Joy and Pain

As I gaze endlessly at an 8x10 computer generated copy of sweet Benjaminh relaxing in a hammock I feel intense joy. At times over-whelming. I stare at a photo of tiny curled toes and long slender fingers. Imagine his little elfin ear hiding behing his raised arm. Dream about his baby smile and belly giggle. I know the details of this new picture. Finger tips woven through the bright green mesh. This sweet 3 month old baby boy.

I know every detail of the other 12 pictures as well. The early pictures. The little red cumberbund tied around his 19 day old middle. His little sock covered hands. Tiny cheek scratches. A red eye that worried me for days before he was ever really mine to worry about.

The stork visited me at 9am today. In the school office. The stork delived my future right into my quivering hands.

And now, today, I know a few details of Benjaminh's story. I know exactly what I was doing at the moment Benjaminh lost his first family. I've read the documents that set out a chain of events in black and white. Benjaminh's chain of life. Benjaminh's story to tell, someday, if he wants to.

While I sit here feeling intense joy I simultaneously sit here imagining the unbeliveable pain of a birth family on the other side of the world.

Joy and pain, tears of happiness and sorrow, wrapped up tight in a 4.7 kilo package.