Today, you turn three years old. I well up with tears just thinking at the immense joy you have brought us these last three years. By your birth, you filled in us a longing that ached so profoundly. You filled our arms. You made us parents.
Son, you were chosen before the dawn of humanity to be ours. We believe God destined you to be ours from the very beginning. And His perfect plan was that you would be placed in another woman’s belly, but would be called ours.
I still remember the chills that ran up and down my spine when your birthmom asked us what name we had picked for a girl. We said Hanna. Her reply? That is her last name. And then the second set of chills when she asked us what name we had picked for a boy. We said Brae. Her reply? Her middle name is Rae.
You were meant for us.
I am so thankful to your birthmom and can never repay her for the gift she gave us: you. She took care of you from inception until birth and then out of an incredible act of love, handed you to us.
Son, Mommy and Daddy were there at your birth. We held your birthmom’s hand as she pushed you out. Mommy cut your cord. We kissed you in all your nakie glory, weeping.
One day, I know you will understand what all of this “adoption stuff” is, and that you will likely have a lot of questions. We will be ready and willing to answer all of them.
Giving birth doesn’t define what it means to be a parent. Genetics doesn’t define what it means to be a parent.
Son, as you read this one day, know that we loved you before we even knew who you were. You may have been placed in someone else’s belly, but you grew in our hearts until we could hold you in our arms.
You can never lose our love.
In honor of the gift your birthmom gave to us, and in honor of your special day, we dedicate to you “Your Own” by Nate Huss.
Happy birthday, baby boy.
— Mommy and Daddy