My son knows he's adopted.
I mean, as much as a four-year-old can understand what that really means.
The other night, as I snuggled with him before he fell asleep, he suddenly blurted out, "Why do I have two moms and two dads?"
"Well, because you're adopted. And that means that you were in someone else's tummy but you get to grow up in our family. You're very lucky because a lot of people only have one mom and one dad to love them but you have two! That's very special."
More than ever before, he knows that his life situation is unique. We are open about it. If he asks questions, we answer them. If he wants to hear a story, we tell it.
So I think, for the very first time, Matthew's Adoption Day will mean something to him. We've told him that today is the day we celebrate his legal adoption. He's picked a restaurant for lunch. I plan to make a very big deal about how very blessed we are to have him in our lives.
It's hard for me to believe that three years have passed. In some ways, it feels like it all happened last week. In other ways, it seems an eternity has drifted by since that day. The weight of those first thirteen and a half months has lifted and the fear and anxiety are only a vague memory with blurred emotions around the edges.
And we love.
And I am proud.
And I scold.
And we hug.
And I teach what I can. Lessons learned.
And we dance together, my son and I.
This journey could never have been imagined. It can be hard. It is not always what I expected. But it is our story and it is a blessed one. So today I celebrate the legal adoption of my son.
Oh happy, happy day.