Fifteen
years ago I was a happy, carefree 24 year old who boldly and confidently just
figured I’d have a baby. If only I had known then that in the summer of 2015,
when I was rounding out the last of my 30’s, I would finally know the wonder of
motherhood. It is so much different and so much better than anything my silly, immature
20-something brain could have dreamed up. I feel full of love for this child,
for his birth mother, and for the Father above who brought us together. I know without
a doubt that this tiny baby was meant for us – that God was weaving his 
life
together with ours while he was still being knit together in his birth mother’s
womb. He knew we’d have a son and that his name would be Ethan. He knew that he
would need us. He knew that his birth mother would read our story and be
touched. He knew that she would see all the love surrounding us and visualize
this baby in our arms. He knew that we would love him unconditionally. He knew…he
knew…
In
the months when we heard no after no – it was easy to become discouraged. To
question whether or not this dream would ever come true. To wonder if we were pushing
for something that just wasn’t meant to be. But now? Looking at this sweet
baby, I have absolutely no doubt that he was meant to be. That our little
family of three was meant to be. And that feels- amazing. I am humbled. I am
ashamed at myself for feeling doubtful. I am so incredibly grateful. I am
overwhelmed with how much I love this baby already. I am just so glad we kept
going – that we said yes – that we waited – and that God provided this amazing
child. I don’t feel worthy of this gift. I’m not sure I’ll ever comprehend it. But I’m going to do my very best for Ethan. He will know how much he’s loved and how long we waited for him. All the loss, all the sadness along the way seemed to melt when he was placed in my arms. I was…I am…finally a mother.
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