Birthday Musings

Eldest boy turned 11 this past week.

11

It's a challenge to wrap my brain around that. In many ways, it's like he was just a teeny baby coming home from the hospital five minutes ago.

I didn't really mark his birthday publicly at all. Scrolling through my FB memories was fascinating to see how I used to talk about his adoption. But honestly? Having lost friends we considered family because of an inability or unwillingness on their part to even attempt to understand where we're coming vis a vis him being our child (not an 18 year rental), I can't bring myself to talk about it at all anymore.

Do I still believe adoption is a beautiful thing? Absolutely. But I no longer feel like I need (or want) to try and educate people about that. People are going to believe what they want to believe. So be it.

Even more recently, the in-laws made a few comments that had no other explanation beyond the idea that adopted somehow means less. Hubby contends they didn't mean to come across that way (though he admits that it is exactly how what they said sounded), but honestly all it's done is made me reevaluate how much I'm willing to let them in our lives going forward. Because I won't put us through another situation like we had with the ex friends. They did damage that lingers nearly three years later.

And they don't care.

Regardless, we had a passel of similarly aged boys over on Saturday to run about in the mud and rain shooting Nerf guns, whacking at Fortnite-themed pinatas, and eating way more cake than was good for them. It was a jolly time had by all and I spent the time marveling that this young man--because he really is becoming exactly that--is ours.

He's a blessing directly from Jesus and I can't ever possibly express how grateful I am for him.