A Chance

Kori, my Letters For You guest today is the assignment editor for SheKnows.com’s Parenting Channel and my infertility column assignment editor.

Kori and her husband have adopted four children from foster care.

Little G is one. She took a chance on her parents and is now a very important and very loved member of a family.

To my darling daughter,

You came to us at just shy of 7 months old. You were oh so small, so weak and a little sickly. You weren’t thrilled at all about being here. Who could blame you? We were your fifth family in your short life and you were so tired of moving; you just wanted a home. You wanted someone to love you.

As the weeks and months passed, each day you woke up as happy as can be. Always laughing. Always happy. Always content.

And though no one would know it, I wasn’t sure that you would ever love us.

You wouldn’t let us hold you close. Yes, you were content to sit on my lap or play on the floor by my side or be carried around the house. You would smile and giggle, and sometimes even laugh a big belly laugh. But if I wanted to pull you close to my chest — to hold you, to comfort you, to love you — you’d push away. You’d push with all the power in your tiny arms and legs.

You didn’t want to be close to me, to Daddy or to anyone.

Even though you were still shy of a year old, you had figured out that you shouldn’t get close to people so fast. Why should you? I’m sure you thought we might leave you and pass you off to the next family.

And so our lives went on, day by day without issue. You were happy from the time you woke in the morning until you slept at night. You were much quieter than the rest of our kids — and let’s be honest, you were much better behaved. And then one night, we decided to leave all of you with a sitter while we took a class just a few steps away. Even though you had been in our family for many months, this would be your first time away from us since the day we met.

Not one hour into the class, you couldn’t take it anymore. The always-happy little one was now a crying — no — a bawling mess. When I scooped you up to take you home, your sobs were uncontrollable. Your whole body was shaking and you couldn’t catch your breath.

You cried for hours long after we were back home. When Daddy put you to sleep in your crib, you were still sobbing. Moments after he closed the door, your sobs turned to bloodcurdling screams. And soon, we had you back downstairs with us again. We sat on the floor playing with you and soon your tears turned to laughter and then night turned to early morn. Finally, you fell to sleep and all was well.

I knew that you had cried because you didn’t want us to leave — and secretly, that made me a little happy.

Over the next few days and weeks things changed. The baby who pushed me away so strongly, now wasn’t pushing so hard, and gradually, I began to believe you might really love us.

Now that little, weak, happy (yet apprehensive) baby isn’t a baby anymore. You are now my big, beautiful 3-year-old girl. You love getting big hugs, sitting on mommy’s lap at the computer and climbing all over Daddy on the floor. We can pull you close… very close. And you don’t even slightly wriggle to get away.

And now, nearly three years since you arrived in our family, without a doubt, I know that you love us.

Anyway, little G. I just wanted to say one thing… thanks for giving us a chance.

Love,
Mommy

Follow Kori on Twitter and if you’re a San Antonio Spurs fan, be sure to check out her SpursTalk site.

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