A Letter to my Boys

Dear Callum and Nolan,

I set out to write this blog for your sibling who we are currently adopting. That one day they could look back and see this part of their journey and how we thought of them. It’s still that, but today I wanted to take time to write to you so that one day when you are older and not 5 and almost 3 years old, you too can see what this journey meant for ya’ll.

So here’s what I want you to know in case you don’t remember this part a year from now or 20 years from now. Ya’ll love this baby more than I could have ever fathomed, already. Before you ever set eyes on them, before you ever held them in your eager arms, you loved them. You talk about them, call them by the nickname we have picked out, all the time. Recently, Nolan you told your teacher at Sunday School all about the baby and how they were hiding. Makes sense that this feels like a little bit of the longest game of hide and seek ever to be played because you know this baby is out there we just haven’t discovered who they are yet.

Callum, my uber empathetic, big hearted boy. You get sad often these days, ask us why they haven’t come yet, ask us why the wait is so long. I know you notice how those questions make us sad too because our hearts are repeatedly asking the same thing and it feels like a bruise that’s getting poked again and again. We have tried so hard to validate those feelings with our own, to be open and honest. To tell you we have no idea why this baby isn’t here in our family yet but we really do still believe in a God who knows exactly why. Callum Silas, I want you to know that although it makes my heart so undeniably sad to see you so disappointed during this process it also has allowed us to have so many big conversations about God. You have talked to God and asked God about this baby so many times and sometimes even heard God talk back. I can’t explain how much joy that brings to my heart, it’s the best feeling ever to see you discover faith.

You have both waited so long. Nolan, you have waited for this baby for half of your life. Callum, since the earliest memories you can muster up you’ve been waiting for them. The truth is there are some days your Dad and I have felt like the worst parents for putting you through this. To adopt was our decision, not yours, and it feels particularly cruel on days we find you crying for this baby and we are cuddling you with tears in our own eyes. What I desperately hope you know at the end of this journey though is despite life’s many surprises (some fun, some so very not) that our family is one who chooses love. Who chooses hope. Who chooses faith even when it feels so crappy in the moment. Because we know those are the things that win out, not always in the moment, but always forever.

I sometimes have to manage my dreams when it comes to this process but I have this recurring one where I picture the both of you meeting this baby for the first time. That introduction, your excited, handsome, smiling faces. Your little arms, cradling this tiny bundle up next to your now lanky little boy bodies. Every time I have that dream it gives me butterflies in my tummy and it feels like falling in love, like the best day of my entire life. I can’t wait to see that dream come true, boys, and I can’t wait to watch the rest of your lives unfold as the best of siblings. This baby doesn’t know this yet but pretty soon they will come to find out that they landed the best brothers in this whole wide world.

I love you Callum, Nolan, and our Baby-to-be Bass. It is the greatest honor of my life to be your mom. To walk this journey with all three of you has irrevocably changed me and I am forever grateful.

Love,

Your Momma