Jami Remembers the Other Mothers

I usually think about posting this around Mothers' Day and this year I just didn't. If I've expressed the same thoughts in this blog before, I apologize, but it's worth doing again. Mothers' Day sometimes gets a little too dramatic for me. I dislike the people who celebrate "all women" on Mothers' Day. I'm all for celebrating being a woman, but that doesn't make you a mom. I don't think we should be thanking every female who inspired us or was ever nice to us. While I like getting gifts, it's not just about what did you buy - this year, I asked for only a garden - more work for me, but more on that in another post, someday. I also agree with EDW's post here. One thing that always is on my mind on Mothers' Day are the two women who mothered my son before he came home. They don't celebrate Mothers' Day in Guatemala, at least, if they do not the way we do here. Some folk seem to think that adoptive mothers fear or resent birth mothers, and let me tell you, nothing could be further from the truth. I know tons of adoptive parents and we all are in awe of the women who broke their own hearts for the children they carried. Yes, there are birth moms who lost custody because they weren't great, but even most of them loved their children, even if they didn't know how to care for them. A woman I will most likely never lay eyes on grew Eddie in her womb. She felt him move, and did what she could to have a healthy child. She birthed him , saw him, named him. I don't know if she got to hold him. But she loved him enough to know that her life was not what she wanted for him, and she handed him over, to be given to strangers in a country she's never been to, knowing he grow up in a culture different from her own, speaking a different language and probably never seeing her again. What unbelievable, sacrificial love and courage. We pray for her, and we thank God for her. She is more of a mother than many women I've heard of, because she did the very best thing she could for her child, no matter the pain it caused her. And that, my friends, is the heart of mothering. Eddie's next mother is the one who received him from the hospital. She had the midnight, and 2 am and 4 am feedings. She saw his first smile. Rocked him to sleep, fed him, nurtured him, took him to his doctor's appointments, watched him grow. We credit her for his being so pleasant when we first met him, so healthy and strong and fearless. She loved him, too, which we got to see in the heart-wrenching moments when she hugged him and kissed him goodbye. I wanted to promise her over and over that we already loved him and would take good care of him, but all I could say was "Thank you" and "God bless you" over and over. So now I'm the mother. I'm the Mommy. But I never forget that I'm Mommy because these women gave their love and time and hearts to my son.