Happy Birthday, Child of Mine.

Photo by franzi ヅ

Today my son is 4 years old.

Love is a funny thing.

When my husband and I began the process of adoption in March 2009, never did I believe that I would love someone I've never met with such intensity. I've seen people love their unborn children--sure--I've witnessed mothers with stars in their eyes as they unrolled that sleeve of sonogram photos with peanut-sized shadows. I've listened to grandparents talk about future grandchildren as if they were already Ivy League grads or self-made millionaires.

But I never realized how easily it would happen to me.

I promised myself I'd keep boundaries. I haven't put photos on the wall. The door to his bedroom is usually closed. I allow myself to watch the DVD only a dozen or so times a day.

During the past 27 months, there have been a (small) handful of days when I thought I might lose the ability to adopt him altogether. It was on those days that I realized how much the heart can love what the arms can't hold.

I never realized how easily it would happen to me. But it did.

Today my son is 4 years old. He is sleeping right now (or else antagonizing the night shift workers). He does not know what his future holds--how often we'll walk to the park as a family or eat ice cream cones at the end of Grandma's street. He's probably never played fetch with the dog or taken trips to the bookstore on Saturday mornings. But he will.

And though I know my days of perfect parenting are numbered (as in, I'll probably destroy my 4-year record on the day we meet), I know this much:

I love that little boy. And I always will.

Love is a funny thing.

Happy 4th birthday, Son.