This year - I don't know what it is, but my heart feels a pain for my son that I've never really felt or maybe allowed myself to feel. As Lucas is getting older, I know the day is coming much sooner where he will understand more deeply his adoption story. He will start to feel and understand the true nature of how his adoption has come to be.
And those thoughts literally make me cry. His story, like alot of adoption stories has sweet parts, sad parts, parts that literally break your heart and parts that I as am adoptive mom will NEVER understand. It's a story of loss. It's a story of joy. And it's a story of trust.
My sweet boy was born on a beautiful Friday afternoon. His birth mom actually never made it to the hospital and instead he was born in a clinic. Given the nature of his birth, he was rushed to the local General Hospital where a neo-natal team looked him over from head to toe. He received a clear bill of health.
His foster parents for three days loved on my son. The fed him, changed him, loved him and clothed him (literally - he had no clothes when she picked him up from the hospital.) And they cared for him for me. I truly owe that couple everything. They loved on "Baby boy" until he was place in my arms. I was the first one to call him by name.
My son is strong. He is resilient. I look at him and I think about his future. I thank the Lord that he is my son and that I have the chance to guide and mold him, not to be who I think he should be but the person he wants to be. His story is just beginning.
And so tonight, like I've done every September 14th, I take a moment and think about his precious birth mom. I wish every single day that I could have met her - I can't even express the depth of that desire. I truly wish more than anything that I could have met her and talked to her. To hear her voice, to see her mannerisms, and to see my son in her. Tonight, I pray she has a peace. I pray she feels loved. And I pray she understands the beauty of Christ's love for her. Immensely.
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