Me? A mother?

Today, after reading the following commentary from a fellow blogger:

"Some people questioned if we were “ready” to start the adoption process. Were we done grieving, they wanted to know. Clearly, this was a question being asked by those who have not yet known loss. You are never done grieving, and if you wait for that to happen, life will pass you by. But we were ready to choose hope, to choose life, to choose family and love and the chance to raise a child. We were ready to hold our loss in our hearts while we sought out joy. I didn’t give two figs if my child was flesh of my flesh or not. Put a baby in my arms, and that baby is mine."

I looked at a picture of my two precious darlings and the first thought in my mind was, "mine." I can honestly say after a 7 year journey to parenthood I am a mother. I do not stop and think about it, I do not question it. It is now a part of who I am. It is not the only thing I am, but it is an important piece.

I used to walk around on egg shells fearing those around me would see my longings and my fear that I would never wear the hat of "mommy." I was afraid the truth was I was not meant to be a mom, and everyone else was judging me and finding me lacking. I would go to the mall, a gathering of friends, or a family event cringe whenever the topic of childbearing arose. I started losing a bit of myself, a part of myself I had not even gotten the chance to be yet, but grief, fear of the unknown, and self preservation has a way of bearing down on hopes and dreams. I told myself, "I will not have anything to lose if I accept the worst." After time passed and many other those people I thought were echoing my own thoughts proved me wrong by praying and speaking into my life I realized I am not defined by if I am a mother or not.

I came to a place about three years into our fertility journey where I realized I would be a wonderful mother. I was a good aunt to our nieces and nephews, and with our friend's children. I am a teacher. I began to believe in the hope anew, and in what God had promised us.

Five and half years after we married, we became to parents of our two miracle blessings. It is funny because when people ask me questions that used to offend me so much, like, "Are they yours?" or "Did you have a hard pregnancy?" I find myself using our adoptive journey as a testament. It is a testimony of God's grace. I said in the beginning of this entry that my boys are "mine," but really ALL children are Gods, biological, white, black, adoptive, twins, glasses, whoever they are. We are AL Gods. They are not "mine," but instead they are my "gifts" from God. Precious gifts.

I got my nails done last night. The woman doing my nails asked if I had children. I did not hesitate to tell her all about my two rascals. We were comparing stories and she leaned in and asked very conspiratorially, "Is is time for another one? They are three years apart right? How was your pregnancy?" I stopped, thought about my choices, and without a moment of hesitation said, "We are always open to what God has, but no I have never been pregnant. We are a blessed family of adoption." She processed what I said, nodded her head, and then we continued our conversation without skipping a beat as she moved into a story about her husband being adopted and the many babies adopted from her home country of China.

Adoption has opened up a whole new world for our family. It has opened up many connections and opportunities to share our God story. So it is not about who I am, or am not, it is about being confident in God's plan.