There are moments in life when love for another person transcends anything you’ve felt before. Recently, I’ve been experiencing these feelings with my eldest son. Each time, it’s a profound and immeasurable love that fills my heart, brings a smile to my face, and reaffirms that I am exactly where I’m meant to be—as his mother. And he, in turn, is my son.
Many people express doubts about adoption, sharing their fears as if they are undeniable truths. I’ve heard comments like:
- “Adoption isn’t for me. I couldn’t love a child as fiercely as my biological kids.”
- “I need to pass on my genes.”
- “Adoption just doesn’t feel right.”
- “What if I can’t love a child who doesn’t look like me or my partner?”
- “Adopted children come with too many problems; you never know what you’re getting into.”
Let me be clear: I love my adopted boys just as much as my biological ones! In fact, in many ways, it’s easier to love them. Their personal challenges don’t reflect my own flaws, and their unique traits aren’t things I criticize in myself. This clarity allows me to appreciate them for who they truly are.
My heart is full of love for my eldest lately, and I find myself reminiscing about his arrival into our lives. For months, he was just a dream, an idea waiting to take shape. Then came the paperwork, phone calls, interviews, and background checks, transforming him into a face and a name proudly displayed on our fridge.
Miles away, he became the little boy whose laughter melted my heart, confirming that I was destined to be his mother. His birth mom’s sacrifice connected us across continents, like the tale of the red thread that binds families together.
That little boy, now growing into a young man, continues to draw me in. Each new detail I learn about him—his struggles, passions, and triumphs—deepens my love. My heart expands with each revelation, filling me with joy. In these moments, I truly see him, and I know my love is real, unwavering, and as profound as any mother’s love for her biological children.
- I see him when he receives a dyslexia and sensory processing disorder diagnosis, and we celebrate rather than grieve. This validation confirms what he always suspected: he is not less intelligent; he simply faces challenges.
- I see him when we send good thoughts to his birth mom on his birthday, as he reflects on their connection.
- I see him with his chickens, a true “chicken whisperer.”
- I see him when he shows compassion, helping a boy who fell off his bike instead of focusing on winning a race.
- I see him when he expresses the desire to adopt another child, simply stating, “Every kid needs a home.”
- I see him in nature, identifying birds of prey and explaining their flight mechanics.
- I see him as he realizes we share the same foot size, beaming with pride as he takes over my running shoes.
- I see him when he feels different, noticing his skin tone in a sea of light eyes.
- I see him leaning against me for comfort during chaotic times.
- I see him choosing meditation to find his center and offering profound advice to his dad.
- I see him holding a burial ceremony for a bird that “died alone” in the snow.
- I see him cheering for our favorite cycling team, Team Astana, which feels like home.
- I see him when he eagerly assists a neighbor during our camping trip, introducing himself with confidence.
- I see him laughing heartily at a comic book, that same laugh echoing from the Kazakh orphanage where our journey began.
- I see him connecting with his culture through a documentary about eagle hunting, where we all feel closer to his roots.
- I see him when the documentary stirs laughter about how those passions might be in his blood.
- I see him each night as I tuck him in, recalling his adorable baby cheeks.
- I see him inspiring me to become an adoption outreach coordinator, fueling my passion for advocating for every child to have a home.
- I see him when I encourage others to consider adoption as a beautiful way to expand their families.
Despite not sharing genetic ties, he is beautiful and unique. Our relationship is enriched by our differences. Factors such as blood type or nationality do not dictate our ability to love deeply. When I see my son, all I see is love—my love and his love—a bond that knows no limits.
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In conclusion, love knows no bounds. It transcends genetics and embraces the heart.