When Your Son Is 7,000 Miles Away

We don’t have a cable service, so very few commercials make their way into our home. Years ago, though, before I took on the title of “Mama,” I saw a commercial that made a lasting impact. I don’t remember where I was or when I saw it, but I remember who made it…


I mean, of course it’s Google, right? Google is everywhere!

Maybe you remember it.

It was just a computer screen opened to an email inbox. You quickly learn a dad has set up an email for his newborn daughter, and he’s writing emails to her future self. First birthday, new sibling, ski trip, etc.

(OK, I Googled [of course] and found a link to the “Dear Sophie” Google Chrome ad.)

I remember thinking, “I’ll do that when I have children! It’ll be so sweet to record my thoughts as my children grow!”

And, surprisingly, I followed through and did it! Both of my children have email addresses, and I plan to continue writing to them until they’re–oh, I don’t know–18? Maybe? We’ll see how this thing goes. I mean, I did take a yearlong break already, so, again, we’ll see.

I love the idea, though. I’m not going to sit down and hand-write a journal. I learned that when I was about 12 and had a stack of journals with only the first page filled in. Typing is so much easier and more convenient these days.

Well, yesterday I decided to create an email account for our soon-to-be-adopted son. But for him, there’s a deeper reason, beyond the reasons I created accounts for my two biological children. I want my two kiddos to hear about how silly they are at 3 and 5. I send them pictures of things they make. I sometimes mention the things they do that frustrate the stew outta me.

But for our second son, I’m creating part of his story. He’s in China right now, and I can’t hold him and sing to him. I can’t rock him to sleep and wipe away his tears. My story is happening in America, and his is happening thousands of miles away. I may never get to meet his 2-year-old self.

And I have zero control over any of that.

But I can start the narrative, our narrative. I can tell his future self how I feel right now. In case he ever has any doubts, he can one day look back and see that his mommy wanted him before she even met him. How she prayed for him. How she assembled his crib. How she filled out every form and waded through all the red tape to get to him. How she missed him even before she knew him.

I want him to know me even before he meets me, which means I need to carve out some time and share my heart right now.

Adoption Update: We’ve gotten through paperwork until we hit the wall where we need visas, which aren’t being issued right now. We’re now waiting with hundreds of other parents for news regarding travel dates and flight openings.

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Currently Reading:
Tweet Cute by Emma Lord – OK, I haven’t actually started reading yet, but I’ve heard good things. I’m apparently on a young-adult kick. Late last night I finished Ashley Poston’s Geekarella, which was a super-cute retelling of Cinderella. It’s for anyone who loves nerdy fandoms and can catch a lot of the references (think cons, Star TrekThe Princess Bride, etc.) Actually, it reminded me of one of my favorite YA novels, Lily Anderson’s The Only Thing Worse Than You Is Me.

Published by Christine Boatwright


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