celebration

I will always remember the first time I laid eyes on Micah.

I entered the NICU through large glass doors. Jody, the adoption counselor, explained he was here as a precautionary measure due to swallowing some amniotic fluid during birth. His oxygen levels had to be monitored for a few days.

I hadn’t taken more than a few steps when I noticed an elderly man in a rocking chair. He was cradling a baby, wrapped in a white blanket, in his arms.

“Go on. Go meet your son,” Jody urged me.

I stepped forward and noticed a perfectly shaped little head. He looked healthy and, at 9 pounds 4 ounces, it seemed strange for him to be here with the tiniest of babies, some who were fighting for their lives. Later I’d chuckle when I learned that the nurses had dubbed him ‘big man on campus.’

Here in front of me, in the arms of this kindly white-haired volunteer, was the child we had prayed for. A child who would be adopted into our family as a son, a brother, a grandson, a cousin, a nephew.

Here was a moment of beauty and gratitude.

Here was our beautiful boy.

Last week we celebrated big. It was Micah’s sixteenth birthday. We had a party with friends and balloons and chocolate birthday cake with little Spiderman figurines and sprinkles. We had a family dinner out and showered him with presents. We celebrated our wonderful son who loves Disney movies and superheroes, music, theater, taking care of our daughter’s dogs, and jet skiing on the lake with Todd. We celebrated this beautiful boy who loves going places and being around others.

We celebrated an amazing life that has given us an abundance of joy, happiness–and oh so much purpose.