Good Morning Everyone,
It's Mother's Day this Sunday, so all week I will be posting stories about mothers. This is my tribute to all Mother's out there, and if anyone else has something to contribute, please throw it in.
Mom
I did not become a mother in the conventional way. I could
have chosen to get pregnant, but my husband and I decided to
start our family instead through adoption - the adoption of
special-needs children waiting for home and family.
We knew we were going to face the raised eyebrows and rude
questions, but we still felt this was the right route for us.
Someday, I may give birth to a child, and I know that experience
will be incredible and moving in its own special way. Just as
the night I first became a mother.
We were adopting brothers - Jesse, age five, and Mario, age
four. One look at the pictures of the boys as they had been
discovered, dangerously underweight and sickly, had banished any
doubts we might have had. We had accepted them wholeheartedly
before we even met. But would they accept us?
Rather than sharing a first bath, or feeding my child for
the very first time, I found myself sitting cross-legged on the
floor of a stranger's home, trying unsuccessfully to snap two
pieces of plastic together in order to form a Lego submarine
with one my new sons.
I couldn't keep my eyes off my boys' faces. Mario's hands
flew over the speedboat he was constructing, though occasionally
he would stop to look at me and make sure I was still there. He
was gorgeous - long eyelashes dusting his cheeks, big hazel eyes
fixed intently on the project at hand. I couldn't believe he
was four; he was so small, looking more like a two-year-old, and
I cringed as I thought about the "before" pictures I had seen
earlier. Now, he looked almost stout - chubby legs running back
and forth, carrying toys he wanted to show us. He was so happy,
so trusting.
Jesse, on the other hand, seemed much older than his five
years. Though he was due to turn six in just a few months, he
carried himself more like an eight- or nine-year-old - very
serious and extremely concerned about his brother's welfare and
behavior. We watched as he corrected Mario several times
throughout the evening and protectively hovered over him,
ensuring that these strangers - his new parents - wouldn't harm
the little brother he had worked all of his short life to
protect and raise.
Would he ever let us take over the parenting chores so that
he, himself, could be a child - not again, but for the very
first time? I hoped there was still a small window where the
ability to trust a grown-up could enter Jesse's young life. Had
I taken on more than I knew how to handle?
"Mom, will you unhand me that piece?" I heard a small voice
next to me ask.
The voice came again, this time a little louder.
"Mom, will you hand me that piece, please?"
I turned to look at Jesse to let him know his foster mother
had left the room for a minute, but I stopped in mid-sentence
because I could see he was looking at me.
Mom...?
"Do...do...you mean me, Jesse?" I asked quietly.
He nodded his head solemnly and pointed over my shoulder.
"I need that piece on the table," he said, his dark eyes
focusing on mine.
I reached behind me, took the small, blue piece from the
coffee table and handed it to him. He smiled.
"Thank you," he said politely, snapping it into place.
"Um, can I hug you? Would that be okay?" I was scared to
ask this. It was like asking a 30-year-old. But I so wanted
him to be five. It was time to five.
He hesitated, then looked at me. I could see he was
thinking hard. Could he trust me?
Then he nodded. "Yeah," he said, putting down his
submarine.
I reached out, and he came to me and sat on my lap. I
enveloped him with my embrace and held him as closely as I
could. I could fell him put his arms around my neck and hug me
back.
In that moment I knew that he was giving me the gift of
being a mother. And maybe, just maybe, I could give him the
gift of being a child.
By Barbara L. Warner
Have a great week all!!!
wb |
