Our sweet son is 18 months old this December! It's hard to believe that time passes so quickly. It's so fun to watch a baby grow up. I wish at times I could freeze time to enjoy his babyhood even longer! So we try to enjoy every day instead.
In the years full of grief, I was so worried I would have difficulty parenting a son. Trauma does strange things to a person. Mean things. I am grateful that parts of my wounded mothering heart have healed. In part because we have a son.
I became very reflective and sad today after receiving a Christmas email from our former agency. So much came rushing back. Five years ago this month, we were driving downtown in the traffic rush, attempting to get all of our documents apostilled to send off. Our dossier was mailed. We spent Christmas with the exhilaration that soon we'd have our 4 children.
The sadness that still lingers is different now. I've fully embraced our family, as a family of 3. I'm present in the moments each day brings, and my identity has changed somewhat. Yet my heart still bears the scar of pain. It has allowed me to come alongside others in pain. It has changed how I want my son to grow up. It affects how I view God's redemptive work.
I've given the children over to God now; my hands are open. It no longer feels disloyal.
But tears come still. Soft, slight tears. Then the deep catch around my chest. The children are loved from afar.
And at the same time, tears of deep gratitude well up as I look at my son. That God had such mercy for us. That He gave me the gift of forever motherhood. That I am loved by God.