He Belongs to Me

It is impossible to "own" another person. A human soul is not even owned by God, even though we are His children. He has given us agency to make the choice of whether we will come to Him or not.

In some places in the world and in this country's not so ancient history it was possible to purchase another human being. But what were you buying? A pair of hands to work? A strong back to carry the load? Even if you were to purchase another person you could never own their thoughts or feelings.

In some parts of the world, people view thier spouses and children as posessions, to be used when necessary and the rest of the time expected to be still and remember their place. Or else traded like pawns, in a game to solidify or advance one's position in their society.

I know that I do not own my son. And I would not want to. And yet somehow I find myself extremely and even increasingly possessive. "He Belongs to Me," I say when someone asks. He is not a possession like a handbag or even a home. And yet he does belong to me. I am his mommy. The one who gets up in the night to feed him and change him. The person who looks forward to dressing him each day (and sometimes several times per day.) The one who gives him his bath and washes the cradle cap out of his hair. Who cleans up the the messes when he eats too much too fast. The one who's day is not complete without his smile or his cry. Who holds him until my arm falls asleep and keeps rocking until he's fast asleep. So he belongs to me.

I am well aware of the fact that we share no physical connection. I did not carry him for nine months or feel him move and grow within me. And yet somehow even without that, he is mine. The way his head turns to find me when he hears my voice. The way his arms reach out for me, the way his tiny little fist wraps around my finger while he eats, all tell me, he belongs to me.

I have no idea why I'm dwelling on this now when I should be packing or emptying the dishwasher or finishing the laundry before our trip. I just know that as we were rocking to sleep tonight I felt overwhelmed (as always) that he is mine. DNA & blood type be damned. Body, heart, soul and mind, this angel boy belongs to me.

Okay, sometimes I share him with his daddy. But still...