Enjoy This Time With Your Children


Everyone tells you. Every mother will tell you. Every grandmother will tell you

~Enjoy this time with your children because they grow so fast~

 

As I sit rocking you, I ponder that wise advice. Though you didn’t come from my body, I hold you close to my chest and feed you from the bottle, as though you did. I love these early morning hours, just you and me. I love how you watch me when you drink your milk. And your hands firmly grip the bottle, until you realize I have it all covered. And then your sweet fingers venture over to mine, touching, discovering the hands that hold you. 

With a full tummy, your sweet eyes close, and I lay you down in your baby bed. After patting your back, I notice the label on your little jumper sticking out at the back of your neck“if they could just stay little.” Little you. I tuck it back in place. I’ll go fill another bottle to have ready for when you wake up crying.


I hear you crying. I rush toward your room with bottle in hand, my heart thudding wildly. I’ll change your diaper first. We have an amazing routine going. 

As I turn the corner, you slip off your toddler bed and toddle toward me. “Hi, Mama,” you say. You run past me to the bathroom in your big girl pants. “I gotta go potty.” I do a double-take. What? Where? I remember what my best friend said

~Enjoy this time with your children because they grow so fast. But each stage just gets better and better~

 










I fill your juice cup and screw on the lid. You grab on to that cup like it’s your best friend and take a few sips. That cup slips right out of your hand, landing on my big toe. A few tears surface, but who has time for that? You scramble up into your big kid chair and start devouring the chopped carrots and green beans that you love. When you’re done, I’ve got the perfect book selected“Guess How Much I Love You.” I long for story timewatching you select books and back up, plopping down in my lap. I chuckle, knowing my lap had better be there. 

I hear you say, “Mama, I’m done.” Leaving unfinished dishes, I hurry over to the table to check on your progress, help clean you up, get ready for that story time. You look up at me, with a snaggle-toothed smile, and say, “Mama, I finished my cursive practice. I’m ready to read my book all by myself.” I take away your half eaten peanut butter and jelly sandwich, seemingly in slow motion, remembering what my friend said

~Enjoy this time with your children because they grow so fast~

 

The door creaks open. Are you done with school work? Maybe I’ll find you playing on your tricycle or big-wheel. I hear a yelp and wonder if you’ve been hurt. On day one of school your leg got scratched outside, and you said, “I got hurt on my first day of kindergarten.”

I rush to the door and sling it open. You two-wheel it up to me on your big-girl bike, laughing. And I don’t even remember teaching you how to ride. Your bike drops to the ground. You fly past me. “I’m going to watch a Barbie movie. Princess and the Pauper is on,” you say. The queen grabs her remote. My friend comes to mind. What did she say?

~Enjoy this time with your children because they grow so fast. But each stage just gets better and better~


Maybe you’d like popcorn with your movie. I love how we watch a movie together sometimes, or a cartoonLittle Bear or Franklin, especially on rainy days. We’ll split a bag of popcorn. I rush to get a bag popped so I don’t miss the movie. Maybe you’d like lemonade, too. 

I turn the corner into the living room. You’ve finished off a whole bag of popcorn by yourself. You fidget with the popcorn stuck in your braces. And an empty can of Dr. Pepper sits on the floor. On a sugary high, you stand and twirl.

~Enjoy this time with your children because they grow so fast~

Maybe you’d like your ballet outfit to twirl in, since you love dancing. I rush into the bedroom, open the sticking drawer, and pull out your pink tights, pink ballet shoes, black leotard with sequined skirt.
 
I barely get the drawer shut when I hear, “Mama, I need help with my hair.” Maybe you’re trying to wrap your hair in a top knot, like you do for ballet class. I grab bobby pins along the way. As I enter the room, a young man is slipping a corsage on your wrist, and you’re heading out the door for a Homecoming dance. Wait. Did we even show him the shotgun? I re-position the diamond pin in your hair.
 

~Enjoy this time with your children because they grow so fast. But each stage just gets better and better~

I hear you thudding around upstairs. I paced the floor all evening. I run up to check on you. You’re already in bed, tucking the covers under your chin. Make-up off, showered, teeth brushed. I dent the mattress edge, leaning in to you. 

“Mom, I’m a little nervous about starting college.” Tears seep into your eyes. “About growing up.”


My, oh my, I’m afraid to go to sleep and wake up. Where did the time go? I remember the baby that you were. When your tiny hand wrapped snuggly around my pinky finger. That was just this morning. And then I envision the lady that you’ll be. Will you be teaching school? Or will you be taking someone’s hand in marriage? I rub over your sweet forehead, brushing back the hair, and dab your forehead with kisses. 

You take my trembling hand in yours, holding firmly. 

“Don’t be afraid,” I say. 

~Enjoy this time with your children. Each stage just gets better and better~



Thank you to Karalee Littleton, Ronda Wetherbee, and Becky Wademy inspirations.


To: My Girl—The Day I Adopted You & My Hope For Your Future


Oh, My Girl, I cannot believe you are a senior this year and nearing graduation. I can’t even think about it or write these words without tears gathering.



I will never forget the day you burst forth into my life and the day I ran with open arms into yours.

You, little thing, were my heart’s desire.

This road of adoption is something I wouldn’t trade for anything. It’s something I’d do overagain and again and againin a heartbeat. But it’s something I wouldn’t wish on anyone. Because it was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. The most agonizing. Gut-wrenching. I didn’t know if I’d get to take you home. I didn’t know if you’d be mine. I felt so out of place in that hospital. I felt like an invited and welcomed thief. I felt like an invited and welcomed intruder. Internal anguish. And I cried a hidden ocean in that hospital restroom before you breathed your first breath.

My very first glimpse of you. My hands on you. Little baby, were you praying?







I wouldn’t wish it on anyone because you know your momma … when I fall, I fall hard. And the day I held you in my arms, I fell hard.

You were mine.










And all through your baby years, you and I were joined at the hip. A permanent mark wrinkled my clothes from you backing up and plopping down in my lap with your book to read. You’d just begin backing up, and my lap had better be there.



But adoption was hard because I had to deal with internal struggles like

~What if she doesn’t love me when she finds out?
~What if she is disappointed in me?
~What if she is disappointed in life?
~What if she longs for another?

And I’ve had to deal with issues and tell you things over the years that I wasn’t sure I’d survive …

Like

~You didn’t grow in my tummy because my tummy was broken.
~You grew in someone else’s tummy.
~I believe God gave you to me because I prayed for you for so many years.
~You might hear that I’m not your real mother.
~Someone might ask you who your real mother is. 

Until someone experiences adoption, they never know how much pain the word “real” can cause. 



But I did survive because I had no idea at the time of your birth that God would do such sweet things …

Like

~Let you favor me, just a little.
~Give you a freckle on your arm in the same spot as mine on my arm.
~Give you a heart to love the broken.
~Give you a heart that says I’m real.
~Give you a heart that trusts God.

And I remember the first time we talked about adoption, and I was scared to death. And you acted like you didn’t even care. You wanted to keep playing with your toys. You made it so easy for me, and I sighed a huge breath of relief. And you still loved me. I couldn’t believe ityou still loved me.

My Girl, through all the uncertainties, the thing I’m certain of is that I love you as though I’d given you life. I couldn’t love you any more. You were never my second choice, you’ll always be my first. I choose you.

You are joy. You are beautiful. You make me laugh. I love shopping with you, dancing with you while I’m shopping with you, singing out loud in the car with you. I love that you talk to me, that you share your heart’s secrets with me. I love watching you walk away from me when we arrive at church to go work with the children. I love watching you walk into the hospital to volunteer your love to premature babies and whatever else they need you to do. I love your sentimental soul, that tears can prick your eyes instantly. I love that your fierce strength can surface in 60 seconds, including your protectiveness over me and your little sister.

I want you for my BFF for the rest of my life.



Because you say back to me“You were never my second choice, you will always be my first. I choose you.”

And you have no idea the joy that brings to me, the tightness that gathers in my chest, the feeling that my heart could just 4th-of-July-explode with happiness and love and relief.

Oh, My Girl, with all that I know and have experienced … I wish adoption for you. I do. Because God has given you a heart for children. And when you tell me that you’ll adopt one day, I fully believe you will. And I can’t help but smile over the fact that you’ve redefined generational bondage. And I wish adoption for you because when you fall, you fall hard … just like your momma. And every child needs someone to fall for them, to fall hard for them.

I couldn’t be more proud of you, proud that God let me be a part of your lifeyour little days and your big days. 

I am blessed, and I know it.

You are my girl … my real girl.

And I love you … I really love you.