All For Love and Love For All

A new cheesy family motto? Perhaps. It came from thinking of a title for this post and it works surprising well. Anyway...

I love blogging. I really do. I was reluctant at first but it has become part of my morning rituals. And afternoon and even evening. Not only does it get me out of folding laundry :), it is my therapy. But it has also led me to meet some amazing individuals. Like Mrs. R.

Her blog is mostly all adoption, all the time so she might not be as interesting to some as she is to me. But she is a fabulous resource. She says things that I've thought and felt in a way that is dead-on most of the time. In a recent post she addressed the issue- Can you love and be loved by a child born by somebody else? You just have to read it.

I think anyone involved in the process has thought this. How could you not? There are times where you think maybe God doesn't want you to parent. Maybe you just shouldn't. He does. Just not in the way you thought.

I wasn't really ever afraid I wouldn't love my baby enough/or differently/ or the same. I knew I could and I would. To me, it was the same way I knew that I could love my husband, God, or in my case even my Dad. Genetics had very little to do with it. I was more afraid she wouldn't love/bond/connect to me. Almost to ease the fears that only God knew about, our Birthmom's adoption plan included me being present for the birth. We would bond from the beginning. I was and always will be so incredibly thankful for that experience.

Nothing makes me happier than when a close friend recently said, "Wow, Yannette! She totally knows who her mommy is." She had been talking to Little Miss in her car seat and I came up behind her, and my Miss smiled. I already knew that she recognizes me. She's been smiling for a long time now an she consistently blows bubbles at me, but it was nice to know that it's not my imagination.

This morning (the event that prompted this post), after a very early morning breakfast, Little Miss was lying in bed next to me and jabbering away. We were just hanging out and talking. I rolled to my side facing her when she placed her long skinny hand and just rested it on my cheek. Almost to say, "I love you, Mommy." It was one of the greatest moments of my life.

I thought of Mrs. R's post. And if there was ever any question as to "Can you love and be loved by a child born by somebody else?" There is no doubt. Kensley is not my 'adopted daughter'. She is my daughter...and she happens to be adopted.