Ruby is almost 6 months. She is SO still, so sweet and even tempered. She doesn’t cry much except when she’s hungry or overtired, things I would expect from a baby! Her eyes captivate a room and her soul feels wise and old. No one can make Ruby laugh like her older sister and she loves being dragged around by her older brothers. She isn’t a thumb sucker but loves her hands to soothe her, and she lives for a warm bath. It’s always a miracle to me what you can know about a person in just a short five months, especially about a person who doesn’t even speak yet because even in the silence there is so much being said.
And every time my babies are this age I have a moment of deep reflection and even perhaps sorrow as I ponder on the five and a half months I spent in foster care waiting on my eternal family. Who knew the things I loved? Did they know how to comfort me or make me laugh? Did I light up when someone came in the room? I like to think they did and that in this foster home there were angels who truly tried to pour love into a baby they knew they’d soon say goodbye to.
It’s a piece of my life that goes missing, a time I know nothing about and in many ways I mourn for my adopted parents who would have loved to fill those spaces and moments for me. Who yearned desperately to know my fingers and toes and kiss my baby belly. I’m grateful to be where I am and for the spaces in time I don’t remember but can almost sense. These reflections teach me about myself and about people, those still waiting for their babies and the children still waiting for families and those mourning for time lost.
We all have delicate stories don’t we? And this part of mine always serves as a reminder to pause and give thanks to Heavenly Father for the blessing of my children. I have a sacred and deep gratitude to have known Ruby every second of her life and I don’t take a single one of them for granted and recognize not all have the chance. Maybe something feels lost in your life and you mourn for what was or might have been, but my story reminds me continually that there is a plan much bigger than my own, even when I can’t yet see it. Xo -j