When we brought Eddie home, I wasn’t sure what it would be like. I loved him, that was sure, but I questioned if our bond would be like the one I had with Lute. I thought about him as our “adopted son” every single day. Many times. Add into that the fact that I was half way through my pregnancy with George, and I was not only thinking about my connection with him, but with the other baby soon joining us.

In the four and a half months between Eddie and George’s birth, I poured myself into him. And then when George came, Nick took over almost entirely. He was Nick’s boy and their bond grew quickly and deeply as I adjusted to becoming a mother of three, trying to find a balance between all my boys, while mostly being pulled to the newborn that depended on me for his every need. I loved Eddie, snuggled him and fed him, but I still thought of him as the adopted boy. I thought of his birthmother all the time and wondered what how often she thought of us. Of her son.

When Eddie and George became mobile, that’s when things got hard. Here I was with two toddler boys and a preschooler and I was always tired, exasperated, unsure of how to handle them, keep them safe… I was overwhelmed. I couldn’t imagine my life without any of my boys, but I also wondered if we were a little crazy with our spacing. I was wondering less frequently about his birthmother, started to fall into a more natural routine, and my bond with Eddie came together in invisible ways that cemented us together.

Eddie was always Dada’s boy. He followed Nick everywhere, did everything with him, and I knew it was because of their early bond. But then something shifted. It only happened a few months ago, but Eddie suddenly was a mama’s boy through and through. Where I was, he wanted to be. When he woke up in the morning, he wasn’t satisfied to have his milk with his daddy and go back to bed… he had to have a snuggle with Mama first. He wants to know where I am at all times, is content to play near me while I make dinner, and doesn’t want me to leave him anywhere. It is mostly heart burstingly lovely and just occasionally a little inconvenient.

When I hold him, read to him, put him to bed, get him ready for the day, help him with his food, push him on his bike, brush his teeth, tie his shoes, correct him, protect him, console him, laugh with him, dance with him, hold his hand… he is mine. Completely and totally and in a way that makes my heart explode with love and gratitude for the crazy gift he is to me. To us. To our family. I don’t think “adopted” anymore. I mean, he is, obviously, but his heart is fused with mine now and forever. I hope it is always the same for him.

Is my bond with him the same as mine with Lute? No. And my bond with George isn’t either. My boys are vastly different. Each holds my heart in a different way, but completely and fully. I don’t think it has anything to do with being biological or adopted, but it’s just the way it is when you have more than one kid. You love them all differently but equally.

Words can’t express it. But I know that God designed our family the way that it is… and as I allow Him, he keeps giving my heart a greater capacity for love… for tenderness and joy and…cuteness. I am so grateful that this is my life.

You are the big person. He is the little person.

He takes cues from you because you are the big person.

Although biology would say he is 5 1/2, he is more like 3 1/2. If you remember that every minute, you will all be happier.

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