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One year

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A missed call and text. A tearful, laughter-filled, sweaty plane ride. An anxious trek across the city. A hospital room with an exhausted, yet adrenaline-filled mama, eager to share the story of your arrival with us. And then, you. A tiny, squishy baby, placed in my arms.  A little bottle to give you your first feeding. A pounding heart filled with awe. I can still smell the smells and hear the sounds.  The tiny cry.  The full head of dark hair. The long, wrinkly fingers. The teeny, squishy toes. My girl, I could never forget. Sarah Karnas Photography 365 days of never forgetting your sweet details. Your tiny cry has turned into a strong, determined voice. Your teeny fingers and toes have grown to carry you to explore all the world around you. And that full head of dark hair has grown into gorgeous curls, spiraling down.  365 days of loving you harder than I ever knew possible.  362 days of being your mama. For 72 ho
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Then, and Now.

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Tonight, after a bottle, our Etta girl snuggled up for some playful smooches and chats. We smiled and giggled at each other while the tears rolled down my cheeks. One year ago, Travis and I were sitting in this very same spot. But instead of a baby in our arms, we had an adoption binder with notes and handouts, a notebook filled with jotted details of things we didn’t want to forget, and a laptop open to some of the forums I had been following. We were preparing for “the call” with an expectant mama that had chosen us. Photo by Sarah Karnas Photography This year, we remember her. We remember how awkward we all started out in our conversation; how easily she got us to laugh; how comfortable we were with her from that very first call. We remember her excitement and pride in sharing the ultrasound pictures and updates with us; the weekend we visited and got to meet each other and grow our relationship. We remember the 4am phone call with anxious urgency; how she continued to ca
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I Believe

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During this season of Lenten reflection, our congregation is taking time to hear from one another. Each Wednesday evening, we read a different creed, discuss what resonates or challenges us, and hear from a different member their reflection. This past week, Travis and I shared a brief reflection of adoption and our faith. We began with the I Believe creed written by  Bruce Prewer, Minister of the Uniting Church in Australia: In spite of many unanswered questions, I believe. I believe in the living God, the joy of the universe,  who is the pulse and purpose of all things seen and unseen,  who from the dust of earth calls up living beings to be children of eternity,  who through countless ages has provided for us many liberators  and tirelessly seeks to bring victory out of defeat and life out of decay. I believe in Jesus the Christ, God’s true Son,  who is bone of our bone and flesh of our flesh,  who took upon himself the healing of the human race,  who b
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Together

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For Coretta’s first twelve (and a half) weeks of life, I was with her. Together in the hospital. Together in Nevada. And together here at home. The most time apart we spent, was a couple of hours-maybe a few times. I need her. I need to feel her head resting on my chest. I need to hear every coo, every cry, every sigh. I need her fingers wrapped around mine. I need to run my fingers through her gorgeous dark hair. I need to whisper in her ear. And I need to kiss her cheeks. So when our time was up, I couldn’t possibly prepare. For two weeks, I cried. I wanted to cherish every second of our fleeting time together. Every diaper change. Every bottle. Every massage. Every snuggle. And most intensely, every smile. I spent much of those final days just staring at her. Holding her gaze. Smiling at her through the tears pouring down my cheeks. Smiling and telling her how much I love her as those tears landed on her cheeks and head. I was terrified. But I was not terrified or s
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What's in a name?

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Coretta Neeley. For quite a while, we have kept a running document with names that we’ve liked. We would find them everywhere and anywhere: the credits after a movie or show; book characters and authors; family names. One of our favorite places: the church bulletin! We’d look at all the composers and writers (I think we added two names that way). When we found out that we were chosen and that the baby was a girl, our name search amped up. We had a long list of maybes but hadn’t yet decided on names we loved. While we were waiting, both of us seemed to be drawn to boy names: that list was extensive, had stars and notes by each of our favorites, and even had some middle name ideas. (We also learned that when your last name ends in -son, first names sound silly if they also end in -son.) In one of the very first conversations we had with Mama M, she asked us if we had a name picked out--which made us panic that we hadn’t even narrowed it down! During our July visit together, we knew
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Story

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I always imagined becoming a mom to be the most amazing, beautiful experience. I imagined happiness and basking in sunshine. I imagined only love and happiness. But that image isn’t how our story is being written. During the lengthy process of adoption, there were people in our lives that were noticeably absent; uninvolved; uninterested. People that we thought would be our supporters. Those pages weren’t written how we imagined. But there were others, who in the absence, stepped in and filled that void. They were involved; interested; and cheered us on. Those pages weren’t how we imagined; but they were filled with the grace of our God. When this sweet baby girl was a mere three days old, our beloved Pastor Stephanie texted us early that morning to say “My prayers are with you. God’s love surround you. May you all experience peace.”. She knew that 72 hours had passed and that Coretta’s Mama would be making a decision that wasn’t easy; it took deep thought and prayer; it to
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Leaving Floor 3

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After we spent as many hours as possible with baby girl, we arrived at the hospital on that final day. It was final because at 10am, her mama would be meeting with her Social Worker and attorney to make her decision to parent or place baby through adoption. After spending those two days together, we know M loves baby girl and would be a great parent to her if that were her choice. Our emotions were beyond intense. No matter the decision, we knew that our hearts would be hurting. No matter the decision, this baby girl was loved and would continue to be loved. No matter the decision, we had poured out every ounce of our hearts for the last 72 hours and wouldn’t regret that time. We were quiet, because no matter the decision, what comes next wouldn’t be easy. And then it was 11, and the social worker hadn’t arrived yet. And then it was 11:30, and the social worker still hadn’t arrived. My stomach was such a mess I had to take a walk to get ice and splash cool water on my face. I
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