Tonight when I tucked her in, I lingered a little longer as I kissed her hair. Her It’s-been-a-little-too-long-between-perms, smells-like-hair-moisturizer nappy head. And I took the time to find the exact spot on her nose bridge that I have quickly kissed so many times.
Today was the 8 year anniversary of the day that began the scariest time of our lives. My husband’s tearful voice did not tell me what was wrong until I got home. But I knew it was something very, very bad. The phone call from the adoption agency had come. We hadn’t expected to hear anything from them. They informed us that we were going to have to give our precious daughter back. They said they had already explored every possible legal option, and there was no hope.
8 years later, it haunts me. One day I will be brave and I will speak of it. Not today.
I cannot fathom my life without her.
She is here
with
me,
I tucked her in tonight.
Yes, I lingered a little longer on her perfectly curly head and kissed her kissing spot again, for the 2,920th night since that day. And not one has gone by without a tremendous feeling of gratefulness that God chose for her to be here with me.
