I get to be her mom.
It’s been 10 months. (Sidebar-I’ll pay you $1000 to tranquilize the minion that runs the second hand around the clock so fast-THIS IS NOT THE AMAZING RACE for crying out loud). She’s a bit of a diva, our sturdy little dark haired beauty. Last Mother’s Day,we were 7 weeks from her due date and my ping pong ball mind was bouncing on each side of the table between cautious optimism and this-might-really-freaking-happen. Those months before her birth were a nervous, terrifying, reflective time. Her birthmom and I had gotten to a comfortable rhythm of communication. I look back now and see how important that time would be for Molly. It’s like her birthmom and I were laying down brick, in the form of trust. Slowly, one by one, we were giving our girl a pathway to understand how her life would be shaped by both of us. We were starting to build a motherhood for the baby in her belly. The baby who we both knew would wake up a year later on Mother’s Day and reach her chunky hands up. For me.
I’m not exactly sure what it’s like to be Molly’s adoptive mom. I’m her mama. I’ve been her mama since she took her first breath. Her birthmom talked to Molly while she was pregnant-telling her often that she had chosen a rockstar mom and dad for her. Preach. Now it’s Mother’s Day and 7 weeks from Molly’s first birthday (FIND THE MINION) and all I know is- I get to be the one. To sing spot-on Beyonce to her at night. To wipe her nose. To say exactly the right thing that will make her smile and show her two new teeth. To hold her so snug we’re both sweaty. To stop her tears when no one else can. To tell her how critical it will be to choose wisely between bangs or no bangs (go boldly, young jedi.). I get to be the one. I’m so very lucky.
Moms are it ya’ll. I come from a line of strong ones. And I see moms sweatin’ it out and nailin’ it every dang day. In my kid’s classroom, on the early morning flights, in the carpool line, at they gym and Lord knows, in the Target parking lot. Single moms. Dads who are moms. Moms who desperately wait each month to see two lines instead of one. Moms who never got to hold their babies. Moms who work full time, part time, all the time, in and out of the house. Some who have stared blank and raw into the pit of grief that is losing a child. Mother’s Day is hard for a lot of women, not least among them are those moms who have chosen other moms for their babies.
Here’s the happy. Our hearts were created to have the capacity to love wide.
Loving wide gives us freedom. To love instead of judge. To see the grief. To recognize when momin’ gets hard and ring their doorbell with a pizza. To embrace, without comparison, our authentic life and pack the dang processed goldfish. To honor more than one person on Mother’s Day, and Father’s Day and any other holiday that we might feel cornered into singularly celebrating one thing and one thing only.
I am certain Molly’s birthmom will have some raw moments on Mother’s Day. She loves Molly big. I see her in Molly’s face and some of her mannerisms. Those things don’t make me sad. I’m so grateful to be able to give Molly the gift of knowing why she sneezes in multiples or why she loves music. I won’t look away from the ways she is like her birthmom, they are important for Molly. There are so many things I’ll give her too. Like the love of buttercream. And a healthy knowledge of lyrics (and choreography) of every song from Grease. If she’s lucky she’ll get my envious 80’s-bohemian-preppy chic fashion sense. And if I’m lucky she’ll get from me a love for Jesus and Dolly Parton. I hope she gets from me a heart that loves big. I hope she loves musicals. I hope she serves others. I hope she hears from my mouth and sees from my ways these things-Be You. Be Kind. Follow Jesus.
I was chosen to be the one. Motherhood was a gift given to me by a woman who had the capacity to love wide. It’s my honor to pass that kind of love down to a dark eyed baby girl who will call me mama.
I get to be the one.
And above all these, put on love, which binds everything together in perfect harmony. Colossians 3:14