I have four pregnant daughters right now. All four are married to men who’ve elected to provide well for them, so all four are stay-at-home mothers. It is only the first baby for one of them; the other three already have children.

In a family like ours, this isn’t the first time that I’ve been expecting four grandchildren at one time, it happened two years ago also. So far we’ve learned from the ultrasounds that three of these new babies will be girls. I already have a dozen grandchildren, by the time my own youngest child turns five in Pre-K, she’ll be an aunt to 16 nieces and nephews. Lord knows how many she’ll have by the time she finishes high school.

That’s what happens when you have 39 children.

Adopting 38 of them has resulted in some strenuously tough experiences and some wonderfully joyous times. It’s been a 20 year learning experience for me, often feeling along the walls in the dark, trying to find my way. There seems to have been no instruction manual, certainly no one size fits all, as I seemed to have found the absolutely most unique children, with their very own special needs, issues, strong points and what all they’ve brought to the party, so to speak.

The grandchildren however are all I ever wanted them to be. Their parents, my children, have all done well, have raised them beautifully, and they are such fun. They love to come to my house, the party house, because I still have so many young children myself…to say nothing of the goose, the chickens, barn cats and five dogs. A swimming pool, huge sandbox, trampolines, bikes and trikes, toys and playground equipment certainly add to the draw. In the summer there’s all the goodies from the gardens plus I let everyone get good and dirty, digging alongside me, or somewhere in the vicinity.

I can look at these beautiful next generation children and finally comprehend that my sacrifices, my hard work and my hard-headed, stubborn determination has paid off, we’ve escaped generational curses and dysfunctional settings that once sent my children from their birth families into foster care. My grandchildren will only know what their parents chose to tell them about their pasts. They’ll only know love and affection and a very proud Abuelita as they call me. I’m a blessed woman.