IT’S A BOY! This week we accepted a referral for a two year little boy from West Africa. He will join our family in the coming months. We are over-the-moon excited! Here’s how it happened…
Today, while pacing in your daddy’s office, hitting the refresh button every 3.67 seconds, we anxiously awaited an email that would finally provide us with a glimpse of you. Just as we waited during the long labours of your siblings, we waited, perhaps with even more anticipation and excitement (as this was a much longer wait!) to finally “meet” you today. While I don’t remember every detail, I remember certain moments of the days when I met your brothers and sister, and I know I’ll want to remember moments of this special day too.
We didn’t actually know it would be today – but we did know it would be soon. Just like the days when I met your siblings. At breakfast this morning, your daddy said to me, “Well, we won’t hear anything today so I guess I should get some work done while I can.” I made plans to keep busy and distracted by running errands with your big brother Jeremy, never imagining that everything would change a few hours later.
After dropping Noah and Eva off at school, Jeremy and I headed to Richmond. We shared a hot chocolate at Starbucks and chatted with your great Aunt whom we met up with there. Then Jer and I perused IKEA, buying slipcovers for the new-to-us chairs I’d recently gotten for a bargain. (Your mommy loves finding a good deal!)
It was a gloomy day as we drove home in the rain, splashing through puddles with the windshield wipers working hard. As I pulled into Tsawwassen, my phone, amplified by the cupholder it was sitting in started playing Ella Fitzgerald’s “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas”. I glanced over to see that the caller ID said that “Office” was calling. Your mommy is a stickler about not touching phones while driving so while pondering over who “Office” could be Ella finished her little song and the phone went to voicemail. While navigating through the continual construction and constantly changing lanes I wondered if it was maybe your daddy calling from the church office with news. So as soon as I got past the last of the pylons and raincoat-clad construction workers I pulled over to the side of the road on 16th Ave. and picked up my phone.
There was a voicemail message so I went through the steps of calling my voicemail and pushing in the passcode, impatiently wading through the Telus woman’s voice prompts. The voicemail was simply a hangup click. Unhelpful. So I checked the number of who had called and under the large “office” caller ID it said in a tiny font, “Choices Adoption Agency”. Insert PANIC!
I called them back, my heart pounding, and Jeremy wondering why we had stopped a few blocks from home. The receptionist took a few minutes to sort out who had just called me and I waited on hold trying not to hyperventilate, praying this was the call we’d been waiting for. She came back to say that the social worker who’d called me was currently on the phone and would I like to wait on hold. In a flash I realized that she’d likely called your daddy after not reaching me, so I hung up, tossed the phone down and drove the few blocks to the church office (Admittedly the first time I’ve ever been tempted to speed through that 30km/hr school zone!)
I’d barely thrown the van into park before ripping out the keys. The automatic sliding door of our van had never seemed slower to me as I pried your brother from his carseat straps, tossed him over my shoulder and ran into the church. Bursting into your daddy’s office he greeted me with raised eyebrows and a finger to his lips. He was on the phone.
Before he could change the call to speakerphone I glanced over his shoulder to read his handscrawled notes. Sheer determination and the grace of God allowed me to read your father’s hurried and excited handwriting, which is difficult on the best of days, and I saw at the top of the page “boy, 2 years old” and your name, and it took my breath away.
As we finished up the rest of the call with a mix of fist-pumping, hugs, and tears, your bewildered brother watched his elated parents with confusion and amusement. We hung up with the social worker awaiting her promise to email pictures immediately. After about three and a half gruelling minutes and at least 3,000 refresh clicks, an email popped up with your name in the subject line, and your sweet face as a photo attachment.
We’ve fallen head over heels for you, my son, and long for the day when we can look into your beautiful brown eyes and cup your sweet little face in our hands. We have waited, prayed, longed and ached for you, sweet boy, and just getting a glimpse of you today has already made it all worthwhile. Now to just get you home! We love you already, and for always, and will look back on this special day with thankful joy and full hearts.