The Story of Us- Part 1- The Picture

“Hey, mama… do you have that picture…?” I wouldn’t even have to explain it anymore to my mom, she knows what I mean, she knows “that picture.” The picture of the first time I held my daughter, the first day I met her, the day that we began.

She knows, sends it back to me, back to my phone that had lost it when it lost everything. I have it ready, ready to post on Facebook in a couple hours when it was over, when we could begin.

Two hours later, the adoption completed, I could finally share it- though two and a half years had gone by since it was first taken.

I can’t wait to tell you the story of us.

I can’t wait to tell you the story of us.

But first, we start with the picture. Let me tell you about this photo:

1. She was three days old: We were thrilled to get a newborn. Such a gift! And yet it is definitely hard to realize there were 2 days of her life where I didn’t know her. Didn’t hold her. No idea the sound of her first cry. And at this point in the photo, I wasn’t even sure of her name as the nurses had it different and no one knew how to pronounce any of the versions they had. But on this day three, we began.
2. This was in the PICU- When we were placed with this baby who was placed in care, we knew she would be hospitalized for a bit as she went through withdrawal. The minimum timeline would be 11 days, and the hospital staff assured us it always took longer than the minimum. She was discharged on the 11th day. She proved from the get go that she was a fighter, and God proved from the get go that He would fight for her too.
3. I was so skinny- Sadly so. At this point in my journey I was still on the recovery road from the storm that year and quite wracked by PTSD. Appetite had been lost for a while. I remember during this stretch, I was trying to eat a certain amount of crackers and hummus each day to try to get some calories in.
4. The bed and clothes- it was so amazing walking in to her room, seeing her, but then the turning, and seeing the bed, and seeing their stuff. Knowing there was a them, they were out there, and what all that meant I had no idea.
5. The hospital band- Hospital bands had become traumatic for me that year. When they would strap them on me, I would sob and shake. What bad news did it precede? What reason did I have this time for getting one strapped on? Did it mean another hospital stay? When they would strap those bands on me, I would sob and shake and feel like shackles were being placed. But when they put this one on me, I didn’t cry. I didn’t shake. It was healing. It was the first time since that pit that it meant life, hope, good news.
6. The smile- It was the first time in months that I had smiled, truly smiled, without effort, without force. It had been so dark, so endlessly sad, and I remember even my phone emoticons only brought up sad options unless I forced it to find more. There’s a saying, about smiling, how many muscles it takes compared to frowning. But the reality is for the sufferer, they don’t need to know how many muscles it takes to smile. They feel every one. And even if it takes more to frown, it’s effortless. But to smile? I felt each muscle working it’s hardest, working to pull it all together, put on the appropriate persona, play the right part. It was more than average plastic-smile pretending. Smiling was strenuous, difficult, painful. But not this day. This day, I smiled. And I had no idea how many muscles it took.

I can’t wait to tell you the story of us. I guess today, it’s just an introduction- but in the weeks to come I hope to walk you through the journey we walked these last couple of years. I can’t thank you enough for journeying with us.