immediately broke down into sobs of … relief! My anxiety and anticipation turned to overwhelming peace and gratitude in the smallest instant.
I already loved that little Lorenzo.
That little tiny baby grew from barely over 5 lbs. to perfectly PLUMP in no time. He's a ray of sunshine to everyone who knows him. He is quick to give a smile, and his perfect little dimple is so easy to fall in love with.
Lorenzo’s giggle is so infectious. It’s deep and rumbly, but very cheerful… just like you might imagine from seeing his chubby pictures.
He has the most tender heart of gold. He loves people. He’ll put his hands on the cheeks of someone’s face, pull them close, and study them very seriously as if he’s learning all about them. And then after several seconds, he’ll light up with a huge smile as if to say, “Ok, I trust you now! Let’s be friends!”
Your sweet boy is loved beyond measure. He is smothered in kisses daily. He’s the most amazing thing in the world to us. He’s truly happy. He’s healthy. He brightens the lives of those around him.
Please take comfort in knowing these things. Be happy, for he lights every room with his smile. Be proud, for he is magnificent.
With love, from my side of the rainbow.
(These thoughts are some excerpts from the letter I mailed, with additional thoughts that I didn't mail.)
