I’m the one who he snuggles into at night as I sing his song.
I’m the one who he gives his silly, giggly smile to first thing most every day.
I’m the one he follows around throughout the day and imitates.
I’m the one who held him and fed him at all hours of the night as a newborn.
I’m the one who has cheered on every milestone.
I’m the one who makes his world all better when he’s been hurt.
I’m the one who kisses his peanut butter and jelly face and gets sticky from his hugs.
I’m the one who is training and shaping him as his independence grows.
I’m the one he runs to when I come back from being away for a short time.
I’m the one he calls “Mama”.
But I’m not his mama. I am painfully aware that I am not his mama, even though his own biological father encourages him to call me that “because I’m the only mom he’s really known”. 15 out of his 18 months I have been there every step, every day, playing the role of his mom. Yet in 14 days that role will change in a second when the judge rules that he return home to his father. I will be stripped of that role and responsibility in his life. It is more than I can bear to think of how his little world will be altered. It seems far from fair.
I have no resolution tonight, only weeping and grieving and real.
Praise the One who brings joy in the morning.