Espy Grace

 My dearest Espy Grace,

Where do I begin? Do I tell you about the waiting, the longing, the hoping, and the grieving that preceded you? As soon as you are in my arms, I know those feelings will become distant memories. There will come a day when I hardly remember who this person is-- the not-yet-mother who has ached and longed and prayed for years. 

Sitting at this table in a coffee shop, awaiting a phone call in the coming days-- a phone call that possesses unique dichotomous power in separating the before and the after, a phone call announcing your arrival in this world. 

My sweet, Espy Grace, in His Gospel, Luke reflects that Mary, the mother of Jesus, treasured and pondered the arrival and worship of her son within her heart. This verse has resonated in my mind the past three days, since I learned that your grandfather selected your father and me to be your parents. Regardless of the racing questions and the present uncertainties, your grandfather will always possess a seat at my heart's table because he has given me a gift that no one else could-- he gave me you. He chose me. He cried as he embraced me when we first met, and he repeated a promise that I had nearly abandoned. When he promised motherhood, it no longer felt painful or naive. His promise spoke to a hope that I buried deep inside years ago. I thought that the soil inside me must have turned to dust and choked the dream before it could take root. Then, your grandfather chose us, and the dormant seed blossomed at his word. 

There will come a day when you and I both need this reminder... a reminder from the not-yet-mother sitting at a coffee shop awaiting a phone call: You are desperately wanted and loved, my sweet Espy Grace, and nothing can change that. 

I have ached for so long and waded into the dark, believing that the dormant seed of hope was dead because of some fault of my own. The truth is God has been at work in the waiting, and He knew you long before last Thursday. He knew you would be mine, and I would be yours before either of us existed on this earth.

 I am yours, Espy Grace. I belong to your laughter and your tears. I belong to your dreams and your anxieties. I am found in all of it because that's what love does. It tethers the emotions and experiences of one to another. Your father and I share that love, and we have been waiting to tether ourselves to you.

A cord of three strands is not easily broken (Ecclesiastes 4:12). No matter what the future holds, my Espy Grace, your father and I are here-- carefully braided to you, distributing any burdens between us. 

The beauty of our adoption story is not that we chose you, but that we were chosen to be yours, and it is an honor and privilege that I will treasure and ponder in my heart for the rest of my life. 

My sweet Espy, you are the miracle I desperately needed, and I wish I could keep a bottle of my gratitude to dispense on the days I need reminding.

I love you, my Espy Grace. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.

I love you. 

Your Soon-To-Be-Mother Impatiently Waiting On a Phone Call at a Coffee Shop