Feven's Birthday Eve

I'm hit tonight by a flood of emotions, none of which I had expected to feel on the eve of Feven's birthday.  In the last few days I've been excited about the gift we're making her, the day we'll spend together as a family, the birthday gathering we'll have for her next week with our parents...but tonight my focus has shifted.  Tonight Feven's birth mother is on my mind.

11pm here...7am in Ethiopia.  As she wakes up is she thinking about Feven?  Is she remembering the labor pains from two years ago?  The first time she gazed upon Feven's sweet face?  Is she remembering how it felt to hold that little baby, to touch those tiny fingers and tickle those toes?  Does she remember the first time she called her by name, "Feven," and that little face turned to meet the eyes of the one whose voice she knew from 9 months in the womb?

My heart is weeping for the brokenness of the world.  It should be her birth mom who greets her with a hug and a kiss on her birthday morning.  It should be her birth mom who retells Feven the story of her birth.  It should be her birth mom by her side all day long.

But it's not.  It's me.  And while I feel honored and grateful to be the one to share this special day with Feven, I am also hurting for the reasons that brought her here.  I never knew that pain and joy could become so intertwined.