Tributes this Mother's Day

This day. This day is chock full of emotion. I get it.

• Prior to 2007 :: Mother's Day was only to be celebrated because I am blessed with a most incredible mother and two amazing grandmas.
• 2007-2008 :: We were in the thick of infertility treatments. I was aching to be a mom. Mother's Day plain sucked and I wanted to die in a hole.
• 2009 :: Hope emerged as we began our adoption journey. I also spoke at our church that Sunday. (The message can be found HERE)
• 2010 :: It was still just Brian and me.
• 2011 :: Then there were 4 Diaz's. My first Mother's Day.
• 2012 :: Then there were 5 Diaz's. Asher joined our family and actually came HOME from the NICU on Mother's Day. Well played, God.
• 2013 :: Celebrating motherhood with 3 healthy children.

On this day, I recognize those women who have forever changed me as a woman and as a mom.

Mom, you truly have shown me how to mother because of your never-ending sacrifice and love for your children. You always have time for us. Constantly celebrate with us. Pray diligently for us. Faithfully correct us. And you still love our Dad. Thank you for loving me in such a way that mothering has come natural to me. I love you.

Grandma Getz, since I was a little girl, you've shown me that it's okay to be me and have applauded my gifts, strengths, and passions. I hope I make you proud. Grandma Neukomm, you've loved your family faithfully and diligently. Thank you for your committed love for us and our God.

My mother-in-law - Laura, you've given me the greatest gift - your son! He is the most upright, loyal, strong, dedicated, loving, and faithful man I've ever known. Thank you for your part in raising him to be the man he is to me and our children.

My sisters-in-law - Zobeida, Liz, Vivian, and Sarah Beth. You are all, sincerely, amazing mothers. 11 kids between the 5 of our families. I'm deeply grateful that my kids get to call you "aunt". I love you all.

The women who long to be called "mom" - SK, BSM, KPS to name a few. I see you today and pray with you. This is not the end.

To the working moms all around me - Rebecca, Jeanne, Kara, Julie, Hana, Tara, Mindy. The way you love your children and are obedient to your calling takes my breath away and pushes me. You help me believe I, too, can do this. You inspire me to kick down walls for our daughters.

To the adoptive/foster care momma's who fill me with hope and joy and compassion, especially Erin. You remind me I'm not crazy. You validate, instruct, and give grace to my "kiddos from hard places" and remind me that parenting them isn't "just like" parenting my bio son. You affirm the great calling that is adoption and love me on the good and hard days.

Finally, to the mothers who made me a mom - Judah and Addise's birth mothers. I weep when I think of the necessary sacrifice you made for your son and daughter. It is my greatest privilege and pleasure to mother Abebayehu and Tarike. They would make you proud and filled with joy. We love them as our own, no matter what. You have my greatest respect and affection.

And now, a few pictures of the wonders that make today a very, very good day...

I love how they love each other.

The ones who call me "mommy". The sunglasses hide my tired eyes, my tears of gratitude, and the sparkle in my eyes that they bring to my life.

It really is unfair how cute my kids are. :)

Brian surprised me by taking us back to where 1-year ago we celebrated Mother's Day while Asher was in the NICU. This Mother's Day he partied with us.

Flowers from a friend who thanked me once again for giving that "real" Mother's Day talk 4 years ago.  A reminder that our whole stories are worth sharing. Always. And that sharing our pain really can become a platform for transformation.

Mother's Day 2012. Asher came home from the NICU!

2012 :: Leaving the hospital. The little nugget in the background is Asher.

One year later. Pure goodness.

Brotherly Love

One afternoon I was working from home on the couch. Brian and Addise were out running errands together, so it was just me and the boys. I was in the zone on my computer and things got suddenly quiet. You know in most cases if you have young children, this is probably no good. I was wrong.

As I snuck off the couch I "caught" Judah holding Asher...

I leaned in to see what was going on and I heard Judah whisper, "I love you baby brother, no matter what."  And then Judah kissed his baby brother.

About 20 minutes later a similar moment happened. Judah was snuggled on the ground next to Asher and whispered to him, "Love you so much, Asher".

Judah didn't know I was watching. It was a pure expression of his heart.

We've often prayed that Asher would be a healer for Judah and Addise. That in his little life that he would be filling the gaps in their spirit's that we didn't get to at Asher's age. In that moment, I sensed the Holy Spirit saying, "See, I'm doing it. I'm healing their hearts."

These are the moments when you know all the hard stuff is worth it.

First Mom. Forever Mom.

I think there must be something special between a mother and her son. Or maybe it's a special bond between a parent and their first-born child. Or maybe it's because I missed out on the first 2 1/2 years of his life. Whatever it is, the connection I have with Judah Abebayehu is indescribable.

Last month I had one of "those moments" as an adoptive mama. If you have an adopted child, you know these dreaded moments well. It's a moment where one of the losses that accompanies adoption comes out of no where and strikes you down. It's a moment when you thought everything was finally "normal" in your family and then a memory or reality hits you like lightening and you are forced into another level of grief for your child. After 2+ years of those moments, I've finally accepted "those moments" will happen for the rest of our lives. It's part of the reality of adoption.

I was driving home late from work one night. I hadn't seen the kiddos that day except for a few minutes in the morning, so I was just thinking about their day with daddy. Then, it hit me like a ton of bricks and hot tears filled my eyes.

I have mothered Judah for nearly the exact amount of time that his birth mom mothered him. Two years and one month...almost to the day. Finally, I have been Judah's mommy for as long as the woman who birthed him into this world.

Exiting the highway toward our house, tears poured down my face as I once again grieved his birth mother's loss, Judah's trauma, and our lost time with him. But I also grieved for the first time the thought of losing my son. I cannot imagine giving Judah up after caring for, nurturing, and loving this little boy. After feeding him thousands meals, giving him hundreds of baths, brushing his teeth, changing endless diapers and teaching him how to go potty in the toilet, teaching him how to count to 10 and what shapes and colors were, giving him a bazillion kisses and telling him "I love you" a quadrillion times, how could I let him go forever??????? It was an unfathomable feeling. It leveled me to consider - once again - his birth mother's sacrifice.

I met Judah's birth mom. She was young. She was beautiful. I'm quite certain she loved him. I'm sure she thinks of him every day and wonders if he is loved and cared for. She didn't give him up because she didn't love him. She gave him up because she could not keep him.

And therein lies the paradox of adoption. A beautiful life redeemed and restored and given hope, and another side of the story that continues to bear pain.

Ever observant and watchful.

He still loves sitting on my lap and learning.

My son. My boy. His forever mom.