Birth family

As my family anxiously awaits our referral, I can't help but think of our daughter's first family. Her birth mom and others if there are any. As much as we want to see her and know everything about her and bring her here, I wonder if there's another on the other side of the world who is doing everything she can to keep her there. A mother who carried her in her womb, loved her before she was birthed, and nurtured her ever since. Are circumstances so terrible that as much as she wants to care for her daughter, she can't? Or maybe it's a different scenario. Maybe our little girl has been abandoned out of fear or death. What is going on??? I'd love to know. But, I don't, and so I pray. A friend of mine, Julie, who has adopted a little boy several years ago, recently wrote a "dear birth mom" letter. It was published on Family Life's Mom Blog. I have attached it below. So touching!

Dear Birth Mom,
As I wake this morning and spend a few minutes alone, I know we are thinking about each other today. The day our son turns five years old. I don't know your name and you don't know mine. We have never seen a photo of each other, never exchanged a word, do not even know how to find each other. And before anyone else wakes up and the celebrating begins, I sit here in my living room crying in wonder for what I have received and grieving for what you have lost.
The orphanage did not have any information about you to share with us. But I tell our son what I do know about you. How you chose to carry him in your womb for nine months. How you felt him kick and squirm and stretch your belly. How you nurtured him for a month before taking him to the orphanage, where you knew he would be cared for. And though you could not leave a name or identifying information, you cared enough to leave a note with his birth date. How you loved him enough to let him go.
Oh, how I wish you could see him now. Kiss his chubby cheeks, run your hand over his spiky hair that sticks straight up. Watch him wrestle with his daddy and big brother on the floor. Snuggle up with his sister on the couch to hear a story. Watch him dress up in his black cowboy boots, red cape, yellow belt, and beat-up cowboy hat to transform into "Gooey Man," the bravest little superhero on the block. Listen to him belt out songs learned in Sunday school, making up words as he goes. See how much he is loved. When his older sister was five, she explained to our neighbor that our son did not grow in my belly—he grew in my heart.
The only way you can possibly understand how much I love this boy is to know the Father who adopted me. He also lovingly takes care of those who are alone, hurt, and needy. He calls me daughter, clothes and feeds me, gives me an inheritance, and loves me unconditionally. Please, oh please, allow Him to adopt you, too! For if we share that inheritance then we will finally be able to meet. One day, we can curl up on a heavenly couch with our son and catch up . You can tell me about the emotions you felt when you found out you were expecting him. I will know where he gets his wicked sense of humor, that little dimple, and his arresting smile. You will be able to hear his corny made-up jokes and laugh along with his infectious giggle. I will share about our journey to bring him home. We will have eternity to romp and play together with this miracle we both call "son."
I hear our little man yawning and stretching, and so I must go. But as I think of you today, I am sending up a prayer that we will some day celebrate our son's birthday together.
With love,
His Mama