Happy Birthday, Madelena

Yesterday Madelena had her first birthday, and I expected the day to be a tearful one for me as I imagined her with that little candle in front of her and her family thousands of miles away. But each time I imagined that scene I saw not our absence but the presence of others who love her — her foster mother and brother, both of whom have loved and cared for her since the first few days of her life. They have been there for her first coo, that first unsteady flip from her back to her tummy, the many times she pulled herself up on a table or chair only to fall again on her well-padded bottom. They have kissed her and hugged her and cooed to her for a year, holding her close and calming her in times of fear or stress, clapping and laughing with her in times of joy. And on this day, I knew they would celebrate her birth and her existence and her place in their lives and their home.

So I had no reason to cry on my daughter's birthday. My child is loved in two countries, and missed by two mothers — her young birth mother and her lifelong mother. All she knows is love and care and the joy of each new experience, and she is missing nothing on her birthday or any other day. She simply knows she is loved, and with that I am content.