Dear Ms. Feverfew –
Today your little sister Princess P. turns 6 months old. At the moment, her 18 1/2 pounds of squishy, snugly adorableness rests comfortably in my lap as she bats at anything within reach, grabbing at the mouse, and trying taste anything she can put her mouth on. The desk, my watch, a CD case, the remote control – she’s a non-discriminatory taster. She squeals with delight whenever I talk to her, her chubby arms and legs waving madly as a smile makes its way through her entire body.
In short, she’s perfect.
I lean down and rest my lips against her warm peach-fuzz covered head. And I start to cry, anointing her head with the tears of a mother’s heart.
Oh how I miss you in moments like this.
I know you are a grown woman now and not a baby but you were a baby once. I should have held you on my lap and kissed your peach-fuzz head instead of giving you to strangers, all in the name of love.
Adoption awareness isn’t just a month in my life, it is woven into the sinews and fibers of my soul. And sometimes…sometimes my awareness hurts like hell.