No matter how beautifully we paint the adoption story, there is a lot of ache, peppered throughout the journey. 

I am unapologetically optimistic. My hope is in the Lord. But I still know full well that, the weeks to come, many tears will be shed. By our daughters, by us, by the foster family. 

For the rest of the pain, I don’t take much responsibility. I only acknowledge it. But the pain of removing my daughter from a place of healing, of peace, of love, even if we knew it was temporary, her leaving that home she knows well, where she was fostered, and cleaving to her forever family, is a messy process. 

Even so, we bring ourselves into the present. And listen to the wind. It carries with it spring fragrances, and a warm caress after months of frozen air.