I wanted it to be sooner, this real cyber unveiling of our girl. But I was unsure of wether I was allowed to post pics of her at all. Am unsure still, but am going ahead. Was planning on that anyway, until I received an email this afternoon that rocked me. Photos of our girl with her lip fixed. Maybe the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. And I put my head down on my desk and cried. Out of relief-four weeks have gone by since her surgery. Four weeks of looking with increasing fear for proof that she was ok. Out of thanks-for Father who has had her in his hand since before she breathed life and who ordained this all in his perfect plan and timing. Out of joy-that she looks so good, so happy. For that smile that reaches her eyes in a way it didn’t, couldn’t, before. And, I’ll admit, out of sadness. When I played out meeting my girl for the first time I pictured what it would be like to hold her teeny body in my arms and kiss that sweet mouth. I imagined I would feel her teeth against my lip, would taste her gums, would have to get used to the sensation of kissing a mouth like hers. And I knew it would prolly take me about three seconds to do so. I have seen movies of her. When she moves her mouth her little teeth peek out of her cleft and it makes my heart melt. When I dreamed of meeting her, I dreamed of these things. And I dreamed of holding her in our hospital while she drifted off and then having her put back in my waiting arms while she woke up from her surgery. Pictured us being the first to see her new mouth, but only after we’d fallen more deeply in love with the original one. And even though I realize how very weird it is to mourn these things, I do.
Because Father ordained that her story would be written this way: without a mama to hold her as she goes through surgery, but that I would be subbed out by a wonderful staff worker from the Peace House. That we would fall for her regardless of what she looks like, our family too. That she would be a fighter. The name we’ve chosen for her means mighty in battle. This teeny fighter; she is something fierce.
But the overriding emotion I feel is just deep, deep joy. Because on top of a successful surgery, I skipped right down to scan for numbers and there it was: in a month and a half at the Peace House, she gained five pounds. Five. Pounds. That’s a quarter of her weight, y’all. It’s huge. And I can see it in those cheeks that I’m now longing more than ever to nibble on. When I charted her new weight and cheered upon seeing she’s actually on it: 5th percentile, peter pumped his fist and whispered, “Yes!”. Man, this can’t go fast enough. Father, make us patient. Help us to really, really believe that your timing is perfect.
I wish now I’d posted pictures of her weeks ago. Had swallowed past my fear that China would see and think we were encroaching and punish us somehow. Because I wish the first glimpses of her you were seeing weren’t of her post-surgery, but pre. When you could fall for her like we did with those wonky teef and sweet, yummy lip. And if I could figure out how to post these darn things you’d be skipping all my words and just soaking her in. Our warrior. Thank you Father.
This is me being real. Waiting for my IT guy to get home from work so he can figure out how to get these darn pics on here before I bust.