"I'm gonna getcha!" I say as I dart after my toddler. He squeals with delight and dives onto the carpet. I reach down and start tickling. "Mommy! Mommy!" he shouts between bursts of laughter. What a wonderful child he is! So full of life, energy, and smiles.
I love being a mother. It's what I've always wanted to be since I was a little girl. Mother's Day is very special to me. Especially now. A few years ago I had my hardest Mother's Day ever.
It was my 30th birthday, and after eight years of marriage, we still were not blessed with any children. I watched my sisters and many friends have babies, but none came for me.
But that all changed when our precious son, Vincent, was born. Now I am forever grateful to another mother. You see, I didn't give birth to Vincent. A beautiful young woman conceived him and carried him for nine months.
She had two little ones at home, was not married, and was on welfare. She realized she would not be able to provide a secure home for this tiny one. She loved him so much, she wanted a better life for him. She wanted him to have a mother and a father.
She met us and chose us to be his parents through adoption. We were present at his birth and brought him home from the hospital.
For several weeks thereafter I cried easily. I cried for joy at finally being a mother of such a beautiful, precious boy. But I also cried for his birth mother. I cried because of the sacrifice she made. I cried because she had taken such good care of herself so that we could have a wonderfully healthy baby. I cried because of the gift she offered...