Mother's Day

Mother's Day.  It is the day to celebrate my mom.  She has been married to my dad for over 40 years - and they are still happy about it.  That is a feat that deserves a medal in our culture.  She was always there when my sister and I got home from school, usually baking something in the kitchen.  They took us to church every time the doors were open and in fact, they still attend that same church.  Every time I am in town for a visit, walking into that church just smells like home.  I had a truly idyllic childhood and I am so blessed to have a mom who loves me and my children unconditionally.

This is also a day to celebrate grandmothers.  I have one left and I am so thankful for her influence in my life.  I have so many memories of rainy afternoons playing cards with my grandparents in their beach house.  Eating has always been central to my grandmother's way of thinking - so she always has something she is trying to feed you.  I don't have to think too hard on it to conjure up the taste of her coconut cake, chicken and dumplings, or fresh corn.

I so miss my paternal grandmother, who passed away nine years ago and also her mother, my great-grandmother who followed a year later at 99 years old.  I had them until I was 30 years old and they got to see all but my youngest child, which was such a blessing.  My Mema and I had a very special bond and there is not a day that goes by that I don't miss her sage advice.  We talked on the phone almost every day once I moved away from my home state and even after nine years I can still hear the sound of her voice plainly.

Mother's Day also celebrates my mother in law.  She is the one who gave birth to my husband.  She raised him to be the man he is today - and he is definitely a keeper!  I am so thankful for my relationship with her.  She is fun, energetic, easy to talk to - and a great traveling buddy.  We have had many laughs on "road trips" with the kids over the years and I look forward to many more.

Three years ago, Mother's Day took a new twist in our family.  It became a day to celebrate, if only in my heart,  a very special lady.  One that I only met once and may never meet again.  I think about this lady every time my son reaches another milestone.  His first steps, his first birthday, his first word.  I thought of her last week when he had his tonsils out and they rolled him away to put him to sleep.  Did her heart rip from her chest the day she handed him to me and walked away for the last time, the way mine ripped just a bit when I watched him rolling away on that over sized gurney - his tiny body engulfed in sterile white sheets and swallowed by an over sized hospital gown?  Did she hold back her tears when she kissed his soft downy baby fuzz for the last time that Thursday afternoon, and then did they flow hot when she got out of sight?  Does she think of him every day, the way I think of her?  This baby that she loved first?  The one she chose life for, when she could have made a very different choice.

  I have been pregnant, I know the feeling of life swelling inside of you.  Baby kicks and wiggles, tiny feet jammed under your rib cage as you struggle to find a comfortable sleeping position.  I know how you rub your belly and talk to your baby - did she do that?  I know she did.  I know because I saw the way my son looked at her that afternoon.  He had been mine for only 24 hours, but he had been hers for 8 months in her womb and 9 days in the hospital.  She had held him, talked to him, and rocked him.  The first night we spent together he was content with me.  He snuggled up against me in his "miracle blanket" and I held him close all night long.  He slept peacefully and didn't cry even once.  But, the next day when we met "S" for lunch and I handed him to her, it was different.  My husband noticed it and my eyes fill with tears even now as I remember.  She held him close and started talking to him and his eyes locked with hers in complete recognition.  My heart clenched just a little - she knew him first.  And at that point, she knew him best.

Now, I know him best.  I know what he likes to eat and I know his favorite sleeping position.  I am the one who feels his little hands on my cheeks and his sloppy kisses on my lips.  I know how it feels when his eyes lock with mine and he says, "I wuv you Mom, you my best friend."  I am secure in his complete love for me.  We are totally bonded.

But, I am not the only one who loves him.  I will forever share him with others.  Another woman, another family.  His birth grandparents correspond with me regularly, his birth father as well.  One day, he will want to meet them.  He has two half brothers, one who looks just like him.  That is important, it is real life.  Finding them won't be difficult - they have been totally forthcoming about their whereabouts.  I am ok with that - truly I am, but adoption is messy.  It involves sharing, forgiveness, and a realization that none of my kids belong to me.  God has allowed me to raise them, yes, but they are His and He has a plan for their lives and who they will influence that is so much bigger than I can ever begin to imagine.  My friend Jill wrote a post about that today, so I will leave you with that.  Her precious daughter, who shares a birthday with my 11 year old son, is a joy and a delight to all who know her - as Patrick is and will be.  But, they don't belong to us.  None of them do, but the ones who are adopted add a unique twist to that concept.

Mother's Day - it is multi-faceted when you are an adoptive family.  So on Sunday I will say an extra  special prayer for a very special lady who chose life.  I hope she has found peace and we pray daily that she allows Jesus to enter into her life and work in her heart.

Happy Mother's Day to all women reading - whether you have given birth, adopted a child, are struggling with infertility, or are still single - you are influencing the lives of others in a way that only a woman can do.  This day is to celebrate YOU.