From the time I was a 12 or so, I can remember wanting to help unfortunate people, parentless children, and third world countries. I dreamed about helping them to experience happiness through simple everyday things I can and do take for granted. Even as a child, I could sense that life is too short to take for granted. At 12, I cried knowing that my parents would die. That with all the years ahead of me, it would never seem like enough. That it would pass me by in a blink of an eye. And now, I am here at 32 with my own children knowing that the next 20 years will be as short as the last 20.
Wanting to provide a better life for children consumes my life. I can waste hours reading family blogs that chronicle their journey through adoption. As I read the blogs, I envy their choice to take a road less travelled in terms of building a family. By reading the words, I feel the happiness they feel as they meet their child for the first time by picture and in person. Holding them. Kissing them. Smelling them. Wrapping yourself around them to embrace all that is them. Heart. Mind. And Soul. And since I can not decide, a perfect option would be a 4 year old and a 11-14 year old. A child needs a chance at a better life. A child yearns for parents to love them unconditionally. A child wants a home. A child wants to be embraced with love from a mom and dad.
Of course, I truly believe my OCD will effect my ability of being a good mom to more kiddos. Therefore, I love reading about the happiness of other adoptive families.
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