Privilege

As I sit here breathing in the smell of my son who lies in my arms I know privilege.

The gift of full arms, of a full heart is so obvious to me. Yet others seem to feel the need to tell me how lucky he is, how fortunate.

I’m not sure if my view of adoption is different to others but I know without a doubt how privileged I am to call this boy, my son.

Each day I get to witness his smile, to hold his hand in mine, to hear him cry out for me his Mama.

I get to love this precious one.

That is my idea of pure privilege.

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