What I'm Feeling Right Now

Dear Baby Anderson,

I've had several humored talks with friends about how there is an entire generation of children who are growing up on the internet, in front of the world's eyes. What would normally be a dusty photo album reserved for prom night and first dates and Thanksgiving trips home from college with the one you love, instead your friends and dates (and their parents) will be able to find you on the internet just by typing your name into Google. Believe it or not, there was a time before Google. A time before DVR, too, but we just won't go there. I know, I know....it's your generation's version of "I walked to school 8 miles, backwards, in the snow barefoot".

When I started blogging 3 years ago, I had no idea the direction it would take me. Or the people I would meet because of it, the stories I would hear, the dependency on it I would develop. Most of the time I speak to the readers, that small community that tunes in to hear about MY life. This kind of boasting will make you and your friends very self-involved, I'm sure.

But today, I'm speaking to you. I really, really hope one day my blogs will be like a diary for you. A chance to look back and see what crazy things your mom and dad said, what we did, how we felt, how our lives developed. Right now, I'm not even sure where you are. I don't know if you're still a twinkle in God's eye, or if you're already growing in another woman's belly. But wherever you are, you are in my heart and I'm overwhelmed with how that makes me feel.

Your dad and I are so early in this process of adoption, we may be years from meeting you. But I want to savor every minute of this uphill climb to get you. I want to remember what I'm feeling RIGHT NOW, before I've ever seen your smile or heard your cry or listened to you breathe. I cannot imagine what it will be like to finally bring you home.

I won't lie, I'm a little jealous that someone is going to know you before I do. But that's ok. Because you should feel so lucky to come into this world through so much love and sacrifice. Before I even know you're here, someone else loves you. Loves you enough to carry our heart's desire.

One day we'll tell you all about how much we wanted you. How we cried for years about how your room was empty. One day we'll tell you about how hard it was to be happy while your friends were being born and not know when you'd be here. One day we'll tell you how we would drive around just talking about what to name you, how your room would look, what school (ahem, OU) you would attend one day and how we need to start saving for it. One day we'll tell you how we imagined what you'd look like and what sports you would play and what books we'd read to you.

One day we'll tell you how we prayed for you for so long, and how as soon as we realized how God was going to put you in our arms, we prayed for the people that created you. As a friend recently told me, God knit you in the womb of your birthmom just for me and your dad. Instead of my womb, he grew you in my heart and I won't ever, ever be the same.

I don't even know you, but I'm overwhelmed with how much I love you. I want you to know that RIGHT NOW I'm thinking of you every day. Right now, I'm worrying about you. Right now, I'm getting anxious to hold you and cover you in kisses. Right now, your dad is figuring out how to pay for your soccer leagues and Gap clothes and video games and youth group mission trips and cell phones and Baby Einstein videos and bicycles and all those things you'll need as you grow up. He's also imagining all the things he wants to show you, like golf and airplanes and funny movies with fart jokes.

I hope you're here soon. But even if you're not, we can wait. At the center of our amazing, perfect family is God, and we'll tell you about him one day, too. He knows exactly when you'll be here, and we've learned to trust him.

We love you,
Mommy and Daddy