Dear Child, It Is My Joy To Care For You

A Gift for Mom! 🤍

I was sitting at my laptop typing away at a letter to my son’s school. He had slipped on ice and knocked himself out—I was sharing a detailed timeline with the assistant principal and his special education teacher.

“Mommy?”

“Yes, son.”

“I’m sorry,” tears begin to well in his baby blue eyes.

I put aside my laptop and sighed. Now what? I was pretty fried from the last 24 hours and just didn’t have any energy for life in general. The house looked like there was a war between the medical equipment and stuffed animals. I’m not sure who won but the casualties were great. The trash reeked, the dishes were piled in the sink, and I wasn’t sure when I had showered last.

“Son,” I began patiently after a deep breath, “what are you sorry for?”

“I’m sorry I make so much extra work for you. I’m sorry you have to do all these extra things,” he hung his head and cried.

At this point, a little part of my heart died. It died because he’s 12.

When you are 12, you shouldn’t have to worry about the work you make for a parent.

You should be spending time playing video games, hanging out with friends, or driving your parents batty.

I’m not sorry.

From the moment we adopted my son and brought him into our home, he breathed life and fire. My quiet, organized life was replaced by chaos, bath toys, and PBS shows. We knew he had multiple needs, but I also knew he was fearfully and wonderfully made.

Yes, some days do feel like an uphill battle of IEP meetings, doctors, and diagnoses. But when I look into the eyes of this child who I was told wouldn’t talk, would always be delayed, and may lose the ability to walk, I am not sorry.

Not for one second.

“Son,” I began tentatively, gathering him into my arms and praying I wouldn’t screw this up, “I’m your mommy. I love you. You aren’t extra work for me. I love taking care of you and nothing makes me happier. You are my joy.”

The sniffles and tears dried up slowly. I held him and tried to hug the hurt and pain away.

We sat for a while, both of us wrapped in each other’s arms and our own thoughts. He brightened up slowly and asked to play a game. I agreed and he left to choose it while I breathed a sigh of relief and a prayer that I said the right things. That he will be OK.

No, I’m not sorry. I’m stronger than I used to be, wiser, and proud of my children. They are my joy. I’ll never be sorry for reaching out and meeting their extra needs. It’s my honor and privilege to do so.

So God Made a Grandmother book by Leslie Means

If you liked this, you'll love our book, SO GOD MADE A GRANDMA

Order Now!

Amy Fields

Amy Fields is a wife, adoptive mother, and advocate. She enjoys spending time with her family, reading, and trying to figure out where missing socks and Tupperware lids go. You can find her blog at www.manykindsoffams.blogspot.com and on Facebook at Many Kinds of Families.

These Moms on the Sidelines Became My People

In: Motherhood

Moms with arms around each other watching baseball

Spending hours on end on a ballfield on Mother’s Day may not sound ideal to most, but the ones who get it know that it’s about so much more than watching young kids play ball. It’s about the instant bonds you make with families who end up becoming like your own family. It’s being surrounded by people who cheer for your kid louder than you do yourself. It’s about being lucky enough to have a pack of moms who will care for your child in your absence and send you pics and videos of what you are missing when you...

Keep Reading

I Wanted Experts to Fix My Child with ADHD. Instead, They Changed Me.

In: Motherhood

Little boy sitting at table talking to adult

I thought the experts were going to fix my child. I didn’t say that out loud. But it was there…quiet, desperate, sitting underneath every question I asked. If I just found the right strategy… If I just understood ADHD well enough… If I just listened hard enough… Maybe the meltdowns would stop. Maybe the chaos would settle. Maybe I would finally feel like I knew what I was doing. So I started asking questions. Over the past year, I’ve had the opportunity to interview ADHD experts (clinicians, researchers, specialists) through my podcast. And I showed up to every conversation like...

Keep Reading

Parenting a Child with a Disability Is Holy Ground

In: Motherhood

Some moments in motherhood stay with you. First steps. Preschool graduation. A first dance recital. And then there are harder times. The ones that do not make it into photo albums. The moments when the world feels too big and your child feels painfully misunderstood. When you are parenting a child with a disability, those moments tend to find you more often. This day should have felt like a win. My son had just met a goal in therapy. We walked out of his OT’s office smiling, carrying a page full of lopsided circles that had never looked more perfect...

Keep Reading

I Came Home With a Baby—and Lost Myself

In: Motherhood

I don’t think people truly believe me when I say I came back from the depths of hell after having my son. Birth is often portrayed as pure bliss. The moment a mother holds her baby and instantly falls in love. Life quickly returns to normal. Even in real life, new moms can look like they’ve settled into motherhood with ease. But what no one talks about is the ugly, incredibly hard side of it. Not every mom experiences postpartum depression, anxiety, or OCD. For some, it really is bliss. But for many of us, it becomes a fight for...

Keep Reading

He Doesn’t Always Need Me Anymore and I’m Not Sure How To Feel About It

In: Motherhood

Little boy playing with toys on the floor alone

There is a moment nobody warns you about. Not the sleepless nights. Not the feeding schedules. Not the endless cycle of laundry and worry that comes with keeping a tiny human alive. Those parts everyone mentions. The part nobody mentions is the moment you realize your child has started becoming his own person. And you are standing there watching it happen, equal parts proud and completely unprepared. My son is two years old. And lately he has been leaving the room. Not in a concerning way. In a he has somewhere to be kind of way. He will be in...

Keep Reading

We Keep Calling Her Confident, But She Doesn’t Trust Herself

In: Motherhood

I remember the exact moment it hit me. I was talking to a young girl, the kind everyone praises. She was polite, well spoken, respectful. The kind of girl people point to and say, “She’s so confident.” So I asked her a question I knew would reveal more than her smile ever could: “What do you do when something doesn’t feel right?” She froze. Not in a dramatic way, but in a quiet, almost invisible way. She looked down, shifted her weight, then looked back up at me, searching my face like the answer might be written there. Because she...

Keep Reading

I Knew Something Was Wrong, But No One Listened—And It Almost Cost Me My Daughter

In: Motherhood

After the traumatic birth of my daughter, I searched for others who had experienced vasa previa, but most of what I found were support groups for stillbirth. It’s easy to understand why; vasa previa is one of the most preventable causes of stillbirth, and yet most people, including most pregnant women, have never heard of it. My daughter is almost three years old, and I still carry a complicated guilt about that: why did we get to be the lucky ones? I want to share my story—not to frighten you, but because awareness is the only thing that saves lives...

Keep Reading

I Finally Admitted I Didn’t Want To Be a SAHM Anymore

In: Motherhood

For most of my life, I believed becoming a stay-at-home mom wasn’t just a choice, it was the ultimate goal. The kind of life a “good” woman was meant to want. The kind of life that meant you were doing things right. I grew up surrounded by that message. In conservative spaces, in church circles, in subtle conversations about what a “real” mother looked like. Women who stayed home were praised. Women who didn’t were quietly questioned. I learned, without ever being directly told, that a mother’s highest purpose was to center her entire world around her children and her...

Keep Reading

I’m Not Really Sure How To Do This Teenager Thing

In: Motherhood, Teen

I was not prepared to be a mother of teenagers. Sure, I was warned by other parents about the difficult journey I was about to embark on, but I did not expect it to be this challenging. I remember these two sweet, innocent children who wanted to be with me all the time. Now they barely give me the time of day. How did we get here? Like many parents, we long to have that child who once, a long time ago, called us Mommy and Daddy and begged us to read them another story. Where are those kids I...

Keep Reading

Why Don’t We Talk About Jonah’s Mother?

In: Faith, Living, Motherhood

Praying for My Son Send a storm to stop him; Let his friends throw him out. May he drop to the deeps, But gently, please, Stubborn though he may be. If it could only take three days, How my mother’s heart would Rejoice in praise. From the hell you allow him, Let him cry to you. Is not Nineveh and mercy Exactly what he knows He needs— A mercy on enemies He fears You will concede? Please let all the shade wither If his is an angry soul; Humble him and help him follow Where you would have his purpose...

Keep Reading

To the Daddy Who Didn't Have To Be

Motherhood

To the Daddy Who Didn't Have To Be

To My Father-In-Law in Heaven, You Would Be So Proud of the Man Your Son Became

Grief

Dear Child, It Is My Joy To Care For You

“I’m sorry,” tears begin to well in his baby blue eyes.

When you are 12, you shouldn’t have to worry about the work you make for a parent.

Not for one second.

If you liked this, you'll love our book, SO GOD MADE A GRANDMA

Amy Fields

These Moms on the Sidelines Became My People

I Wanted Experts to Fix My Child with ADHD. Instead, They Changed Me.

Parenting a Child with a Disability Is Holy Ground

I Came Home With a Baby—and Lost Myself

He Doesn’t Always Need Me Anymore and I’m Not Sure How To Feel About It

We Keep Calling Her Confident, But She Doesn’t Trust Herself

I Knew Something Was Wrong, But No One Listened—And It Almost Cost Me My Daughter

I Finally Admitted I Didn’t Want To Be a SAHM Anymore

I’m Not Really Sure How To Do This Teenager Thing

Why Don’t We Talk About Jonah’s Mother?

Get It Now

So God Made a Mother

Dear Child, It Is My Joy To Care For You

“I’m sorry,” tears begin to well in his baby blue eyes.

When you are 12, you shouldn’t have to worry about the work you make for a parent.

Not for one second.

If you liked this, you'll love our book, SO GOD MADE A GRANDMA

These Moms on the Sidelines Became My People

I Wanted Experts to Fix My Child with ADHD. Instead, They Changed Me.

Parenting a Child with a Disability Is Holy Ground

I Came Home With a Baby—and Lost Myself

He Doesn’t Always Need Me Anymore and I’m Not Sure How To Feel About It

We Keep Calling Her Confident, But She Doesn’t Trust Herself

I Knew Something Was Wrong, But No One Listened—And It Almost Cost Me My Daughter

I Finally Admitted I Didn’t Want To Be a SAHM Anymore

I’m Not Really Sure How To Do This Teenager Thing

Why Don’t We Talk About Jonah’s Mother?

Previous Post

Next Post

You May Also Like