Letter "Y" is a post I have had in my mind and in my heart for quite some time. In my Transracial Adoption ABCs, the letter "Y" is for "yours".

When you adopt a child, that child is yours. Adoption is not long-term babysitting. It is not an act of charity or a good deed. It is a way to expand your family, and it legally creates a relationship of parents and child.

There is a lot of emphasis put on the importance of birth parents, birth families and birth countries and cultures. It is true that adopted children have other people and places that they "belong to" on some level, and their importance in who are children are and where they have come from should not be minimized or ignored. Some of my children do have other parents who are alive and may become an active part of their lives as they grow older. Some of my children do have other countries and cultures that they may choose to return to some day. I know that and I respect that and I embrace that.

However, I also fiercely claim these children as mine. Legally, emotionally and physically, these are my kids. To give them the full amount of love and dedication that they deserve, and to give them the sense of security that they truly belong in our family as much as their siblings, I have to love them wholly as mine and claim them in my heart as my children.

Often when we go out with our 10 kids, people will ask, "Which ones are really yours?" I know what the mean. I know that they are asking which kids I gave birth to. But I always respond with, "they all are." For one, I figure if the person asking the question can't figure out that the Asian kids and the black kids are PROBABLY the ones that were adopted, then they aren't worth the effort anyhow. But more importantly, they are all really my kids, and I want my kids to hear me say so.

When you adopt a child, that child is yours. When he cries in the middle of the night because he is lonely, he is yours. When he covers himself, head to toe, in strawberry jam, he is yours. When he falls and scrapes his knee, he is yours. When he is scared of monsters, throwing up on the hallway carpet, crying because he got picked on in school, frustrated with math problems and any of the eight million other times he needs a mom or dad, he is yours.

He is yours for the good things too. When he learns how to walk, celebrates his birthdays, rides his first bicycle, shows you his art projects, waves as he goes off the school, scores his first goal in soccer, gives and receives hugs and kisses each night at bedtime and all of the eight million other joyous daily treasures of being a parent, he is yours.

While my children's birth parents did not want me to forget about them or discount the role that they play in my children's lives, they also did not want me to only love these kids half-way, or to give them only a part of my dedication, effort and heart. To be the best mom I can be to my kids, I have to claim them. I have to love them all as my children.

Adoption is one way to become a parent. It is not a second best choice or a second rate choice. An adopted child is yours, just as a child you give birth to is yours.

My advice to adoptive parents is to fully love your children, and claim them as your own. Give them a true sense of belonging. Fill their hearts with the knowledge that they are yours, and fill your heart with gratitude because they are yours.

I told Josh that I want a shirt printed up with the simple saying, "Yes. They are ALL mine."