So Damn Lucky

Dear Cupcake,

Fifteen days ago, Daddy and I met you for the first time. Before that, you were just this little person out there in the big cruel world, someone we had always been hoping to find but never thought we would.

Fifteen days ago, my coffee table was covered with junk mail and unopened bills. Since then, your Nana Robbie and Pop-Pop and Aunt Jaime have eradicated dirt on the molecular level so the house would be clean for you to crawl around in.

Fifteen days ago, Daddy and I were just about ready to bag this adoption business, to call the whole thing off, to accept that our childlessness was one of those things we could not change, to resign ourselves to being an aunt and an uncle and maybe a godparent once or twice.

Fifteen days ago, I had no idea that it was possible to fall so completely and utterly in love with someone with whom you have nothing in common except a willingness to be loved and to love in return, an eagerness to play and laugh together, a desire to find a place where we belong.

Fifteen days ago, Daddy was not capable of smiling like this, and now he is, and so am I, and so are your grandparents and your aunts and your cousins and everyone who's come in contact with you, who's been graced with your presence, who's been gifted with your smile. You did this to us and for us.

Fifteen days ago, I thought the best thing that might happen to me is that I would win the lottery and be able to quit my job and travel and maybe get a maid to rid my life of its protective layer of cat hair. I still want to do these things, but the best thing that has happened to me is that the cat hair has been covered with a crunchy Cheerio-crumb coating.

Fifteen days ago, Daddy and I never thought we could be so happy, so lucky, so whole. We were wrong, about all of it. Because fifteen days ago, we met you, and I can't believe how much everything has changed, all of it for the better. Except for maybe the Cheerios ...

... no, even the Cheerios.

Love you,
XOXOXO Mommy

PS -- Sorry about the missing switchplate in your room. We're working on it, pinky swear.