Introducing Strawbaby

“Is she having a seizure?” Miguel’s eyes were darting from the rear view mirror to the road in front of him.

I looked to the backseat. Her eyes were glazed over, she wasn’t responding to her name.

“Jackson, will you squeeze her hand?” I asked.

“She squeezed back!”

“Ok, so probably not a seizure, just, you know, life-shattering trauma.”

Over the next 18 hours, she wouldn’t take any food or drink from us. She only responded to yes or no questions and even then, sparingly. It wasn’t until breakfast the next morning that she seemed to even register our existence. 

“Strawbabies!” She exclaimed pointing at a bowl of strawberries at the hotel’s breakfast buffet.

Nestled into a booth in the generic hotel lobby, this little girl, who we had known for less than 24 hours, proceeded to devour two bowls of fruit loops with a large side of strawbabies. 

———

One phone call. 

That’s all it takes to divide time into before and after. 

It was the phone call when Miguel told me that he thought Adelaide had just had a seizure.

It was the phone call when Miguel found out he booked Hamilton.

It was the phone call from the hospital telling me that Adelaide had infantile spasms.

It was the phone call to my mom asking her to come to Chicago because we didn’t know how much longer Adelaide would be with us.

It was the phone call offering Miguel Hamilton on Broadway.

And it was the phone call letting us know that there was a little girl who was in need of a new family.

It was November 1st and Miguel, Jackson and I were on the way to the New York Stock Exchange to ring the closing bell with CURE Epilepsy in honor of epilepsy awareness month. This little girl lived in Texas, not Colombia as we had been planning. In fact, this little girl had not been part of our plan at all. After countless additional phone calls over the next four days, we found ourselves sitting in a child protective services conference room signing papers before driving away with who, one day soon, will become our legal daughter. 

Emotionally, though, she is already ours. 

Given the circumstances preceding her coming into our lives, I will not be sharing her story or how we came to receive that November 1st phone call. Both for her safety and well-being, but mostly because it is not my story to tell.

The only reason I feel comfortable sharing her existence now is because on Monday we were awarded legal custody and I just can’t help but scream our joy from the rooftops… or, you know, my keyboard. We will be filing for adoption in the next couple months and then the legal documents will match what we’ve already established in our hearts.

We are playing this all by ear and with extreme caution. You will not see her face or learn her name until we are certain that it is safe to do so. 

I know there is an urge to say how lucky she is to have found her way to our family. Or how lucky we are to have had her fall into our laps. But for our family to grow, her birth family had to fall apart and there is nothing lucky about that. While there is no doubt that we will be able to provide her with the love, support and future that would have been previously unavailable to her - it is also important to acknowledge the sacrifices and broken hearts that paved the way.

None of that though, diminishes the unadulterated joy she bring into our life. She is pure bottled sunshine and I remain in daily disbelief at how well she is adjusting to her new life with our family. 

Last week we celebrated her third birthday - and to this day she is still greeting most people she sees by telling them, “hatty birtday!” The week before that she started preschool, we both cried at drop-off the first few days, but now she gives me a hug and runs off to join her teachers… I may or may not still cry a little in the car on the way home.

We are bonding and growing, learning and adjusting, navigating and reflecting. It hasn’t been easy and I never expected that it would be - parenting, regardless of how the child comes into your family, never is. What I will say though, is that we have laughed and danced more in the last four months than we did in the previous three years combined.

There is so much more I want to say and share but, for now, it is with the humblest heart I introduce you to the greatest gift we will ever receive, our Strawbaby.