I’m told that my daughter Olivia reached each of her early milestones on time. She’s healthy and robust, so I assume that it’s true. The first time she rolled over, sat up, grew a tooth. Said a word, took a step, or blew out a birthday candle. I was told it all happened, but I don’t know for sure. Like many adoptive parents, I wasn’t there for any of it.

My husband and I were luckier than most. We started Olivia’s adoption in 2002, and during those days in Guatemala, adoptive parents were allowed to visit. And visit we did, as often as we could. Over Labor Day, Thanksgiving, Christmas, President’s Day, and Fourth of July. Our daughter’s foster parents, who loved Olivia and whom Olivia loved, brought her to the hotel where we were staying and reported on what we had missed. “She’s holding the bottle by herself,” her foster mother said. “She can pick up Cheerios. She likes to roll a ball. She knows how to clap her hands.” And there would be Olivia, baby teeth grown in, pulling herself up, babbling. Each time we saw her, she seemed to be the big sister of the baby we had left behind the visit before. (more…)

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