Mormon Momma

When I became pregnant with my first child—a girl—I couldn’t understand how having a baby would be markedly different from babysitting. And I wasn’t too thrilled with the whole idea.

Then she was born and I found that I would give my life for this precious baby in a second.

When I was pregnant with my second child—another girl—I felt so sorry for her because I was sure that I could never love her—or anyone—like I loved my first.

Then she was born and I found my heart more than doubled in size. And I relaxed a bit over the births of my next two sweet girls.

When I was pregnant with my fifth—my first boy—I just couldn’t comprehend how I could ever really love and mother a…boy. I mean boys are, well, they have that thing. And they like bugs and rocks and guns and bashing into each other. They don’t even have cute clothes and pigtails!

Then my boy was born and immediately I knew that no girl would ever be good enough for my most darling, little prince. [Note to Samson’s future dates: there is a chance I can mellow with time on this point.]

When my last boy was born, I knew he’d hold my heart as well.

Even though I’ve never adopted a child, I see that loving a child is often very different from the way we perceive it from the outside. And even though a child didn’t come from our own genes, I know from experience—as an adoptee—that an adopted child can be loved and cherished and included as much as those of our own blood.

What a blessing all around to give babies to families who yearn for them and give families to babies who can’t live without them.