missing you, baby.

Is it possible to miss someone you've never met?

This sounds like the opening line to some cheesy rom-com that I would have watched repeatedly in middle school (one day I'll tell you about my eighth grade obsession with While You Were Sleeping), but it's not.

It's how I feel about our baby, our child. Our little boy or girl who we believe is out there somewhere. Growing. Developing. Being loved.

For you formed my inward parts;
you knitted me together in my mother’s womb.
I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.
Wonderful are your works;
my soul knows it very well.
My frame was not hidden from you,
when I was being made in secret,
intricately woven in the depths of the earth.
Your eyes saw my unformed substance;
in your book were written, every one of them,
the days that were formed for me,
when as yet there was none of them.

psalm 139

So much love.

We miss our baby. There's a phrase in the adoption community about children not growing in our bellies, but in our hearts. I have a dislike for things that can be cheesy, but this one is true. When we first started down this road, I worried about if I would instantly love the baby that would one day be placed in our arms.

I'm not worried about that anymore. I already love this child. This is our kid we're talking about. And I have not one single physical connection.

There are nights when I look over at Paul, who has once again fallen asleep on the couch, and I see what's missing - a little peanut curled up, snoozing away on his daddy's chest. I've seen this in my mind's eye a hundred times. I cannot wait to post that actual picture.