"We wanted you more than anything."
When I got home from yoga class last night (around 8:30 or so), my daughter was in bed, reading. I went in to give her a kiss and tuck her in. As I got closer, I noticed a tear sliding down her cheek. Then I saw what she was reading. It was the storybook I made a few years ago when we had the big adoption talk with her. "Why are you crying, sweet girl?" I asked. I was almost afraid to ask, because I sensed that it wasn't the usual "Dad wouldn't take me to Dairy Queen" stuff. I inhaled slowly and held my breath for a moment. "Because I can't see J," she replied. Tears immediately sprang to my eyes. I scooped her up and held her in my arms, rubbing her back with one hand and smoothing her freshly-washed curls with the other. I told her that J, her birthmom, lives far away but that I'm sure she will see her someday. "If you want, you can write her a letter and I'll mail it to her," I offered. She nodded. I do have pe