Missing the good stuff

Today my friend Cynthia stopped by with her precious two week old baby girl Lily Anna. I got to hold her for a little while and smell that sweet newborn baby hair and watch her teeny face wrinkle up as she dreamed her innocent dreams. As I looked down at her, I was sad for a moment. You see, Amelie will be anywhere from 9-18 months when we meet her. Sure, I am a little sad for David and I that we won't have the chance to have a newborn in our arms to call our own, but I am more sad for Amelie. She will have 9 or 12 or 15 or 18 months with no one to comfort her cries in the middle of the night, no one to kiss her boo boo's when she falls down, no one to take seious note of her first crawl or first step. Yes, she will have nannies to witness some of her first's, but no one will jot down the dates of these first's in a baby book. No one will take pictures of her firsts and frame them on the fridge or on the dresser. I know she will be loved by the nannies at the orphanage, but she just won't have all of the love and attention a baby needs and deserves that first year of her life. We'll just have to somehow make up for at all when she is home, safe with her forever mom and dad.