by Sarah Roney
Being pregnant makes me very aware of the long, arduous process of growing a baby and birthing them into this world. I am kicked constantly by our squirming little girl due in March and am reminded regularly of my husband when I look into the face of my one year old because she bears his image so acutely. But four of my children bare the images of other birth parents, and three other women went through this very same process of pregnancy and birth, only to say good-bye. This leaves me awestruck. If I so often think about them, how much more often are they thinking of their babies? As a family we pray consistently for their birth mama’s after our Bible reading each night, and I even have the privilege of talking to our sons birth mama regularly because he was adopted domestically. But I wish I could sit down with them all and share my heart. I would ramble and cry, and perhaps they would think I’m crazy. But perhaps they would also recognize that my love for our children, and for them, is genuine and sincere.
I don’t know your story, but I respect it. I don’t know how hard your journey has been, but we pray for you regularly. When we all get to heaven, I can’t wait to drink chai at your side, share a small cup of strong Ethiopian coffee together, or pour a Dr. Pepper over ice to sip in the shade with you. I will show you pictures from dozens of photo albums and share all of their funny stories. We will laugh until we cry, and then we will just keep crying because you weren’t able to live these memories with them. You brought them into this gloriously broken world, and now I am teaching them to grow into themselves within it.
I know you are not here with us physically, but my heart recognizes that together, we mama through the tears, the laughter and the tarnished stains in all of our stories. Together, we are making them into who God is calling them to be. Together we are raising beautiful children, even though we live worlds apart. It is a privilege to be their mama now and I will do my very best to help them make sense of their one glorious but tear-filled life. They bare your image when they smile or in how they laugh, but they bare mine in their sense of humor and style. I am not a perfect mama to them, but none of us are, right?
As we share in their shaping, I want you to know that it is an honor every single day. May our children be strengthened by our combined influence and may their hearts be healed knowing that their adoptions have increased the amount of love that exists for them in this world, not severed or diminished it. I love you dearly because of how passionately I love them, please carry this truth in your heart forever.
