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Letters to Taylor: On Adoption
Our precious girl,
Words seem futile as all your body is capable of right now is breathing. But December 31, 2018 was such an epic day that I had to try to write this letter and read it to you before you make your heavenly entrance.
Since you were 3 years old, you’ve called my Matthew, “Daddy Matt.” The first day we met him at the zoo over 18 years ago, you were enamored. I think the feeling was mutual since Mama failed to bring a stroller and he carried you much of that little park adventure day.
I really can’t explain to you what happened to your relationship with your biological father. While it began strongly, circumstances changed over the years and gradually it faded. It’s been 10, almost 11 years, since he’s seen you and 4 years ago he signed over his guardianship rights over to me when you reached age 18. I can never answer for someone else’s choices and that’s not what this letter is about.
For 19 years, Daddy Matt has been your protector, provider, and playmate. His idea of fatherhood has nothing to do with blood and everything to do with emulating his heavenly Father. He has loved you and continues to love you unconditionally. He’s chased you in ballparks, carried you on Wish trips, cleaned up your messes, and cared for your every need. His love for you is unconditional and his heart is bigger than the moon.
When you became very ill two months ago and we thought we might lose you, both Daddy Matt and I began to think a little differently. And it bothered him to think that you would not bear his name. I suppose it never really bothered me because God knows who your daddy is on this earth. The opinions of others can’t compete with that. But after thinking it through, we decided to file adoption paperwork. We didn’t know how sick you were quickly going to become.
Then it came down to the wire. Two weeks ago when you landed in the hospital, I began making phone calls to try to get the adoption expedited. Each day last week, I thought that you would leave us for heaven and I was afraid to hope that the adoption would be finalized before you died. On last Friday, we paid fees we didn’t really have and made desperate phone calls, as well as prayed for the Lord to sustain you until Matt could make you his own by giving you his last name.
The guardian ad litem came to our home on Saturday and completed her report over the weekend. She submitted it Monday morning and at noon, we received a phone call that the magistrate would hold a hearing at 2pm. I literally felt like I was in another world or maybe a reality tv show. The kids piled in the van, Matt drove from work, all of us scrambled down to the courthouse, including two of your aunts who had just “happened” to come in town for a visit. God is so cool in the way he works details.
Just before we left the house, I whispered in your ear that we would be right back. That Daddy has some big news he’ll tell you when he gets home. And could you hold on for us until the hearing was over? I don’t know if you understood a single word I said, but I had to hope.
Remember that day when you were 6 and you wore a big sister shirt for the first time? You stood over Michael’s hospital baby bed and said, “This is Michael. I’m a big sister.” It wasn’t long after that that you lost all your words.
That baby brother stood tall beside the magistrate in her robe on Monday and after affirming his father’s love for you, he pounded the gavel with two miraculous, beautiful words:
I can’t help but sob as I type it. I know that disease has wrecked your life from the moment you were born into this world. But I also want you to know that love has rocked your world from the moment you were born. I’m wondering if that’s why you’re still holding on today. You know how much you are loved.
Go to Jesus, Taylor Wojnarowski.
I can hardly fathom it, but He loves you even more than we do.
Your Mommy & Daddy