I wrote this on April 25, during my weekly holy hour. Though our transfer has come and gone (more on that later), I think these words are still relevant.
Dear little ones,
I pray for a chance to know you. I'll be honest, the mere possibility of three of you at once is terrifying. However, I trust in God's plans for all of us, for the making of our family.
"I have loved you, with an everlasting love. I have called you, and you are mine." God's words to us, his sheep. A momma's words to her children. My words to you.
I want you to live. To grow, once again. If you must go meet Jesus before meeting me face to face, please do so within my womb. Know my love, my respect for your human dignity, for at least a while.
I pray it be a long while. That my womb be so hospitable that you take up residence for nine or so months.
While my heart and my mind pray for your life, my soul, I think, asks only for your restoration to human dignity. Relief from the freezer, from the frozen stasis of fifteen years.
I know the survival odds are not good. I also have learned, am still learning, that statistics amount to nothing. No amount of planning can make you live. God alone decides how many of you will grace my womb. Grace my arms. All three of you are already blessed with the love of two sets of parents: B. and S., and me and your adopted Daddy.
B. and S. loved you enough to recognize their own limitations as parents and sought out help. In a roundabout way, they found us.
We love you dearly.
See you soon, little ones.