“A child born to another woman call me mom. The depth of the tragedy and the magnitude of the privilege are not lost on me.” -Judy Landers
My son frequently tells me that I’m his favorite mama. During his first few weeks home, he would tell me that he was going to go back to Guangzhou to be with his other mama (usually when he was mad at me). However, during the last month or so, he’ll say “I love my mama. This is my favorite mama.”
Initially, I thought it was the sweetest thing, until my mama brain really dissected that last sentence. This is my favorite mama. How awful for a 4 year old to have known more than one mama. I am his “favorite”, but I wasn’t his first. There was his biological mom (his belly mama), then (according to his recollection) two other foster moms. I am mama #4. Three other women were responsible for my child making his way to me. I am grateful to them and for them.
Adoption is rooted in loss, let that never be forgotten. But isn’t it beautiful to know that the Lord provides redemption through adoption. Each of those three other mamas were predestined to care for my son during times when my own heart ached for him. I pray that each of those mamas somehow knows that his fourth and final mama loves him more than she loves herself and that she is grateful for their actions every single day.