We had been separated with the babe whom we were forced to “return” for three months. After spending months together as a family, I found myself aching, not knowing what she was doing, if she was ok, if she ate breakfast and brushed her teeth. Everything I did with my son reminded me even more of the things I couldn’t do with her. I regretted so much the moments that I had taken for granted while we were together.
On her birthday I reached out again. I just wanted to know if she was ok. I offered to provide help to her in any way they needed, even if we couldn’t be a family. One thing lead to another and the next thing I know, she was on a plane to come for a visit. She arrived Christmas morning and it was the best we had. Every day over the next week, we played hard, laughed harder, and thoroughly enjoyed our time together. And then she was gone again. But this time, we were hopeful and cautiously excited for the possibility of bringing her home for good. All we could do was wait and pray.