My daughter catches me by surprise when she asks me over good night kisses, “mom, what was my birth mother like?” Her birthday triggers these thoughts and I wonder if a woman on the other side of the world is drawn to thoughts of her long gone daughter on this ninth birthday. There is so much we don’t know. We don’t know the circumstances around her birth, or why she was given up. We don’t know what her mother looked like, or how old she was. And she wonders “who else is in the family” and “what it’s like to live there (China).”
And I’m caught off guard with these questions, as if I didn’t have nine years to prepare for them. And I fumble and I pray and I don’t know all the words to say.
Where do we go when we just don’t know? When we feel like we are flying blind in this parenting role and we’re afraid of failing at the one job that we cannot fail at? (continue reading here, where I have been inspired and encouraged by a new friend’s blog about faith, motherhood, and adoption)