Mama Takes Over

 Today, Mama is taking over my blog, because she has something to get off of her chest.  Take it away Mama:

To My Daughter's Mother:

We drove by the place where you work today on our way to an appointment, and I was reminded again that I was not the first person to be called “Mommy” by my beautiful daughter.  I was reminded that although you seem like this far-away person, you live a couple cities down the road.  I was reminded that while I already cannot imagine my life without this spunky, energetic girl in the backseat, you are having to do just that.  That thought gives me more pain that you think it does.  Even as I little girl, I knew I wanted to adopt kids one day.  What I had never considered was that for me to adopt a child, someone else had to lose one.  I hurt for you, and I wish it didn’t have to be this way. 

In a few weeks our little girl will be 12 years old, and let me tell you, if someone had told me twelve years ago that my daughter was being born, I would have told them they were crazy.  And yet while I was in the midst of 14-year-old middle school worries, you were giving birth to our baby.  So first I would like to start this letter by saying thank you.  Thank you for carrying our sweet girl for 8 months, and then enduring the pain it took to bring her into this world.  I will be forever grateful.

I often think about the timeline of our lives, yours and mine.  When I was starting my first year of high school, you were helping our daughter take her first steps.  As I continued throughout the rest of my formative years, you were teaching her to talk, eat with a spoon and fork, potty-train, and ride a tricycle.  While I was starting freshman year of college, you were waving goodbye to her as she got on the bus for the first day of kindergarten. 

I don’t know what the circumstances were that led to our daughter living with me instead of you.  And I don’t need to.  I hold no judgment against you because that is not why I’m here.  I am here to love our daughter and be there for her when for whatever reason, you can’t be.  But I want you to know this – Although we have never met, I love you. 

I love you because you were there before me, loving her. 

I love you because I love her, and every time I look at her, I see you. 

I love you because although you are not an active part of our life right now, I believe you will be one day.

 I love you because she needs to know that her love for you is good and valuable. 

Above all of these reasons, I love you because Christ first loved me, and I know that the only difference between you and I is that Christ has done a work in my heart and saved me from the person I would be apart from Him.

And every time she cries for you, I cry too.  When she worries about where you are and if you’re ok without her, I worry too, and we pray for you.  When she wants me to put hair into pigtails or “just make it look cute,” I imagine you putting barrettes into her hair when she was little.  When I tuck her into bed at night, I picture all the nights you tucked her in, and I wonder if it’s similar.  So even though you can’t see or talk to her right now, I want you to know that you are still in her life.  You will never be forgotten or replaced.  You are prayed for.  You are thought about daily.  You are loved.