“What doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger.”
I left a mother, I lost a mommy and I gained a mom. No one else will ever have the chance to know all three of these profound women, my birth mother, my first adopted mommy and my second adopted mom, but me.
I was born the same day as the last day I would ever get to be with my birth mom. Plans were made in advance to give me up so a better family would be able to nurture me. I have no idea how hard it is to give up one’s child and she does. She’s stronger than anyone I know, and it kills me to think that I am the reason for her pain. I would love for her to know that I’m happy and safe. I can just imagine her today with her short, but once long, thick hair and her rosy cheeks. I would hope for her hugs to be just as amazing as her cooking and for her smile to be like mine. I know that I wouldn’t be where I am today without her.
I actually have four moms if I count my four-month foster mom who took care of me until I was adopted. That’s where my first adopted mommy, Joan, steps in. I don’t have the most memories of her but I have seen pictures and heard that she was very fashionable, with short brown hair and a hundred-watt smile. I know she was a people person, and she always came to the rescue in colorful attire. She and my dad adopted me even though it was going to take thousands of dollars to repair my cleft lip and palate.
They didn’t care; love is love and they had it. The love Joan had for me is forever; I feel it all the way from heaven. She passed away when I was two years old. I have a distinct memory of me and my brother crying profusely on my dad’s shoulders when the news was given. From then on (maybe from even earlier), I’ve had attachment issues with people that are in and out of my life. I hold on too tight to some while I never get attached to others because I’m too afraid of losing them. I don’t think I’ve ever moved on completely from my mommy’s death – I know my dad hasn’t. She will always be the mommy with those awesome sunglasses.
The day my dad fell in love with her is the day I gained my mom. Dee, my second adopted mom, had a biological daughter, so when our parents got married, I got an older sister. My older brother and I were thrilled, and thus began our “big happy family.” Dee would always smell of a sweet pea fragrance and would have perfectly painted red nails. I remember snickering when my dad would kiss her and laugh with her, but that was before I knew a marriage was in the works. Starting off with a new mom wasn’t easy. My mom recently told me I said, “You’re not even supposed to be here,” to her when I was four years old. I felt like she was trying to replace Joan, and back then I thought my new mom could never live up to my old mom. For the past fifteen years, she has proved me wrong in many ways, but what still stands true is that none of my moms can be replaced. Dee is the one who has gone through everything past babyhood with me. I will always remember how her lips pucker up when she gets mad at me or how she tries so hard to look younger when she already does or when she picks her teeth at the dinner table without a care. She has definitely made her butt print in the Stofko booth, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
My moms can never be replaced, because they each have their own special place in my heart. My birth mom is the one who brought me into this scary yet wonderful world. Joan loved a stranger enough to welcome me with an open heart and open arms – she gave me a foundation. Last but not least, Dee had to deal with me through all my temper tantrums, crushes, young woman changes and growing up to be who I am today.
Looking back, I see that having many mothers is the luckiest, most generous experience I can share. I learned from each of my moms that there’s always more to life and that nothing can replace the love a mother has for her child.
No comments:
Post a Comment