She received a file about a little boy with medical needs, fell in love with him from a photo, and spent two months preparing to bring him home from China.
The day, the time, the minute had come when I could finally meet and hold him. It was as if the floodgates had opened. All the paperwork and waiting came down to this minute. And it was perfect. He was perfect. But you know what else happened in that minute? His life and his initial story, most parts of it we will never have the fortune of knowing, came to a crashing end.
As I held our son, I thought and wept for his first mommy and daddy. Their sacrifice and dedication to love were beyond unfathomable. I slowly earned the right to kiss him on his little forehead, and I quietly promised to first mommy and daddy I would continue the torch lit by their sacrifice. I would adore our son. I would Honor his story.
And teach him about sacrificial love. They would forever be woven in our framework through his framework, despite us never getting the opportunity to meet. They would be in his personality, in his perfected DNA, in his gentle spirit, in his laugh – oh his laugh. Is that from you, first mommy? It is pure.
We soaked in as much of the beautiful motherland of China as we could. We loved the people, the culture, and the traditions that were so rich in history there. When we got home it felt as if the appointments started right away. Measurements, amplified feedings, therapies, surgical consults, ultrasounds, and lab work. It became a new norm to our family. The big boys were amazing.
It was as if they had been preparing for this always. They started tagging along to appointments, offering insight on safe feedings, snuggling up close to offer comfort during needle pokes, and comic relief when we all needed a good giggle. They came to the hospital after our first big operation and were the key to our first earned smile.
During several appointments it was mentioned there might be a mild hearing loss. ‘This can be typical with some of his medical implications.’ ‘Let’s keep an eye on it.’ But we knew. He wasn’t responding to his name. He wouldn’t turn around to look at you unless you were close enough that he knew you were present. He couldn’t find you if you called him from another room.
We met with our beloved surgeon again. She analysed his audiograms and in her gentle way normalized the inevitable. The day arrived and it became official. Our boy would need the assistance of a hearing aid indefinitely to optimize his ability to hear. The moment his aid was placed will forever be timestamped in my mind. Have you ever in your life gotten to witness a child grasp a new function fully? We did. And what a humbling experience.
We had missed so much of his little life already, but to know he still had never clearly heard me tell him I love him. Or heard his daddy tell him how special he was to us. Or his older brothers marvel at his character. It was almost too much to take in.
Now we never miss an opportunity to sound off our admiration. It’s the torch we vowed to continue carrying. It is the continuation of love that was birthed the night he was born. It is the chapters of the story that were started before us, initially written without us, but will be continued with us. And in case you were wondering, he does in fact love Chicl-fil-A!”
