every couple of weeks or so, and they always start with the same question: how’s the fam? I used to get a sense of
dread when the tell-tale chirp on my phone followed by her number arrived. I
was afraid of what it meant to me, my family. It was a reminder that this
little piece of life isn’t what I had planned it to be. It was a reminder that
I wasn’t the first mamma.
different first moms. But only one that I’ve ever actually talked to. Just one
that I have built a relationship with. The oldest three we adopted from foster
care, long after the birth parents had been out of the picture. But the babe,
my little beasty, we adopted at birth.
this woman who delivered my son. I had spent time with her and I was there in the
delivery room to cut the cord. I called my husband into the room to meet his
son. I did midnight feedings and worried over fevers. I watched his first steps
and I kiss is scrapes (and he’s 110% boy, so there’s a lot of those). But when
her number came up on my phone I still felt threatened. It’s silly, really. But
birth mother and adoptive family and sometimes I don’t quite know where black
turns to grey turns to white. But I do know that the boundary lines are often
covered in fears and insecurities and I’m still learning to let that go. It
should be easy for me, knowing that she’s already given so much.
a little girl with a Hebrew nick-name. Another the shape of a little boy who
loves super heroes. Still another the shape of a little girl with an artist’s
skill. I had though all the holes had been filled, each missing puzzle piece
fit nicely into its place. I didn’t know until I held that baby that there was
still a missing piece, which he filled perfectly. I can only imagine what that
missing piece in her heart feels like. The one that was patched thinly with a
band-aid of text messages and pictures, but the scar is still there. I can’t imagine the arms that feel empty after
they once held that little life. I can’t fathom the sacrifice that she has
made, the one that led to so much joy in my family.
my boy and his birth mom. Probably sooner than later. And I worry for what that
will mean to my other kids. The ones who we have no contact with biological
moms and dads. My Bot-Bot wants nothing to do with her birth mom. Which I
understand. Lil’ Girl is ambivalent and X-man wants to meet his siblings. Yet
there is no guarantee that they will interact with that part of their history.
beasty will be impacted by this relationship. It will stretch me and pull me to
see him in that role. So I pray for grace. For myself and for my family. I hope
that when the time comes, he is secure in himself and secure in his family to
know that no matter where he is, he is loved greatly.
and adoptive mom. For brokenness to made whole and fear to be removed. For text
messages and pictures. For that day when we meet again and I introduce her to