A stolen heart

It's almost been a month since we got our referral; a much awaited day. Since then, I haven't stopped looking at the pictures of our baby boy. I want to memorize every thing about this sweet child. I want to be able to walk in to the transition house and recognize him instantly. I am so in love with his sweet eyes, the messy hair, the pudgy little nose, the pinch-able cheeks, everything about this precious child brings joy to my heart.

The past few weeks have been difficult. I want to hold my child; it's as if I gave birth and the doctor won't let me hold my baby. It is a bit torturing. I trust God has immaculate timing and I know there is a reason he has made us wait this long, but I am still eager to hold him. To love him. To kiss him. To hug him. To just whisper sweet nothings in his sweet little ears.

As torturing as it is to wait, it is also a joyful time for Anthony and I. We are both on cloud nine about baby boy. Every time my phone lights up in the morning I see his darling face shine on my home screen. Every time I turn log on to the computer his face appears in the back drop. And every time this happens we just sit in awe and admire this child, our son, our baby. It is overwhelming. My heart has definitely been stolen.