Talking about Noelle's birth mom is nothing new for us. We pray for her nearly every night. I've told and retold the story of all that we know and guessed at what we don't.
What did she look like? Why did she leave me? Will I ever see her again?
Wishing I had the answers I hug and pray and say,
"She must have been beautiful because you are."
"She must miss you every day, I would."
"We may never know who she is and it's okay to feel sad."
A few nights ago watching pairs figure skating. Noelle runs to me, jumps in my lap, hiding her sad face on my shoulder.
"Mommy, does my birth mom look like her? I miss her, I'm sad."
Tears flow, both mine and hers. I'm sad but intensely grateful. This from the little girl who screamed and raged her feelings just a few short years ago. Now using words to express the pain. Now telling me without prompting, freely sharing her heart. To be her forever mom, to watch her grow up is the greatest privilege. I wish I could share this joy with the mom who gave her life.