6 years.

It's another year - it's another year to remember.

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.

I've heard it all. Seriously.

I've been an adoptive mom now for almost 6 years. You would think that after 6 years, I'd be prepared for comments from the general public re: my children. But sadly, I'm not. And even more so from medical personnel.

Last week at an appointment with a new pediatric eye doctor, I again was punched in the stomach for what was said in front of me AND my child. Whenever I go to appointments for any of my children, I do a little self talk beforehand in the car. I've learned that I have to be a strong advocate for each my of kids, and each kid's needs are different in an appointment. I remember walking into this pediatric eye appointment without confidence. Not a good combo.

Doctors ask alot of questions. Nurses asks alot of questions. I've learned to word my adoptive children's utero experiences with people and doctors as concise as possible without telling too much of their story. Something that I have to continually tweak and learn as they get older and will start to have their own voice in appointments.

As I was sitting with my little one on my lap, I gave a brief summary of Josiah's past. Immediately, the doctor, in front of my child made a comment that hurt me deeply. "Oh don't you just hate birth mom's who make such stupid stupid decision. Don't they even care about their child?"

I was literally so stunned that there were no words that came out of my mouth. Some days I choose to educate. That day, I chose to be silent. Silent because I was so shocked. Silent because I was hurt so deeply for my child's birth mom. Silent.

As I've thought long and hard about that day, I've had to realize that I should have said something. I should have spoken up. I should have stood up for my child who could not speak for himself yet.

Adoption is a road that continues to push me to be strong. To be unliked by doctors. To be misunderstood. That's ok. I need to. It's my duty to my boys. 

Adoption is not all rainbows and butterflies. It's hard days when you get into your car and burst into tears because your child's birth mom was once again talked about with disgust, with anger, with no compassion. 

My job as I love my kids is to allow them to grow into their stories with patience, love, compassion, understanding and always standing by them. And it starts with me always being their advocate.

And since I know I'll be asked - no, we will not be returning to this clinic.

Motherhood to me.

Motherhood- it's a word that encompasses so many feelings, emotions and actions. It's a word that stirs a deep love within my soul.

Motherhood is praying for a child, not knowing when he or she might arrive. 

Motherhood is holding your first daughter in your arms, literally amazed at her beauty, amazed that your body actually birthed this human being. It's realizing at that moment that she means everything to you. 

Motherhood is praying for 2 years for a child. It's not giving up when the prayers are unanswered. It's waiting  - waiting for someone one else to give birth. It's jumping everytime the phone rang, thinking your child had been born. It's answering those calls and realizing you have to wait again.

Motherhood is holding your child at 3 days old, not at the moment of his birth. It's holding your son for the first time, and experiencing a sense of calmness that is supernatural. It's in that moment that your mind wonders to God and you know this child was meant to be.

Motherhood is seeing your 3rd child and meeting him for the first time via text message. It's holding him for the first time, only to have your heart break with pain for him as you see him suffering. It's holding a child in the dark NICU for days on end, wondering when he'll stop crying or start eating.

Motherhood is realizing that some of my children are loved by someone else just as much as I love them. It's remembering that someone else birthed them and love them in their own way. It's remembering to honor and love that other mother always, in actions and words.

Motherhood is sleepless nights. Far too many sleepless nights. It's getting up just to "check on them" one more time.

Motherhood is loving your child so fiercely that you never understood the concept of "Mama Bear" till it was put to the test.

Motherhood is being humbled to realize that God placed each one of my children into my arms and allows me to love them and guide them to understand the greatness and beauty of Christ.

Motherhood is fighting hard for your child, when people look at you and judge you silently. It's not caring what the looks means. It menns having a backbone stronger than your child's and being the best advocate you can be for them. It's being their voice when they don't have one.

Motherhood is a place I call home.

A year ago today, our world turned upside down.

We say often that the day we got the call about Josiah was probably the darkest day of our adoption journey to date. I remember it as if it was yesterday. I write about it today because my blog is a journey of my kids, a journal of adoption. And while Josiah's story is filled with alot of tears before he came, those ended the night he was born.

Tomorrow my son turns 1. But it was a Friday night last year that he as born. It goes like this:

After two failed matches in the time frame of 32 days, we were literally at our end. The tears, the uncertainty, the fear of moving forward - we didn't know how much more we could do. The emotions of that day still are very real to me - I could relive that moment still, it's still so fresh.

Rick had come home early, just spent from emotions. He found me sitting in the front room, on the couch, in tears. I had placed a call to the director of the agency we were with, hoping she might have some words to encourage our hearts. Even in the pain and hurt, we still trusted God that somewhere, some how there as a child for us.

As Rick and I starting talking, we were both crying, we were both angry at life, we were both just exhausted from the emotional journey our adoption had take us. We were literally decompressing everything in tears, wondering how much longer we could go on and how much longer our two kids could keep watching us.

And then my phone buzzes. I almost ignored it, but just quickly glanced down. Our old case worker with our old agency that had closed it doors had sent me a PM via FB. All it said was "Hi Amy. I need to call you. What's your number?"

I literally screamed and jumped up. I knew in that instant that this was the call for our child. There was no other reason. I hadn't talked to this gal in over a year.

She called me. It was 5:30pm. The call was simple: "A baby boy is being born as we speak. Would you like to adopt him?"

Within minutes, we said yes. Shocked was an UNDERSTATEMENT of the moment. Going from sheer sadness to extreme joy was weird. Going from being matched to two different girls to now being told we were having a son was weird. Weird is the best word to describe everything happening around us in a whirlwind.

We got a text as Josiah's birth mom was pushing and I remember sitting in Lucas' room with Rick and Ella and Lucas and seeing the first picture of our son when he as less than a minute old. Our first look at him.

On Sunday, Josiah will be dedicated to the Lord. I told Rick his dedication verse needs to be a verse that strongly emphasizes that Josiah was meant to be. That he was meant to be loved. That he was meant for our family after so many losses. That God had it all.

Isa 43:1 is his verse: "Fear not for I have redeemed you. I have called you by name. You are mine."

As Rick and I like to summarize Josiah's arrival into our family:

After two failed matches, a case worker from our old agency which closed our doors, FB's me asking for my number because earlier in the day she had placed another baby boy with another family because she couldn't remember our names, but then she remembers we are friends on Facebook. And then she calls us on the day where Rick and I were at our lowest moment and says, "hey a baby is being born." You just can't make this all up. It's too unreal. It's just God.