There are another group of ladies for whom this weekend is painful and bittersweet. They are largely forgotten and until you are personally invested with one of these amazing ladies, you don't realize the depth of their emotion. I am referring to the birth moms.
Six years ago I sat in a "crunchy" organic cafe in the art district of a metropolitan city and ate a spinach salad with my Patrick's birth mom. Then she handed me "our" baby, all five pounds of him, and she walked away. That was one of the most profound moments of my life. Despite the mistakes she made in her life leading up to his birth, she managed - with God's help - to keep him safe for nine months. She held him close to her heart then and for the nine days following his birth. She rocked him, she sang to him, and he knew her voice. Then she did something that quite frankly, I don't think I would have the courage to do. She chose a life for him that she could not provide, despite the pain in her own heart. She is a hero.
Less than three months ago another profound moment occurred when we stood in a large room with over 40 friends who had become family in a miraculously short time - and watched 14 orphanage directors walk in with our new children. We held Jeremiah in our arms that day after an 11 month paper pregnancy that left me as weak and spent as any delivery has ever done. When I looked in his eyes, I thought immediately of his birth mom. Short of a miracle, I will never get to share a salad with this one. I will never get to tell her that her baby boy, the one she loved and cherished for five whole months, is happy. That he is healthy and that his medical needs are being addressed. We can only assume that she could not provide what he needed medically and so she let him go. Despite being in a country where letting him go was illegal and had to be done in secret - she risked everything to do what was best for her baby, knowing she would never lay eyes on him again. Would I have that kind of courage? I am going to be honest and say that I am not sure I would. That is true sacrificial love. The kind that makes my heart squeeze with emotion.
These two women birthed my children. My beloved sons. The magnitude of that is crazy huge. Because of these women they have characteristics, mannerisms, and talents that have nothing to do with Stan or me. Yet, we get to nurture those. We get to watch them become all that God has for them. It isn't fair. Not at all. It is hard and I just want to wrap these women up in a hug and tell them how very sorry I am that life is not fair and at the same time how very grateful I am for the precious gifts they left to us. Yet, I can't do that. Circumstances do not allow me to be able to do that with either one - and the further down this path I get, the fear that once accompanied the thought of adoption, is replaced by a longing that can only come from God Himself. A longing that I could sit over a cup of tea with my children's first mommies. That I could hug them tight and tell them all about "our" boys. The knowledge that there is a "village." Not the village that some people want us to buy into, but a sisterhood. A village of mamas who only want what is best for these children that God has given - no matter what the circumstances. Their births were not accidents or surprises to Him. Their lives matter - to each of us, to the world. We only want to get this right and it takes all of us, for these women are part of my children. Their blood, not mine, flows in their veins. And that matters. It matters, for the men they grow into will be because of both of us. And there is a time and a place when our worlds collided - and even if I never get to see them again (or ever), our worlds will forever be united. We will forever both fiercely love the same little boys, who will one day be men. The magnitude of God's great and awesome ability to weave HIStory together into something so gloriously messy and beautiful never ever ceases to amaze me. And the fact that He is allowing me to be just a tiny part of that tapestry is nothing short of a miracle.
Last night Stan and I watch a new documentary called Closure on Netflix. It is the story of a 25 year old adoptee finding her birth mom and dad for the first time. I won't give any of it away to you, because you should watch it. I just sat and cried because recently God has been replacing what used to be a fear in my heart, with a longing. A longing to watch my world collide with the worlds of my sons' birth families. Three worlds that could not be more different. I can picture myself around a tea table in China with the lady who gave birth to Jeremiah. I can see myself at a large backyard barbecue with Patrick's birth family. I can see us crying together and laughing at the amazing, awe inspiring God who did this thing in our families. I long for the day.
So - even though I am a day late posting this - Happy Mother's Day to us all. Women who invest in others, women who have loved and lost, women who have loved in the gap, women with wayward children, single moms, grandmothers, counselors, encouragers -- we all matter. It is cliche to say that they hand that rocks the cradle rules the world - but friends, I believe it does. We can raise warriors, no matter where they started or how rough their beginnings were. And though most of us have no desire to "rule" the world - I have yet to meet a mama who doesn't want to change the world we are leaving for our children.
We have the power, with God's help, to lay down our lives for that very cause.
Happy Mother's Day!!!!
Last night Stan and I watch a new documentary called Closure on Netflix. It is the story of a 25 year old adoptee finding her birth mom and dad for the first time. I won't give any of it away to you, because you should watch it. I just sat and cried because recently God has been replacing what used to be a fear in my heart, with a longing. A longing to watch my world collide with the worlds of my sons' birth families. Three worlds that could not be more different. I can picture myself around a tea table in China with the lady who gave birth to Jeremiah. I can see myself at a large backyard barbecue with Patrick's birth family. I can see us crying together and laughing at the amazing, awe inspiring God who did this thing in our families. I long for the day.
So - even though I am a day late posting this - Happy Mother's Day to us all. Women who invest in others, women who have loved and lost, women who have loved in the gap, women with wayward children, single moms, grandmothers, counselors, encouragers -- we all matter. It is cliche to say that they hand that rocks the cradle rules the world - but friends, I believe it does. We can raise warriors, no matter where they started or how rough their beginnings were. And though most of us have no desire to "rule" the world - I have yet to meet a mama who doesn't want to change the world we are leaving for our children.
We have the power, with God's help, to lay down our lives for that very cause.
Happy Mother's Day!!!!
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