Atkinson Family Addition

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...

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...