Oh, how my husband and I cherished that precious baby boy! We didn’t know any of the details of his biological mother’s struggles and challenges, traits that may have been passed down to her baby. But even if we had known, it would not have mattered. Nothing could possibly diminish the powerful love we had for our son, the future of possibilities that lay before him like a fresh canvas waiting for the strokes of paint that would transform it into a beautiful picture. We were confident that our parental love, consistent training, and nurturing of his personality and talents would all work together to mold this child into a respectable, responsible young man. An adult who would eventually enjoy fulfilling relationships, a successful, satisfying career, and a desire to use his abilities to make a difference in the world. Isn’t that what every parent dreams for their children?
Like parents everywhere, we observed with hawk-like attention every emerging tendency, trying to discern which ones were positive, which ones were negative, and which ones simply needed to be redirected. That abundant energy and non-stop motion . . . is that normal, simply because he is a boy, or is it something that needs to be reigned in and controlled? The fascination with sci-fi creatures and fantasy books . . . is it an obsession that he will eventually outgrow, or should we try to redirect him to alternate interests? That stubborn, independent streak . . . won’t he need that characteristic some day when his peers try to convince him to try something illegal or immoral? Almost daily I would pray for wisdom in mothering him, this child whose passions, personality, and pursuits were so completely unfamiliar to me.