The first is May 23…the day I officially adopted her when she was six months old. Of course, she had already been mine from the very beginning. I was in the birthing room. I cut her cord. I held her from day one.
My heart had chosen her long before the paperwork caught up.
But May 23 is still sacred to me. It is the day the world officially recognized what my soul already knew:
She was my daughter.
Then came July 9.
After Doug and I were married, he officially adopted her too.
Seven years ago, a dream came through for him; the chance not merely to love her, care for her, and help raise her, but to become her dad in every legal and lasting sense of the word.
So July 9 became her second Love Day.
This year, Dad celebrated her with the most perfectly Tatum gift possible: a Target gift card.
Her home away from home.
The card said, “You are one of my favorite humans on this big blue and green ball.”
“Wow. Seven years ago a dream came through for me—to adopt you! I’m so glad to be your Dad!”
There are some words that hold far more than the PENCIL (I love that he writes in pencil so he doesn’t make a perm. mistake).
That morning, I had to go to Mayo Clinic. It was one of those harder days…the kind filled with appointments, uncertainty, and the weight of a body that has demanded so much attention. The Mayo bracelet around my wrist was not exactly how I imagined beginning Love Day.
And then there was Rio, bright yellow and full of personality, showing up like a tiny beam of sunshine. That little bird has a way of brightening everything without even trying.
Maybe that is what love does too.
It does not always remove the difficult parts of the day, but it reminds us that the hard is not the whole story.
July 9th is official, but the truth is, Dad chooses her every day.
Happy Love Day, Tot.
You are one of our very favorite humans on this big blue and green ball.
