I knew someday the questions would come, but I didn’t expect them so soon.
He’s only a smidge over three years old.
But here we are.
“Mama, was I in your belly?”
“No, sweetheart, you weren’t in Mama’s belly. You grew in another mama’s belly, but she couldn’t care for you, so God let me be your mama.”
His face was so sad in that moment. How could a 3-year-old even begin to comprehend the implications of having another mama? How will he reconcile the knowledge that the one he kisses and declares “I love you, Mama” isn’t his only mama?
Of course, to look at him and then look at Luke and me, you’d think that it’s obvious that we’re not his biological parents. It would be extremely rare for two white parents to birth a black baby. (Let alone two in a row.)
But to Kai, we’re the only parents he knows.
So of course he should have grown in my belly. And of course he’s sad that he didn’t.
So it begins.
The joys of adoption mingle closely with the sorrows.
But we press on, because it’s worth it. God redeems sorrowful situations. And maybe they don’t stop hurting altogether, but we see His glory shining through the brokenness.