I love the harvest season: sweater weather, crisp mornings, autumn colours, abundance and the balance of giving and receiving. It symbolizes something ending, other things growing … and new beginnings unfolding. 

This particular season brought many things anew for Dames and me. While we never fertilized in the biological sense, we finally welcomed a son and daughter into our lives. 

Thanksgiving is our first holiday as a family of five (four humans and a dog). It’s been just over a month since our wildlings moved in, and life is vastly different now—but in the most fascinating ways. I have no idea what it truly means to be a mother just yet, but I know this: I’ve never loved so fiercely in my life.

In just a few short weeks, we’ve given the kids so many firsts: their first swim in the lake, their first festival, and their first sight of the northern lights. Each new experience feels like a shared victory, a step closer to knitting ourselves together as a family. We’re all adjusting, learning about each other with anxious curiosity. They love their new school and neighbourhood friends, and they’ve even started sharing bits of their past with us as we create new memories.

Bath time has become our little ritual of calm in the storm; some serenity at the end of a hectic day. Sleep, well, sleep is still precarious, but when they do rest—my heart—it’s like the world pauses for a moment, and all I can see is how precious they are. I have so many questions and feelings swirling inside me, but I’m not in any rush to find the answers. We’re taking it day by day, knowing that we have the rest of our lives to figure it all out.

Parenting, I’m discovering, is both beautifully frustrating and magnificently fulfilling. Life has radically shifted. Board meetings have been replaced with board games. I barely write because I’m reading bedtime stories to little ones who fall asleep on my lap. Independence has evolved into the privilege of these little humans depending on me. And for everything they’ve endured in their young lives, they are full of hugs, laughter, and joy. They love playing with Daddy, dancing with me, and walking Chevy, who is just as obsessed with them as they are with him.

I’m in awe of how into health and wellness they are asking if they can workout with me or go for a walk. They recite what has become their daily positive affirmation: “I am strong, I am brave, and I can do hard things,” which they have learned from their coach at my gym. The flexing of their muscles after they eat something green is what gets me.

And I’ve been utterly overwhelmed by the generosity and support we’ve received from family and friends. Books are our love language, and we have built an incredible library from the gifts we’ve received. Presents of art, music and games fills their free time with creative play and imaginative learning. Thoughtful contributions have helped decorate their bedrooms (oh, how proud they are to have their own rooms for the first time!), and prepared meals delivered to our doorstep have nourished our souls. The kids have also been showered with gift cards, which we use to empower them at the shops to pick out what clothes and toys they like and want. Our daughter is beaming and says, “All these people are so nice to me!” And it hits hard when our six-year-old son says, “Really, mom, I get to pick out my own things?” I’ll never find the words to express my appreciation and admiration for my village, which has warmly embraced the new branches on my tree.

This is life now. It’s still surreal. It was love at first sight. I’m navigating the days with two tiny strangers in tow. Professional ambitions have taken a back seat because of the new personal promotion life has given me: the title of Mom. This is a position I’ve been fighting for, and I’m all in.

Our house is messier, but it’s fuller. Little hands shake me awake at 3 a.m., but then we all gather around the table for meals, and there’s a quiet magic in those moments. When they get on the school bus, waving goodbye, it hits me—I am really their mama. And every time I leave, whether for work, groceries, or the gym, they ask me, “Mommy, are you coming back?” There’s a sense of feared abandonment in their blue eyes as they cautiously hold my hand. It’s then that I’m reminded how they’ve never had this sense of security before, and I’ve never had this sense of responsibility.

So here we are, a mama and her wildlings, navigating this strange, beautiful new life together. I am so thankful that the stars aligned to bring us here. Adoption is a complex and complicated way to become a family, but I would go through anything to ensure these two littles have everything they need to thrive and grow.

This Thanksgiving, I’m giving thanks for the mess, for the chaos, for the joy, for the journey—and for our table now set for a party of five.

Mad love and a grateful heart,

Nicxo

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📸: taken by my dear pal, Lee, an aurora borealis chaser, who responded to a spontaneous text asking where she was on a night the northern lights were shining bright. She showed my children the stars and gifted us with this photo memory.