Love

It's Valentine's week.  I love this week.  Next to Christmas, it has become one of my favorite times of the year. 

I love that we take a little extra time to think about the special people in our lives.  I love that people put aside petty differences and focus on the positive - even if it is only for one day.

More than that, I love this week because I take extra time to remember the events surrounding my son's birth and adoption, which occurred during Valentine's week.

The big events, such as the flight half-way across the country, his birth, and finally coming home, are etched forever in my mind.  But the "little things" sometimes take a bit more work. 

And the little things are what made the experience so amazing.  Little things like....

...the fact that mapquest told us our destination was 59 miles from the airport.  We naively assumed this meant about 59 minutes of driving.  We obviously weren't in Kansas anymore.

...the rental company that completely messed up our reservation for a mini-van.  Although it was only the 2 of us at first, soon to be 3, our mothers and son were coming to join us in 5 short days.  We ended up with the oldest, ugliest van that rental companies are allowed to own. 

...being pulled over for not having our lights on.  We were so used to automatic headlights that we hadn't turned them on.  The very loving officer said, "don't they teach you how to use headlights in Kansas?"  Very professional.

...trying to figure out what we were going to say when we met our son's birthmother for the first time in person.  Would she take one look at us and think she made a mistake?  What does one say in this awkward moment? What if she changed her mind?

...going to check in at the hospital and being told that they were completely full.  Forty-eight hours earlier they had assured us that we would have a room so we could stay with our baby.  "The only way we wouldn't have a room is if we were full, but that almost never happens..." 

...coming back to the hospital after we ate and finding her room empty.  When we asked where she had been moved to, we were told they didn't have anyone there by that name.  After a moment of immense panic, we realized that they were doing their job of protecting her identity and privacy.  An angel of a nurse recognized us and gave us clearance to go see her.

....waiting in the hospital front lobby for 9 agonizing hours.  It's just as difficult, if not more, than childbirth.

...being convinced that our baby was going to be born with a cleft palate.  I had a dream about it the night before, and then I read an adoption story about it during those 9 hours of waiting. I was sure God was preparing me.  We would have loved him just as much, but I was very relieved when his birth-grandfather came out and said, "he is perfect.  Ten perfect fingers and ten perfect toes.  Perfect everywhere."

Perfect. 

Perfectly stressful.  Perfectly wonderful.  All at the same time. 

Exactly six years ago tonight we were sitting in a hospital room with our newborn son, his birthmother, and her parents, eating pizza like it was the most normal and natural arrangement in the world. 

The next morning we would be dismissed and go our separate ways. 

I still don't know how she did it.  The selfless love was indescribable.

Sacrificial, perfect, unselfish love.