The title of Mother

It's been four months of orienting ourselves with our new life. I blog tonight because I finally feel rested. Ah, life is good. The world is bright, football's on, my baby is happy, and we are showering and feeding ourselves again. Life is different. Leaving the house is an event within itself, sleeping in is a thing of the past, and with all of the baby books, Tim and I find ourselves speaking in rhyme. Yeah, yeah... Jude's only nineteen weeks old, but when you have a kid, you have an excuse to open up Dr. Seuss and read mouthful of gobbledeegoop stanzas as fast as possible and change your voice for all the different Sneeches on the beaches. Who enjoys the books most is debatable.

I am starting to see little lines form next to my eyes... wrinkles. I now squint all the time. When Jude is happy, I can't stop smiling. The love I have for that little 14 pounder is so overwhelming, and deepens at a rate as fast as he grows out of his pajamas.

I work a lot and have carried a fear that Jude might not bond with me like most babies with their moms... but something AMAZING happened today! Jude is not a clingy baby and as long as he has a full belly, he's happy to work a room and flash his dimples to anyone willing to speak first soprano babble. So at a baby shower this morning, he was content in the arms of a friend, and then Jude's eyes met mine. In slow motion, he tilted his chin down, looked at me with his big chocolate eyes, batted the long curly eyelashes, smiled a big, gummy smile, then turned his body toward me and outreached both arms. He wanted his mommy! It was epic.

So here's a question to ponder... What is a mother? I'd love to hear some feedback. I have been trying to think of a definition since an interesting comment came my way a few weeks before Jude's arrival. One well-intentioned woman suggested that I wear an inflated pillow that I could blow up as Jude's due date approached, so that "I would know what real mothers go through." It was so preposterous that I found the notion quite humorous. I asked the woman if Wal-Mart carried them. I have much to say regarding the miracle of adoption and God's hand in how he forms families. I obviously do not have the experience of birthing a child to compare the those feelings of attachment, but I can say that Tim and I wear the same dark circles under our eyes, sport the same marks of spit up on our shoulder, read the same books, and share in the same celebrations of climbing percentages on the growth chart and healthy poopy diapers.

At most social gatherings we attend, there are two distinct circles, those with kids and those without. I am welcome in the Mom circle, and then when the conversation turns to contractions and breast feeding, I'm welcome back in the other circle. After all, Tux and Tank still sleep in our bed and, they are still my babies too.

People may think that adopting is the easy route to becoming a parent, but the emotional strain of waiting and navigating the winding path towards a match or referral serves as adoptive parents' own rite of passage before the big day when a child is placed in their arms. Our fourteen months of waiting involved many tears, disappointments, and delays that few could relate to... and that was without the added element of infertility that many adoptive parents have to work through. It can be a rough road.

As many friends are travelling down their own unique paths in pursuit of starting a family, I find myself acknowledging that we have no control when it comes to children. God allows us to choose a mate, but not a child. Delivered to parents by social worker, birth canal, or stork, God gifts us with a life, full of potential, personality, and unique abilities. I believe that is nothing less than a modern-day miracle... and today, my little miracle let me know that in his eyes, I am his mother.