I will admit that I wondered at first. Long before we decided for certain to adopt. Long before you were even born...and an eternity before I met you. I wondered if I would love you. Wondered if I could. Maybe this seems a horrible thing to admit to. I don’t think so though because it wasn’t actually you or me or whether you were worthy of love or if I were capable of giving it that I was wondering about, but more about the nature of love itself. How does one love if not to simply decide to do so? I was preparing myself with these thoughts, arming myself with the knowledge that love is more than we assume it is. Thinking it through in order to be able to promise you that my love for you will not fluctuate daily as feelings, without fail, do, but that it will be a constant presence in your life. In order to be able to promise you that you will never need to wonder.
I also wondered what it would be like to visit you every day for two hours at the orphanage. I wondered what we would possibly do. It’s only been three days. We’ve only seen you for six hours in total. I needn’t have wondered. The time we have with you is too short already. It feels like suspended time...quiet, peaceful, full. I could never have known that for these two hours, everything else would become less important, that seeing you yawn would be something to exclaim excitedly over...and that like this morning, when we made you laugh for the first time, actually laugh, that it would be the most beautiful sound I could ever imagine.
I didn’t expect to already love you. I had told myself to be patient, that it would come in time. But here we are and here you are, with your huge, alert, glossy brown eyes and though you may not really know us yet or understand exactly who we will be to you, we understand very well after just six hours that you are the most precious gift God could ever have blessed us with. We are head over heels already.