My sweet son,
While watching you play with a group of children, another mother commented that she “could never love someone else’s child.” Her eyes can only see a child born from an unknown womb and of a different ethnicity, not sharing my blue eyes or light skin. How unfortunate that her eyes cannot see what I see.
When I look at you, I see an ornery sense of humor like your daddy. I see your Lego engineering skills that rival your brother’s. I listen to your contagious belly laugh and am reminded of your grandma. I admire your imagination that you share with your sister as you play together for hours. That short-sighted woman couldn’t see the deep mother/son bond we share as we snuggle early in the morning or know of the fierce protectiveness for you that overwhelms me sometimes. Your tawny skin and your almond-shaped eyes that disappear when you grin do not make me feel less connected to you but rather closer to the woman who loved you enough to give you life.
Your sweet spirit and tender heart are just like your Father’s. I am reminded that you, as well as your siblings born from my womb, are not really mine at all. All of my children belong to our Father, and you are a gift for me to nurture. I do love Someone Else’s child. And it’s easy because He tucked that love here in my heart even before I met you.
With love,
Your mommy
Originally posted on Mom Life Today
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Julia DesCarpentrie, aka: Mama, hey Honey, Jewel, MOMEEEE, yo Sis, oh Mother, Julie … depends on who needs me. I answer to the love of my life (who also just happens to be my husband), a drama tween, and three very rambunctious superheroes, and toddler diva. Several years ago we handed our safe little family over to God and told Him to take control. He buckled us in on an adventurous roller coaster that rocketed us to China to adopt our youngest child, spun us closer to His heart, and plunged us into the south where foster care once again changed our hearts and family. I can usually be found behind the wheel of ”Mama”s Monster Truck” (aka the family minivan) on the way to dance, tae kwon do, scouts or school. The laptop travels with me and most of my writing is done waiting in the school pick-up lane. Read more of her ramblings here.
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