Alright, so imagine this: Two years ago, I started packing my suitcase. Mine and my little ones. I sorted out a car seat in the back of the car and picked up a small portable heater, just in case. That day, I drove over to the courthouse to collect the guardianship papers.
A few hours later, I was on my way to see my son in his room. It was the day wed finally be together again. Id spent the whole previous week doing a two-hour round trip every daythirty miles each wayjust so I could spend an hour or two with him before heading all the way back home. That week felt like it would never end.
He was so tiny back then. I used to lay Thomas on his tummy and just watch him, imagining he was part of meas though hed always belonged with me. I think he probably felt the same; there was this quiet calmness about him in those moments.
Families here who have adopted often talk about Stork Day. Its that magical day when a child finally comes home, and the family finally feels whole. The parents get their real purpose, and the child gets a proper mum and dad. Its that spark of hope for a normal, happy life.
With my daughter, it took a few months for those feelings of real belonging to grow. But with my son, it was different. He had a place in my heart right from the start. It was as if thered always been that space waiting for him in our house. I still cant fully get my head around how his birth mother made that decisionhow she could just walk away from him. She didnt even cast a glance his way. Sometimes I wonder if things mightve turned out differently if she’d just looked at him once. Hes impossible not to love. Maybe it was always meant to be this way. Maybe he was truly meant for me.
I call him my little miracle. He has such a spark about him. I honestly just hope he grows up happy. My Thomas. Its the greatest privilege Ive ever had, being your mum.
