Mine

It's the national anthem in the land of two year olds. They sing it loud and proud. Mine, mine, mine. I'd like to say that I've left the home country and declared my cititzenship as an adult. The truth is I like to sing the familiar song of home, mine, mine, mine.

I sing it in my heart every time an issue comes up with the babies. I've had them since their lifespan was calculated in weeks, not years. They have spent their entire life in my home; they are not mine.

It would be nice if I could take comfort in the fact that I do have children that are mine; I can't. I have no more control over the actual life and death matters of the children that I bore. The fact of the matter is that I cannot truly claim another as mine. Not my parents, not my husband, not my kids, and certainly not my foster children.

I know that there will be a day when there are no children in my home. It is the way it was designed. Whether they were born of my body or born of my heart, they will leave. It is statistically most likely that either my husband or myself will spend some time on this earth after the other has left it. All we know for sure that we have is today.

I can take comfort in the fact that they are with me. Today, when we woke, we had six happy (that term is relative), healthy children in our home. Many children have come and gone through our house over the years. Each one spent a season of their life here, each one has taught me something. I hope that they say that their time here was positive. I hope that there is more good, than bad. I hope that they know that I am only human, and that I tried. I hope they know that there was a time in their life, that this mom sang the song of her childhood for them. You are mine, mine, mine.