I'm Still Here

I walk past the office a hundred times a day. I could go in and type even if it's just for a few minutes. There must be a story I have to tell floating around in my brain. I'm going to do it.

"Momma!"

Maybe if I ignore the call, they will figure out their issue on their own. It's possible, right? Other people's children do it, why not mine?

"MOMMA!!! He hit me."

"Momma! I neeeeeeeeeeed you."

"Momma! I miss you."

"Momma? What are you doing?"

"Momma. Can I play a game on the computer?"

No. Not now. The time isn't right. I'll get to it. Later.

Later becomes tomorrow. Tomorrow becomes soon. Soon becomes next week. Next week becomes ...

There are stories, beautiful stories, I want to share. They dance like fireflies on a summer evening. I chase them, laughing. I hope to catch one and put it in a jar so I can watch it's glow.

I put the jar on a shelf so you can see it when you enter the room. It is so beautiful. I think about it, the glow lighting a spark in my imagination. Posts are composed in I head.

Yes. This is it. It's time. I head towards the room hoping to open the door without anyone noticing. Hoping for a few minutes in which to share my story with the universe.

But I can't. The chorus starts again. I save it for later, hoping against hope that the story will still be there.

The next time I see the jar a few days later, there is no glow. The firefly has escaped and gone back to that summer evening. Maybe I can catch it again. Maybe. But most likely it is gone forever.

So I wait. Wait and wonder will my fingers ever get the chance to dance over the keyboard. Will my words ever be heard. Will I ever share a story, a piece of my soul.

"Momma! Momma! MOMMA!!!!"

Conspicuous

Our family is conspicuous. We stand out in a crowd. People look, take notice. A Chinese daughter, an Ethiopian son and two white parents make up our wonderful, beautiful family.

It's what happens with trans-racial or in our case multi-racial families. It's not the norm but it is who we are.

I knew that going into the adoption process. I tried to educate and prepare myself for the inevitable questions that may arise from people who are not as open or knowledgeable about the ways families are created. I armed myself with a tool kit of answers and tucked it securely in my back pocket. I thought I would be prepared.

I was surprised at what I found. The questions never came. Instead we were flooded with support. People told us stories of friends and relatives who had adopted from China or other countries. I remember an elderly gentleman approaching us at a restaurant with a picture of his Chinese granddaughter. He smiled and said he could not imagine life with out her.

The support continued when we started the adoption process for Lion. People were excited. They were glad we could expand our family and happy that Bunny would have a sibling.

When the four of us are together, no one says anything. There may be looks but I don't notice them. Instead I am focused on my family and the joy it brings me. No one questioned us about our family. I didn't need to educate anyone. We were a family and no one said anything to the contrary. Until yesterday when I was stopped dead in my tracks by a five year old.

A little girl stopped me after Bunny's ballet class and asked if I was her mother. When I responded in the affirmative, she said "oh. I thought you were the babysitter." I was surprised but said "no I am her mother". And gesturing to Lion, I said "I'm his mother too."

The girl then whispered something to her friend. I could see the wheels spinning in her head. I knew there had to be questions but I did not say they were adopted. I simply gathered my children and headed home, leaving any questions to be addressed by her mother.

The more I thought about it, I was surprised it hadn't happened sooner. Bunny's classmates have seen me with her and Lion all year long. They must have noticed the differences. There are other Chinese children in her class but they are picked up by Chinese mothers and they do not have African American siblings. But no one questions it. I am Bunny's mom.

I am Bunny's mom. I am Lion's mom. It doesn't matter what anyone else says or thinks, I am proud to be their mother.

Of Baristas and Coffee Shops

As we head to the counter I see her start to smile. She gives a little wave and says "Hey Lion. I love your dinosaur shirt."

He laughs. He smiles and bats his eyelashes at her in only the way a two year old can.

She takes my order and says "I could just eat him up, he's so cute."

I smile in return and hug him a little tighter. "Yep. He's the best."

I head to the end of the counter to await my coffee. He doesn't even have to call out my order, he knows it by heart. "Here you go, Renee. Do you need help with the lid?"

"No I've got it. You get used to doing things one handed after a while."

"Enjoy."

After I get my coffee, we get Lion his water. He loves that he can press the lever on the water jug. I have to hold back his enthusiasm just a bit so the water doesn't over flow on to the floor.

Drinks in hand we head to the table. I break up pieces of the pumpkin or zucchini bread for him. He grabs a piece and shove it into his mouth "Nak. Yay nak."

"Yes baby. It is a yummy snack."

I take a drink of my coffee and sigh contentedly. The chaos of the morning slips away with each sip. It doesn't last long because the Lion cub does not have the patience to savor an entire cup.

Lion throws away our trash. We bundle up and get ready to face the grocery store. Before we leave we say good bye to our friends and know that we get to do this again tomorrow.

Ready or Not

"Hey momma I wanna use the potty!"

Yep that's right. The Lion cub has decided it's time to potty train.

I. Am. So. Not. Ready. For. This.

In Dreams

I crawl in between flannel sheets toasted to the right temperature by my electric blanket. I situate the pillow just so. I grab my worn teddy bear (don't judge). I reach a hand out for Frink. We lie together holding hands in our warm bed waiting for sleep to take us.

It's perfect.

No one needs me. I can focus on much needed sleep to restore my body and revive my spirits.

It should be my favorite time of day.

But it is not.

Instead I lie with one ear open waiting for the inevitable cries of the Lion cub. Baby monitor or not, I can hear every cry or movement coming from his room downstairs. Sound travels well in our house and my ears are attuned to his calls.

It might just be a whimper, searching for his nanny blanket. Or it could be an incessant call of "Momma, Momma". I could hear his feet hit the floor as he runs to the door searching for us. I hear him fumble with the door handle, and his fists hitting the door in frustration when he realizes he cannot open it. The worst is the screams, the sounds of night terrors.

Night can be scary for a little one. They are in their most vulnerable state. Memories can surface, the loss of a parent, the loss of a home, the loss of a womb mate, the loss of everything familiar. Those memories would cause a disturbance in any of us. We would seek comfort, the knowledge that we are not alone. We would want to know that we are loved.

Because I don't know what causes the cry, I get out of bed and trudge down the stairs to comfort him. He needs his sleep. It is my job to make sure that he feels safe and secure enough to sleep. There are times when the only comfort I can give is a place in my bed.

There are those who would judge me. You are doing it wrong. He needs to learn to sleep on his own. He should cry it out. I've heard those voices, sometimes in my own head but I know they are wrong. I know what I am doing is right for right now. It won't last forever. He has only been home for eight months, he needs this. I need this.

So there are nights when he wakes multiple times and I only see three, four or five hours of sleep. Sometimes several nights in a row. Sometimes I can't remember when I last slept more than two hours in a row.

But there are nights, more common now, when he will sleep for eight or nine hours in a row. These are the nights which give me hope. These are the nights in which I can dream.

Two

Two years ago today in a land 7900 miles away, a little Lion cub was born.

This Lion cub endured unimaginable heartbreak and loss which would have broken even the strongest person. But he was not broken. He is strong. He is resilient. He is a survivor. We, who are lucky enough to be a part of his life, are touched and made stronger by his spirit, his enthusiasm and his love.



Today at two, he is the epitome of boy. He jumps. He runs. He throws his body around with reckless abandon just because he can. He loves cars and trains. Oh how he loves trains. He worships the ground his sister walks on and often he tries to tackle her to that ground.


Today, I think about how lucky I am to be his mother. He is just so full of life, so full of love. I am truly so blessed to have him place his hand on my face and call me momma. I want to savor this moment forever, to keep him just the way his right now. But I also cannot wait to meet the boy and man he is to become. I cannot wait for him to finally learn more words so I can hear what is on his mind and in his heart. I cannot wait to be present for all of his discoveries, all of his firsts.


Today I also remember. I remember the birthdays I missed. I remember a man, quiet and proud. I remember a man whose heart was broken with loss. I remember a man who loved so deeply. I remember a man who trusted us to raise his son. I love that man with all of my heart. I want thank him and let him know that Lion is a fine and wonderful little boy. I will make sure that he always remembers you.



I also remember a woman and a boy I never met. A woman and a little boy who didn't get the chance to be here today. I carry them with me in my heart and know that they are looking down on Lion today. To the woman, I say thank you. I say I love you. I say hug the little boy you have with you and know that I will do the same to the little boy I have with me. To the little boy, I say I would have loved the chance to know you, to be your mom. I will make sure that Lion always remembers the both of you.

My Lion, your Lion is two today.

A Happier Place

We here on the western shores of Lake Michigan are bracing for a bone rattling blizzard tonight. You know it's going to be bad when they cancel school for tomorrow before noon today. Well at least some schools are going to be closed, so far ours is open.

But I really don't want to think about snow. I'd rather think about warmer weather, sunshine, the beach anything but snow. In order to take myself to a happier place, I am going to post some photos I took at the Domes over the weekend (if you are not from Milwaukee, the Domes are our botanical gardens housed in three separate domes).










I feel warmer and happier already (which is ironic because I always cry when we visit the Domes).