I saw the most adorable baby in church the other day. She's four months old, but so alert with these wise-looking eyes and the most beautiful chocolate-colored skin. I longed to ask her mother if I could hold her, but I didn't.
A family of four, a boy and a girl, this is what most outsiders will see when they look at us, a statistically "perfect" family (read what I think about that here). But I can't help feeling that somewhere out there is a little black girl who is meant to be my daughter. Maybe I'm just missing SB. Maybe my heart thinks that having another adopted daughter will fill up the hole left by N and J, quieting my feelings of failure. I don't really know where the feeling comes from, but it is there all the same. Like the girl says in the movie A Walk in the Clouds, "The heart wants what the heart wants."
I have always been a planner, an achiever. Since college or before, I had a very specific vision for my life as a mother - two biological children and two adopted. Us being a family of four was supposed to be the beginning, not the end. But if all goes well, I am having my tubes tied the day after Robin is born. We are done. This is not the road I planned on taking. This is not where I expected my life to be. But here I am and some choices cannot be undone.
My little black heart daughter will forever stay somewhere out there.
Unless God steps in.
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