13

The first thing Noah asked me when we got the restaurant for his birthday lunch today was, "Mom do you know what time I was born?" My heart sank because I wish I could answer that question but unfortunately I can't, and probably never will. All I know is he was born December, 16th, 2004 to a young girl and her much older boyfriend, in a hospital just over the Texas/Mexico border.

Every year on my own birthday, my parents tell me the story of the day I was born. They talk about all the friends and family who came to the hospital to greet and hold me and how they clapped as I was presented to them. It warms my heart thinking about how cherished and loved I was when I entered the world, apart of a huge family that loved me the minute they saw me, and even before. That's the way it should be for all children, but sadly that is not the case. I can't speak for my son's experience because I wasn't there. But knowing the circumstances surrounding his first family, I don't imagine it was a very joyous occasion. Was he loved? Possibly, yet I can't be certain. But cherished, he was not. The three years with his birth family that followed were marred with abuse, neglect, and abandonment. Then when he was in foster care he endured six more years of empty promises, instability, and more maltreatment.  So the words written on my sons heart from the very beginning were, "We don't love you, we won't keep you safe, you don't exist, and you're just another file on a caseworkers desk." Certainly not what any child deserves.

Fast forward to October 19th, 2013. I saw two little boys waiting for a balloon artist to make them swords at an adoption match event. I asked their names and they told me. Noah looked at me with the sweetest bashful smile and brown eyes with long eyelashes, then looked away, cheeks red with embarrassment. My heart leapt!! THESE ARE MY BABIES! I FINALLY FOUND THEM! It took me a year and a half of searching and preparing for them and here they were before me. I knew it instantly. Bob and I knew it before we even got out of bed that morning, something special was in the air.

June 2nd, 2014 at around 10am, we signed placement paperwork to officially have them come live in our home. November 18th, 2014 at approximately 10am, we finalized our adoption with the boys over the phone with a South Texas judge. And it has been one heck of a ride since! Noah in particular has been especially tough. It's hard to erase what shouldn't and rewrite what should have been on his heart in the first place. It's like erasing pencil; the visible marks are gone, but there's still outlines, smudges and residue on the page from the hurt and pain that only Jesus can wash. So we have no choice but to turn the page and start new with him; creating new memories and new words. I haven't been the mom I thought I would be, and that has been a bittersweet awakening. Unfortunately the love I knew and grew up with wasn't and still isn't enough for Noah, it's like a whole different language to him. He has required me to grow in a strength I never knew existed. To trust that God could make me into the mom Noah needed, instead of the fairytale mom I had in my head.  The last 3.5 years since he came to be our son have been up and down but I can tell you that watching him go from sad, tortured, and belonging to no one, to being able to smile and enjoy what it means to be a Biffel has been the single most amazing thing I've ever been apart of. No, we are not perfect parents but this boy, this now 13yo boy is loved, cherished, wanted, and is above all, safe! He is growing up into the healed man God ordained him to be as he is exchanging his ashes for beauty every day. He is not a mistake, he is a BLESSING to us and I can't wait to see the man he grows up to be.

Happy 13th Birthday, Noah. I may not know the time you were born, but I know when I first saw you, when you came to live with me, and the time when you officially became my son. I love you with all of my heart and will always be here for you.

~Hannah