There are moments in life when love transcends what we thought was possible. Lately, I’ve been experiencing these moments with my eldest son, a profound love that fills my heart and brings a smile to my face. I realize that my place is as his mother, and his place is as my son.
Many people have reservations about adoption. They express their concerns as if they are undeniable truths, but they stem from fears and uncertainties. I’ve heard various statements such as:
- “Adoption can’t work for me because I can’t love a child as much as my biological children.”
- “I need to pass on my genetics.”
- “Adoption feels unnatural.”
- “What if I can’t bond with a child who doesn’t look like me or my partner? What if I can’t love someone I didn’t create?”
- “I’ve heard adopted children come with a lot of issues. Who knows what you’ll get when you adopt?”
Let me make this clear: I love my adopted children just as fiercely as I love my biological kids! In fact, sometimes it’s easier to love them. Their quirks and flaws don’t reflect my own; their physical attributes and health challenges aren’t issues I face myself, which allows me to appreciate them as individuals apart from me.
Lately, my heart has been overflowing with love for my eldest. I often reflect on his journey into our family. For months, he was just a dream—a concept of love waiting to be realized. Then came the paperwork, interviews, and background checks, until he finally became a name and a face proudly displayed on our fridge.
Thousands of miles later, he became the little boy whose laughter melted my heart and confirmed that I was meant to be his mom. His birth mother made a huge sacrifice, and from the womb, he called out to me, drawing me across the globe to find him. We waited together in that Kazakh orphanage until I answered his call. Our connection is like the red thread that binds us, unbreakable and everlasting.
That little boy, now growing into a young man, continues to captivate me. Each moment I learn more about him—his challenges, dreams, insecurities, and victories—my love deepens. My heart expands, filling with an indescribable warmth as I truly see him.
I see him when, after years of hard work, he receives a diagnosis for dyslexia and sensory processing disorder (SPD). Instead of grieving, we celebrate because it confirms what he has always known: he is not less intelligent; he is simply facing challenges.
I see him when, on his birthday, he sends positive thoughts to his birth mother, believing she thinks of him too.
I see him when he tenderly cares for his pet chickens, proving he has a special touch.
I see him when his creativity shines through the lens of my camera.
I see him when he pauses to help another child who has fallen, showing his true character over competition.
I see him when he advocates for adopting another child, stating, “Every kid deserves a home; we should be that home.”
I see him when he connects with nature, identifying birds of prey and sharing fascinating facts.
I see him measuring his hands and feet against mine, beaming with pride when he realizes we’re the same size.
I see him when he grapples with feeling different, noticing his skin color in a crowd of blue-eyed children.
I see him when he seeks comfort from me in moments of chaos.
I see him choosing meditation as a way to ground himself, offering wisdom that surprises even his dad.
I see him when he holds a funeral for a bird that “died alone” in the snow.
I see him when he helps a neighbor while camping, introducing himself with confidence.
I see him when he laughs at a comic book, that same laughter echoing from our first days together in the orphanage.
I see him as we watch documentaries connecting him to his culture, and I feel our family bond strengthen.
I see him when I tuck him in at night, still cherishing the memory of his baby cheeks that begged for kisses.
I see him as I pursue my passion for adoption outreach, inspired by his journey.
I see him when I advocate for every child to have a home and encourage others to consider adoption as a beautiful way to grow their families.
He may not share my genetic makeup, and he may not resemble me, but these truths enrich our relationship. The beauty of our connection lies in the love we share, which transcends genetics, skin color, and backgrounds. When I look at my son, all I see is love—my love for him and his love for me—a love boundless and profound.
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In summary, love knows no boundaries. It is the essence of family, whether through biology or adoption. My adopted son holds a special place in my heart, equal to that of my biological children.
Keyphrase: Love in Adoption
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