The amazing part for me is I have loved other people's kids before. When I was a kid my mom took care of a little girl from down the street and I loved her. When my friend and I played house, she was my baby. My sister and I always found creative ways to make her laugh, like head-banging to "Big Guitar". Then I got older and started babysitting myself. I loved a little girl who once said the f-word to me at 3 years old, another who was terrified of the toilet and a 4 year old with a head full of curls. As I got older I fell in love with my friends' children and I honestly could not imagine loving my own children more.
I dreamed of my kids for as long as I can remember, their names changed throughout the years, as did their appearance and their imagined daddy. And when I was wheeled into the NICU and introduced to Logan for the first time, I can remember wondering if it was all real. In a way those 2 weeks are some of the most vivid memories of my life but at the same time they seem like a dream.
When the nurse put Eli on my chest I could hardly believe it was real. And as he has grown I've found myself holding on for the ride, sometimes wishing that this stage or that would be over or hurry up. And then he looks at me and calls me mommy and it stops me in my tracks...
How did it go so fast? From playing dolls to being charged with taking care of and teaching these two. How do I get this across to them, not to rush life away and to enjoy every experience. How do I teach myself that same lesson?
Sitting there watching Eli today I almost had to remind myself that he's not just another kid I love, the love that overwhelms me is explained every time he looks at me, cause he calls me mom.
