The Light of My Life

My journey to motherhood has been long and very convoluted. To say that things haven't turned out as I had hoped they could would be a gross understatement. However I can best describe my feelings with the old saying, "Whenever God closes a door, he opens a window."
One of the unexpected blessings of my trial with infertility is the time I've been given to get to know this young man:

Isn't he magnificent?
I can honestly say that had I been tending my own babies for the past 6 years I would not have paid nearly as much attention to my little step-son. He is, after all, quite a character and not at all what you'd expect a young man of his circumstances to be like. He would have been so very easy to brush off, had I had the excuse of taking care of my own children.
Instead, luckily, he and I have grown very close during our time together. In fact, I don't think it would be a stretch to say that we actually spend more one on one time than he spends with either of his biological parents. Thanks to his mom's lifestyle preferences, I am his weekend parent. Thanks to his father's relentless work schedule, I am often a single weekend parent.
Together my little buddy and I have explored the depths of Utah County, venturing into nearly every child-friendly zone in the driveable area (usually because I'm looking for something that a boisterous and energetic child can do to kill some time on a lazy Saturday afternoon). We have gone on innumerable adventures: from Provo's River Trails, to art and natural history museums, to magical lands of fantasy that exist only in our imaginations.

I have not always been a perfect parent, but he has always been perfectly forgiving of my faults. He is, without a doubt, one of my top 2 favorite people on this earth.
Now don't get me wrong, I'm not his "mommy," nor do I ever intend to be. Motherhood is sacred territory and I don't dare to say that I am more deserving of that title than the woman who selflessly brought him in to this world, has sacrificed so much to keep him in her life, and has so humbly allowed his father and I to play such a large role in his upbringing. I have, however, been blessed to be there during such monumental occasions as his first steps, his first loose tooth, potty training, sleep training, batch after batch of chocolate chip cookies (he always likes to lick the bowl), and countless bedtime stories (sloppy kisses included, free of charge). I was lucky enough to be the one who taught him how to read, how to tie his shoes, how to pray. On Saturday, I taught him the lifestyle and feeding habits of the 3-toed sloth after days of intense interrogation. Today, I taught him how to borrow while doing subtraction.

I am constantly in awe of his cheerfulness, his quick wit, his outgoing personality, his athleticism, his quickness to forgive, his selflessness, his desire to constantly do better, and his resilience. He is wonderful. I am so grateful that he has been there with me to unknowingly bolster me up when things have gotten tough. There have been times where the only thing keeping me going has been the knowledge that no matter what, Friday will always come again and he will arrive full of sunshine and joy. He has a way of keeping me going when even his dear father can't get through to me. And strange as it sounds, I am actually kind of glad that he's been my only child for all these years. I would have missed out on so much had things worked out how I had originally planned.
So while I can truthfully say that I hope he doesn't remain an only child much longer, if the unthinkable happens and I never have any babies of my own, I'll be okay just being his "nana."