December 2nd is a special day in our family's history, though it's not one we often think about.
Seven years ago today, at about 11:30 p.m., my water broke at 37w4d of pregnancy. We were a bit surprised since everyone kept telling me "First babies are always late!". I'd even started to believe them despite my long-held belief that my baby was going to come early. Patrick was born 16 hours later, and made us parents for the very first time.
Three years ago today, I sent an e-mail to our case person at our adoption agency. We'd just had to turn down our first referral for medical reasons a week or so earlier. She had said that when we were ready, there was another little boy she'd like to tell us about. We waited through the weekend to decide if our hearts were ready to take that chance again. On December 2nd, I e-mailed her and said that we'd like to hear about him. She called the next day to tell us about a little boy, just 2 weeks past his first birthday, named Melkamu Delelegn.
It's not a day we celebrate. It's not a day we really even mention in the course of things. But it holds a special place for our family.