I have a friend who, pretty much right up until she delivered, wasn’t entirely sure about the whole becoming a mother thing. She took to it fine, and is a great mom with awesome kids, but until she actually became a parent she wasn’t a big fan of children and didn’t necessarily consider herself mom material.
My sister is the opposite.
If ever there was a girl born to motherhood, it is her. She’s been a caregiver from day one; she started babysitting earlier (and kept at it longer) than anyone I know. As a college student, she collected roommates who needed mothering, and she’s been taking care of all of us in the family for as long as I can remember.
Last fall – as she’s written about here on the blog – she and my brother-in-law welcomed a baby into their home as foster parents, and she finally got to be mom to an actual baby, instead of, well… everyone. She and Chris both took to it like naturals, and to say Little Man thrived in their care would be an understatement. (I generally referred to him as “baby never-missed-a-meal.”)
Of course, fostering isn’t often a forever situation, and it proved not to be in this case. They’ve known since March that their sweet boy would be leaving, but because the wheels of bureaucracy turn slowly, he was with them until this morning, when he was transitioned to a member of his birth family.
I don’t know how to finish this post; I’ve been trying for a while, and words are just failing me. To say that I am brokenhearted for them, and sad for our whole family – because in addition to becoming their beloved son, Little Man was also a nephew, a cousin, and a grandson – doesn’t scratch the surface. Come this fall, there will be another baby in their lives, and Eileen will get to be a mom (and Chris a dad) once again, but they – and we – will always have a spot in our hearts for Little Man.