A Mother's Process

We wanted another baby. We already had two beautiful sons but struggled for another. We chose to adopt, again: but, this time Internationally. Papers gathered, studies done, Dossiers complete.... and Jon dies. MY husband, my children's father is dead. And so I prayed, I asked for intervention, guidance, and I waited. I dreamed. Then, I waited some more. I fought hard against insurmountable odds that culminated to a dark and hopeless hour when it seemed I would never be allowed to bring them home.

Just when it seemed I might have to let them go, I received the email that changed everything. Contrary to all I thought would be true, I prepared to leave for a trip around the world to bring my little baby boys home.

I was given a baby shower. I sat in my sister's living room and opened packages of hope and happiness disguised as tiny boy clothes. I was giddy and overwhelmed, helpless to hide all my tears of relief.

On the table next to me were the photos of my baby boys.... waiting. All blonde haired and blue eyed with the smiles of God. They are orphans destined to remain so unless someone, somewhere fights for them. Not because they earned it. Just because they are.

The heart of a mother reflects the heart of God like nothing I have ever seen. My love is no less passionate or fierce whether that baby is growing inside my own body, born of a woman on the other side of the world or born only in my heart as, I have in the past, struggled to conceive. I love all my children without condition or expectation, and I will wait any amount of time, travel any distance, fight any battle. As all mothers in this position.... we are Heros, indeed.