Happy second birthday, sweet BB3. You turn two today, December 5. This is a strange birthday. You are still there, and we are still here, and we won't be able to talk or celebrate together. We keep wondering if the orphanage remembers. Will they make you feel special? Will someone give you a hug? Will you get a few extra minutes of playtime? A special toy? Bedtime cuddles?
However we choose to celebrate here feels inadequate too. We are getting our Christmas tree, but we wish you were here to get it with us. We will think about you all day, and we pray this will be the last birthday that we have to wonder if you feel special.
In your short two years, you have been let down by a lot of grownups. Two years ago today your mom was delivering you. Did she know then that she wouldn't be able to keep you? In those early days, was there anyone who let you know how special, remarkable, and unique you are? On the day of your birth we were preparing to adopt you, we just didn't know it. We had to undergo psychological evaluations as part of this whole process, and looking back at our calendars realize that we were with a doctor telling him our life stories on the day you were being born. God knew what he was doing, and we've been moving closer to each other with each step.
BB3, we wish we could be with you today. We would hide presents around the house and send you on a treasure hunt. We would make your favorite foods (which we don't even know yet!) and would read your favorite books. We will do it when you get here and make up for lost time along the way. In the meantime, we will spend your birthday doing the most meaningful thing we can think of: preparing and signing adoption acceptance paperwork. We not only accept you, but we are so happy to have you as part of our family. You are the puzzle piece we have been waiting for.
We love you already, BB3, and we will keep doing all we can to get you here.
Happy Birthday.
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