Eight

My son turned eight yesterday.

It was a hard day for reasons that had nothing to do with his birthday--for a few hours, I had to face the scary possibility that I could end up having another baby on the twentieth of February. Fortunately, everything turned out fine, just another pregnancy "adventure."

Needless to say, I didn't spend a whole lot of time yesterday in retrospective contemplation, given the other stuff going on. Still, I find myself thinking more about it today.

Eight years just seems like such a long time. That tiny baby who came into the world is now a young man, getting baptized tomorrow, which I find incredible.

So much has happened in my life. I have changed in so many ways. My world is such a different place. Recently I picked up the journal that I kept during my pregnancy with Ian. I haven't read the whole thing through, but I've read a few entries here and there.  It's been fascinating to recognize again and again just how different my situation is now from how it was then. Not only does it make me incredibly grateful for the wonderful life I have now, but it also reaffirms my certainty that Ian is exactly where he is supposed to be.

I know that adoption is not perfect. It's nobody's first choice. But it was the best choice for me and my son, eight years ago. I am grateful for the experiences that I went through, which have profoundly and eternally changed me. And I am so grateful for Ian--even though we are not very close, I love him dearly and seeing his happiness brings me great joy.  He will always be an important part of my life, no matter the distance.

Happy birthday, kiddo.