We decided not to tell our daughter the news until she woke up that morning. My husband, Mike, and I were afraid that, had she known, she wouldn’t be able to wait.

Christina sat straight up in bed. “I’m going to meet my birth mother?” she asked, wide-eyed. After asking to see her birth mother for nearly a year, today, her dream was coming true.

“And her boyfriend, and her daughter, and her mother and father.”

As our car pulled out of the driveway, I was surprised to feel butterflies in my stomach. Friends and family had been curious: “Aren’t you worried about how Christina will feel about you once she’s met her real mom?” Honestly, I hadn’t been worried…until now.

For the past 10 years we’d heard from our wonderful “extended” family twice a year, around the holidays and on Christina’s birthday. At first, her birth mother, Christy, wrote short notes. As years went by, Christy’s letters got longer. We celebrated with her from afar when she graduated, and when she had her daughter. Christy’s mother, Mitzi, had been open from the beginning, sending long letters tucked into boxes full of thoughtful presents.

Christina posed the big question on her ninth birthday: “So why can’t I meet my birth mother?” Her words stuck in my mind and I began to wonder, “Why can’t she meet her?” Christy and her family loved Christina very much — their letters clearly told us so. And with each passing year, the love and trust I felt for them grew greater.

Still, the decision to arrange the birth mother meeting for Christina wasn’t an easy one. Mike and I debated and prayed for hours. We spoke to Mitzi, who reassured us that the meeting wouldn’t be disruptive for Christy or her new family. We consulted with a social worker, who believed that a meeting would be beneficial, despite Christina’s relatively young age. And, on top of all of this, my heart was telling me — now’s the time.

“How much longer?” Christina asked, squirming in her seat.

“‘Bout half an hour, Peanut,” Mike replied. In 30 minutes I’d meet the woman who gave me the greatest gift of my life! The butterflies flew faster.

“Do I look like her?” Christina asked, tugging on her long, blond braid.

“We’ll see,” I answered, curious myself to see the similarities.

As we pulled into the restaurant, I found it hard to believe that only a few hours had separated us for so long.

Christina spotted them first. “I think that’s her,” she whispered, pointing to a woman lifting a baby from a car seat. As we watched Christy, her boyfriend, and her parents unload gifts from their car, seconds felt like hours. When they finally walked through the door, my nervousness evaporated. In its place, I felt only years of pent-up gratitude and joy.

The hours flew by. Christina and Christy had the same long, flowing hair, but Christy’s was dark brown. And, although she was very quiet, I saw a familiar spark in Christy’s eye that told me she was usually outgoing, like Christina.

Christy’s parents, Mitzi and Elvin, were doting grandparents. Mitzi and Christina soon discovered that they both loved animals, pizza, and ice cream. By the end of the afternoon, Elvin was lifting her high above his head to play “airplane.” Neither noticed that Christina was rather big to be an airplane. After all, they had years to make up for.

After showing the waitress how to use the camera, Christina ran to Christy, who hugged her tight for a photo. As the camera flashed, I was also smiling. Why? Because I had witnessed the special love my daughter and her birth mother shared, and because I knew that Christina’s love for me would never change, that I’m her mother.

Although we haven’t been able to plan another meeting, two years later, we’re closer than ever. And Christina feels secure knowing that she is loved by both her family and her birth family.