I sit here on the eve of Mother's Day. My 18th Mother's Day. I have a 17 year old, a 10 year old, and a 7 year old.
My husband has made brunch plans for all of us for tomorrow. I bought my daughter a new dress to wear.
I tucked them into bed and she sweetly whispered to me 'Happy Mother's Day mommy. I love you.' The quiet whisper from her sleepy lips. The resounding hush of a daughter who, just five months ago, didn't like us to hug her. And we didn't push it. She didn't like to be kissed. And we didn't push her. She only gave affection when she was getting something in return. And we didn't push her.
Now she freely gives affection. Hugs, kisses, bear-grip, rib cracking hugs. For no reason. Other than that she has found her home. Not her temporary home. Her real home.
I love my children. I am truly blessed by them. I am a better person because of them. And every day, I thank God that He has entrusted me with them.