Twenty-one years ago, my second youngest son was born. I wasn't there...I didn't participate in the birth. I didn't actually meet him until he was four. He was a tiny boy, mop full of curls, shy and unassuming. He has lived here with us for the last thirteen years and it has been amazing watching him grow into a man. There have been roller coaster years...years when he has struggled to find his focus. It is hard growing up...no doubt about that, but it is even harder when your father is from another country and has extremely high expectations. When you are the one who has protected yourself by laying low, tried to stay out of the way, waited behind the scenes, it is difficult when you feel that you aren't meeting expectations.
Each of our children is different and I feel lucky. I have had the opportunity to parent four amazing children, two of which are the children of my heart, two of my womb. Some might think I would love them differently, yet my love for them is the same, as if they are all of my blood. My heart is filled with joy that I have the opportunity to parent them, that they have each other.
Today is my (almost) youngest's twenty-first birthday, in two weeks our oldest is getting married. Our family is growing and changing...I am honored to be a part of it...my heart is full.