M had a year end Kindergarten Program where the kids said one liners and sang songs. It was very well put together with a lovely slide show at the end, complete with pictures and video footage of their first year in school. M was so excited for this and I was excited for her.
Now my reaction to the night: I was a wreck.
When did my baby grow up?
I held it together until the last slide of the slide show.
Then the tears started flowing. Not the cute ones. The ones with shuddering breaths. Steve glanced over at me with the look he reserves for crazy people. "What is wrong with you? Why are you crying?" It took a while, but I finally know why I cry at my baby's milestones. It is because having children is something we were unable to do for ourselves. Being an adoptive Mom is one of the greatest misunderstood gifts of our time. Our kids birth moms have allowed me the privilege of making dinner around food allergies, fixing hair, ironing clothes, yelling at children to find shoes, hastening bums into cars and car seats, wiping boogers and tears from faces when they are sitting in a different seat than they wanted, and finally to sit in a crowded auditorium watching one of my most precious gifts learn and grow. I want my children to grow into healthy, well adjusted, independent adults. I want them to critically think for themselves and experience the amazing things life has to offer. My role is to lift, elevate, inspire, encourage, and when needed, push. I wish others could see, know, and feel that adoption blesses birth parents, adoptive parents, and the children. But in the darkness of a school auditorium I shed tears of gratitude for the women that allowed me to have this life and I wish they could see the marvelous blessing they provided to Steve and I and their children with their heart and gut wrenching choice.
At home.
At school.
At play.
M's class. Well, half of the group is her class.
Grammy and Grampy.
Now my reaction to the night: I was a wreck.
When did my baby grow up?
I held it together until the last slide of the slide show.
Then the tears started flowing. Not the cute ones. The ones with shuddering breaths. Steve glanced over at me with the look he reserves for crazy people. "What is wrong with you? Why are you crying?" It took a while, but I finally know why I cry at my baby's milestones. It is because having children is something we were unable to do for ourselves. Being an adoptive Mom is one of the greatest misunderstood gifts of our time. Our kids birth moms have allowed me the privilege of making dinner around food allergies, fixing hair, ironing clothes, yelling at children to find shoes, hastening bums into cars and car seats, wiping boogers and tears from faces when they are sitting in a different seat than they wanted, and finally to sit in a crowded auditorium watching one of my most precious gifts learn and grow. I want my children to grow into healthy, well adjusted, independent adults. I want them to critically think for themselves and experience the amazing things life has to offer. My role is to lift, elevate, inspire, encourage, and when needed, push. I wish others could see, know, and feel that adoption blesses birth parents, adoptive parents, and the children. But in the darkness of a school auditorium I shed tears of gratitude for the women that allowed me to have this life and I wish they could see the marvelous blessing they provided to Steve and I and their children with their heart and gut wrenching choice.
Comments
Post a Comment