A letter to my Son's Mother

Children born to another woman call me 'Mama.' The magnitude of that tragedy and the depth of that privilege are not lost on me. - Jody Landers

Dear Mama M,

People often stare when they see our family. They stare because our son looks like you and not like us. Sometimes observational comments will be made such as "your daughter has fair skin and your son has darker skin". Sometimes we simply reply, "yes they do", and other times it will lead to a conversation. During these conversations about foster care, adoption and blended families, when people ask what it is like....what is hard....we will respond that there are cumbersome things such as obtaining permission to leave the state overnight but the only truly hard thing has been our grieving for you.

On a September day you endured labor pains to give strangers a most incredible gift. For the nine months prior to that moment your body formed each finger nail and cell as you carried the growing weight of his body. As your own body was still healing from the delivery of a child, you experienced a different type of pain as you were told that your child would not remain with you.

A few days after this, I learned of him from the system that removed him from you, and said yes to bringing him home. While he lived in his first foster home, you and I waited separately for several months to see what would happen next. When he came to live with us, I was nervous to meet you. I had always wanted an open adoption for your sake and for his, but I assumed you would hate me and wouldn't have blamed you if you did. Instead you have always been kind to me, because from your perspective I have been the person caring for your son until you can have him back.

I don't take offense when you look his body over for marks of abuse during a visit or remind me to put sunscreen on him, because I am a Mama too and I would do the same if my child was in the care of a woman I did not know well. 

Our son will always have two Mamas, there is no reversing the fact that you carried him and birthed him into this world. He will always have your eyes, your skin and some of your wonderful internal traits that I don't know you well enough to know are yours. You have given our family and the world an exceptional gift. I want you to know you have a place of honor as a member of our family. I wish you knew that you will only be spoken of with the highest regard in our home.

I grieve for you because life has not been easy up to this point and it is hard for me to fathom how it might become less hard. There are people who blame you and become angry with how you have lived. They fail to appreciate what happens inside your mind and the unjust advantages taken by people who should have been trustworthy. How an illness has taken hold and the ways in which paranoia has wrecked havoc.

My daughter and our son each started their lives in very different circumstances, so did you and I, and none of us chose or deserved the good or the bad of what we encountered when we were born. 

I don't understand why you have to live with schizophrenia, in a similar way that I don't understand why my father had to die prematurely from cancer. You didn't choose it or deserve it. I do believe that you have worth and that your life is purposeful and has produced goodness.

Our first languages are not the same, but one time you looked at me with desperation in your eyes and said, "I cannot lose my son". I looked right at you and said, "My hope is that you never do". And my prayer is that for the rest of your life our son can remain in contact with you.

I don't know what the future holds for any of us, as we await an October court date, but I do know I am grateful to you and will be for as long as I live.

Love,

Mama L

Keeper of the Spark

The responsibility becomes ours. To clothe, to feed, to keep them out of traffic and toxins. Yet the call is beyond keeping them alive. Even as newborns they search our faces to learn what will come from us. As they search for connection, we communicate back....yes, here you will find someone who is on your team.

I try to be mindful of the encouragement I once received to match the light in my child's eyes with that of my own. To fan the flames of awe and wonder that seem to be inherently built into tiny souls and progressively dimmed by the things of this world.

And yet, I still believe my children. I think they're right that mud puddles are worth the mess and that fireflies are worth following.

Another reminder that has been helpful to me is that each negative interaction I have with my child impacts the relationship capital I am building with them over a lifetime. Not just the relationship between us, but how they are learning to relate to anyone. Negative interaction doesn't refer to the necessary yet often unpleasant moments of discipline but rather the instances where hunger, tiredness, anger, stress, fear or general crankiness resulted in my handling of a situation in a way I wish I hadn't. This is not a stronghold for guilt however, because it is always possible to apologize, and I believe that apologizing to our children is one of the most powerful ways to protect their spark.

When our son came home, there was the familiar exhaustion coupled with the sweet simplicity of meeting the basic input and output consumption needs of a baby. The greater challenge in parenting has been recognizing that both of our children belong to God and not to us. This requires that we foster the growth of their persons, not into whom we might choose, but who they already are. To encourage them to let their specific lights shine and to delight in the glow.

I need to be frequently reminded of the verses, Colossians 3:21, "Do not exasperate your children, so that they will not lose heart". And, Psalm 78:4, "We will not hide these truths from our children; we will tell the next generation about the glorious deeds of the Lord, about his power and his mighty wonders."  

As a parent, I have the tasks of teaching, directing and correction, but if I am not mindful of these verses I become an exasperation. I say what not to do, without highlighting the glorious.

Fortunately, both of my children remind me of the much there is to marvel at...."Mama, look at this pinecone....pigeon....

leaf!" Our son who is currently preverbal will point and grunt in awe, urging me to enjoy with him the sound of the train that is going past our house yet again. It is as simple and as hard as taking the time to crouch down beside him, point my finger in line with his and to silently share a smile together.

As pictured above by Sophia with her Nana, I am grateful that many others are partnering with me in being keepers of my children's sparks.