Loving through Losing: A Letter to our Daughter

Wren-

No matter how many years pass, a mother never forgets birthing her children.  It's a holy and traumatic experience, a marker in time.

Each child, each birth, is distinct.

Your older brother came into the world as predicted, strictly sticking to his due date, a rule follower from the get-go.  A loud prophet, as the doctor called him, and surprisingly big considering my small frame.

Your baby sister, of course, was another story.  Arriving after an early, unplanned induction, silence fell when she finally came -still and perfect.  Despite everything we held our breath, as if by depriving our bodies it could somehow allow hers to miraculously work again.  I'll forever remember the weight and warmth of her resting against my chest, the anchor of her being here....but also -in many ways- the millstone of her already being gone.

Rennie, we don't know the exact details of how you entered the world.  Oh, how I wish we did.  But here's what we DO know: Daddy and I have given gratitude, spoken strength, and prayed protection over your birth mother *long before* you came into our life OR hers.  When Elijah started Kindergarten -5 years before your birth- we imagined what kind of person she'd be.  While awaiting movement in Ethiopia's adoption processes, we asked that wisdom and courage be instilled within her for the future.  As we dealt with the heartache of relinquishing our first foster placement, she was processing a spectrum of emotions upon discovering her pregnancy.  And when the beating heart of India fully drew us in, officially opening our spirits and adoption hopes back up again, YOU were born!  Honey, your birthday follows the exact timeline of our family's transfer to India.  Our journey turned towards you like a flower seeking the sun.  The magnetic force of pieces wanting to come together, vibrating with recognition.

Here's a promise: For the rest of our lives, we'll remain emotionally connected to your birth mom.  Not only because she gave us THE VERY GREATEST GIFT in you (although, she definitely did!), but because Daddy and I understand the devastation of losing a daughter.

Hear me, Wren.  Your birth mama loved you so much.  So.Much.  It took an incredible amount of bravery and self-awareness to seek out resources and a healthy environment for your development.  Especially within a system that places value on circumstances beyond anyone's control: Economics, gender, heritage.  Those societal confines made betterment of position nearly impossible for a grown woman.  So to choose hope and opportunity for a child, despite it requiring a permanent separation from oneself, is the ultimate sacrifice a mother could make.  And THAT'S exactly what she did.  For you.

I think your birth mom's first (and last) night with you probably looked very much like our first (and last) night with your baby sister.  Filled with surprise and fear, an acceptance of the bittersweet inevitable, but also excitement about meeting you nonetheless.  I wonder if your birth father was there awaiting your arrival, as Daddy was with Margot, eyes brimming with tears and love.  The breathless wonder and welcome in your sister's delivery room MUST HAVE been reminiscent of your birth in India over a year before.  Because when you came, oh Wren, the earth hushed at your presence.  How could it not?  Your birth mama probably held you close, memorizing your perfect feet and hands, marveling over your vast brown eyes.  She understood -what we had to learn later- that when you don't get to share a lifetime, each moment together feels both fleeting and eternal.  Every "I love you" is significant, every kiss sacred.  Did your birth father hum and rock you, rooting an indelible lullaby within your infant psyche?  Daddy gently serenaded Margot with 'Eidelweiss' the evening she was born, just like he'd done with Elijah 11 years ago, and just like he'll do with you one day.  My darling girl.  There is nothing that could prepare a parent for the hardest, hardest, hardest finale of their existence: Releasing the littlest, most cherished bundle of a baby forever.  It rips your soul in half.  No mother can completely recover from that kind of loss.  We know full well; it brands you for life.

Please Wren, don't ever for a second think you were unloved.  Quite the opposite.  Your birth mom endured agony in body and spirit to allow you the favorable beginning that was unavailable to her.  We grieve in acknowledgement of that suffering, while being endlessly grateful for her selfless gift to you...and us.  She gave us our daughter.  She gave Elijah and Margot a sister.  And, for all intents and purposes, she gave us TO YOU.  Though we wouldn't be matched until later, remember that our commitment to India happened in strange proximity to your birthday.  Perhaps it was -unbeknownst to us- the catalyst of our strong connection to the country.  Or perhaps it was the pull of your birth mom's pathos.  An empathetic thread transcending distance and time, to bind two mamas through intense loss and intense love.  For a daughter no longer held in our arms, but held forever in our hearts.  A providential link further reinforced by our boundless commitment to YOU, Rennie.  And a cord of three strands, especially when 2 are mama bear strands, is not easily broken.

Precious One, Daddy and I love you beyond words.  We cannot wait to tell you -to show you- in person.  Soon princess, soon.

With everything left of our hearts-
Mommy, Daddy, Elijah and Margot