This is the first time I’m celebrating as only an adoptive mom, not a foster mom. That’s how I first gained the title – mom. Being a foster mom is beautiful and challenging all at once. I didn’t realize how different it would feel becoming an adoptive mom to kids I already loved. It’s been a transition for all of us.
I wonder how my daughters will see their childhood from the vantage of adulthood. What kind of mother will they remember me as?
Although united by the title of “mom”, each of us uniquely defines that relationship.
For me, I tend to get caught up on the natural. I make sure my kids are well dressed, well fed, and live in a nice home. In a way, this helps heal the wounds they still bear from early life. I’ve created a place of stability and comfort to help heal.
There are times I fail in other areas. Sometimes I don’t respond with grace. Sometimes I don’t savour the beauty of the moment we’re in. Sometimes I wish they would just stop talking. I forget how exceptional it is that my daughters adore me and want to interact with me. They crave the love in my gaze. They want to make me smile. They seek to bring me joy.
“This is all I have for you,” Raine said sadly, handing me a folded piece of paper.
A dear friend worked with the girls to give me a lovely potted flower arrangement. But since Raine didn’t buy or create it herself, she doesn’t count that as a proper Mother’s Day gift.
“Your love is all I need,” was my answer.
“Well, you have that,” Raine happily replied.