I am lying in bed, waking up slowly as I tend to do.
From down the hall, the sound of little feet pit-pat pit-pat towards my room. I keep my eyes closed. I am not ready to get up. I absorb the sound of his soles on the wood floors. It is delicious.
"Mama? I want to snuggle."
I open my eyes to his face - full and round - peering over the edge of the bed, one hand grasping for a hold on the slippery sheets. I reach my hand out and he takes it.
Now his head is on my tummy. He looks at me with his large blue eyes. I look at him and smile. My thumb runs across his cheek and through his hair. He smiles dreamily back.
This is a newer stage for him...this kind of lovely moment...this stillness.
"Tell me about the drive to the hospital."
Ah...this interest in his birth. As we have prepared our hearts and his for the arrival of a new baby, his love of hearing his own story has blossomed. He sits up, watching my face intently, as I begin.
"Well, we were at our home when we got the call that you were born. And we were so excited! We couldn't stop smiling! Papa put our things in the car and began to drive to the hospital. It was a long drive - you were born in a town that was four hours away from us. We talked about you the whole way. We talked about your name. We wondered...what special name could we give to such a special boy? We tried out many names. And the best name for you was Benjamin. You would be our baby Benjamin.
And it snowed when you were born. Did you know that? (He does - he likes that part.) You were born in winter, in a land where the snow comes down. It snowed as we drove to the hospital. Did I mention, we couldn't stop smiling?
Then we got to the hospital. We parked the car and went in the wide glass doors. It was a big hospital with many rooms and we had to find you. We walked down the halls and rode the elevators until we got to the right room. And when we went in, we saw Emma holding you, and Kevin by her side. And they said...do you want to hold your son? And we did! We held you for the first time! And we were so happy! You were our beautiful baby Benjamin!"
Sometimes we talk about adoption and how he grew in Emma's tummy and how God loves him and has a plan - a plan that meant he would grow up in our family. How Emma and Kevin are very special people to have recognized that God wanted him to have Mama and Papa as his Mama and Papa. How he has extra love in his life from Emma and Kevin and their families. We will talk about the significance of his middle name, the one meaning beloved, the one his birth parents chose for him. We will explain the beautiful ceremony that accompanied our receiving of him and our driving home to place him in his bassinet.
But this morning, the story he wants to hear is the part about how Mama and Papa discovered him. Crossed a great distance to get to him. How we picked his name. How it snowed. These are the details that matter as he contemplates meeting his baby sister one day soon. He wants assurance that he was waited for eagerly.
Just yesterday, as I organized a box of his special papers - hospital items from his birth, all the letters and cards he has received from biological and adoptive family members, keepsakes and such - he spotted a photo from the entrustment ceremony. Sometimes birth parents arrange this - to have a simple ceremony witnessed by family and close friends, where they officially hand over the child to the adoptive parents. Words are said, music is played, gifts are given, and the child enters his new family. This is how we received Benjamin.
"What is this, Mama?"
"That is you, all wrapped up in the special blanket that Emma made for you. You were so tiny! Papa called you a blue football, you were so tiny and all wrapped up."
We have spoken of this special blanket - the quilted bit of warmth where she embroidered the word LOVE in both her handwriting and Kevin's. But it is something he has only recently been able to comprehend.
Suddenly, he runs off. Gone for a moment, he then returns, dragging this blanket from one hand. He tosses it on my lap.
"Here. Hold me like a baby, Mama...in this blanket."
I wrap the blanket around his shoulders, it is no longer able to contain the whole of him. I hold his head, his shoulders, his arms close...his legs extend out on the floor. I rock him. He looks around the room with the foggy gaze of a newborn.
This is my boy, with his desire to understand how he was once a baby who was anticipated and held and rocked. This is my boy. Let us tell his precious story.
