grace.
I'm not certain of the exact moment that I became Beckett's mom. The moment that I saw his photo? The first time I held him? Or was it way back when the idea of him first sprang to mind. On some level, I think that was it. To a certain degree, I became someone's mom the minute that I decided to do so... the minute that we began our adoption journey. I simply did not know who that someone was. Though the initial relationship may have been purely existential, there was no question that I was his mother after I had seen his tiny face. While we waited to bring him home I constantly fretted over his medical condition. I worried that something would go wrong, that he would be sick, and that I wouldn't be there to comfort him. On really dark days I contemplated the unthinkable and wondered if I could cope if something truly tragic occurred. The list of what ifs sometimes became overwhelming. I wondered if I would find the strength to make the hard choices. Sometimes I selfishly wondered if I would ever really be anyone's mom. In those moments it was easy to wish away the stress... to dream that some of our choices had been decided for us.
And then I think of my dear friend that made the choice to carry her terminally ill daughter to term simply because she was her mother, and mothers don’t give up on their kids. Her daughter deserved to be born. She deserved to be held, and kissed, and to feel love, and despite the unfathomably difficult choice to do so, that is exactly what her mother was able to give. I think of my friend’s strength, and faith, and grace, and I am reminded that the universe has a way of placing the right children with the right parents for the right reasons. My friend was, is, and always will be the the absolute perfect mother for her absolutely perfect daughter.
Today my heart is heavy as I learned that another friend was faced with tragic news. Due to some rather profound medical complications her daughter will not be coming home from Vietnam. Instead, my friend has made the decision to let her stay with the only family she has ever known, in a caring environment, surrounded by the love of her caregivers. She will not be coming to the US, rather her US family will help to provide for her care from a far. Though the relationship will not be the one that my friend was dreaming of, she was clearly united with right child at the right time, and she will take care of her daughter. Even if the title never becomes ‘official’. Even if the current grief is palpable. Even if the entire world seems to be crumbling. The wee little one will be looked after, because that is what moms do.
Lately I seem to know quite a few people who have been grieving children. None of their stories are exactly the same, but all of these women, every last one of them, managed to rise above the sorrow. They found the strength to embrace the choices before them, and acted with a mother’s grace.
A mother's grace.
Official titles be damned.
And then I think of my dear friend that made the choice to carry her terminally ill daughter to term simply because she was her mother, and mothers don’t give up on their kids. Her daughter deserved to be born. She deserved to be held, and kissed, and to feel love, and despite the unfathomably difficult choice to do so, that is exactly what her mother was able to give. I think of my friend’s strength, and faith, and grace, and I am reminded that the universe has a way of placing the right children with the right parents for the right reasons. My friend was, is, and always will be the the absolute perfect mother for her absolutely perfect daughter.
Today my heart is heavy as I learned that another friend was faced with tragic news. Due to some rather profound medical complications her daughter will not be coming home from Vietnam. Instead, my friend has made the decision to let her stay with the only family she has ever known, in a caring environment, surrounded by the love of her caregivers. She will not be coming to the US, rather her US family will help to provide for her care from a far. Though the relationship will not be the one that my friend was dreaming of, she was clearly united with right child at the right time, and she will take care of her daughter. Even if the title never becomes ‘official’. Even if the current grief is palpable. Even if the entire world seems to be crumbling. The wee little one will be looked after, because that is what moms do.
Lately I seem to know quite a few people who have been grieving children. None of their stories are exactly the same, but all of these women, every last one of them, managed to rise above the sorrow. They found the strength to embrace the choices before them, and acted with a mother’s grace.
A mother's grace.
Official titles be damned.
