Today Judson turns 6.
I always feel a deeper connection to Judson’s Birth Mom on this day. The woman who carried him in her womb, who felt the first tinge of labor pain.
I wonder if she felt excitement that she was about to meet her child or did she feel nervous that she was about to be responsible for another life?
I wonder where she was when her water broke. Did she have her Mom coaching her through the early stages of labor? Or was she alone and an outcast because of her young age?
I wonder how long her labor was and if she had someone beside her to encourage her and hold her hand.
I wonder if the sun was shining of was their rain falling on her roof that day.
I think about the moment she made that final push and discovered she had a son. Did she cry for joy, count his toes, touch his nose, and marvel at how perfect he was? On that first night did she just hold him close and snuggle him?
Did she have any idea she would only hold this perfect baby boy for 19 months? Was fear rising within her because she didn’t know how she was going to provide for him? Did she know she would one day entrust a foreign, unknown American family to raise her son?
I think about this new baby boy too. How much did he weigh? How long was he? Did he have a lot of hair? Was he hard to soothe or was he an easy newborn? Did he like to sleep on his back or his side?
Did he feel completely loved in those first moments?
And then I think about that day six years ago and I have zero recollection of what I was doing on the day this baby boy was born. According to @kelstew, I was “Out and about doing some work,” and I was “Trying a diet cherTy limeaid for a change. Living on the Edge this Friday afternoon.” While hopefully what I share on social media is a bit more thought provoking these days, the reality is that I don’t remember.
I bear the name Judson’s mom and I have no idea where I was on the day of his birth.
While I grieve the lack of information on this day six years ago, I also rest in the knowledge that God knows every detail of each moment of Judson’s life. While I can’t share with him how big he was or what the day was like, I can point him to the One who does. I can point him to his Heavenly Father who breathed life into his lungs and has orchestrated every step he will take, who knew Judson would begin his life in rural Africa, loved by one Mom and continue his journey with a mom, who lived in a far off place, with skin that does not match his own at the age of 2.
I think about Judson’s Africa Mom today. I hope she has moments today where she remembers him, the day she gave birth, the smell of his baby skin and the love she has for him. I pray she rests in the knowledge that he is safe, he is healthy and he is loved. I’m thankful she has her own memories with him that are hers alone. I treasure the thought that there is knowledge in her heart and mind about her Obsi that no one else can know.
Judson turns six today.1 likey