Tomorrow is Mother's Day. I have no idea how to feel about it.
Nick won't be the first little boy to call me mom. Almost one year ago, Mr. T arrived at our house with trash bags full of belongings. He started exploring the house with Austin as I finished paperwork with his caseworker. She left, we went out for pizza, he took a bath, and went to bed upstairs without a problem. There probably should have been a problem. He probably should have cried or tantrumed, but sadly bouncing from house to house was his normal. 4 removals in less than year. He called me mom the first night. I didn't correct him; I simply told him he could call me what he wanted. It didn't mean much to me the first night because in front of me was a confused 4-year-old boy trying to keep all the moms straight. "My real mom, my other foster mom, my new foster mom, mom." To be honest, I didn't know which mom he was talking about half of the time. T lived with us for 4 months and hearing him call me mom started to mean something quickly. The crying and tantruming eventually came. I still can't put into words what it's like try to comfort a child who calls you mom while out-of-contorl upset about missing his biological parents. Hearing Mr. T bumble down the stairs scared in the middle of night asking, "Mom can I sleep on your floor?" meant something. It wasn't just the hard moments that meant something. Hearing mom being called out from behind curtains while playing hide-and-go-seek started to mean something. Watching him conquer a huge water slide for the first time and screaming out "Mom WATCH." It all meant something. Being Mr. T's mom, even for a short time, was such a privilege. Mr. T, wherever you are in the world tonight, I hope you know how much I love you. I miss so many things about being your mom. Like hearing you say, "Me three, that's un-re-propriate (inappropriate), go to bed Fred, super-duper-whoopie, HULK SMASH, I wuv you mom, and so much more. Maybe more importantly than you knowing I loved you, I want you to know how much your biological mom loved you. I see her posts on Facebook, confused why she can't see you anymore. She fought so hard for you. She thanked us. She was happy whenever you were happy. She never missed a visit. That all matters. She couldn't take care of you the way a little 5-year-old needs to be taken care of, but that is no measure of her love for you. May is Foster Care Awareness Month. Rally around the foster parents you know. Pray for them, donate to them, and maybe, someday join them by becoming one of them. I would never, ever change the way I became a mom first and am confident our fostering journey is not over. Missing Mr. T isn't the only reason I'm not sure how to feel about Mother's Day. I've thought so much about the day a little girl, who is just one-years-old and knows nothing of it yet, will have to try to understand why she doesn't have a mom here on Earth. Sweet Analeigh, I still don't understand it. I want you know your mom. I will always share my memories. I want your grandma to know she is an incredible mom and losing a child doesn't strip her of her title. She is still grandma and yet she is able to love you like your mom would. That is strength and courage like I've never known. Nicholas, I do know that this Mother's Day, I am beyond thankful for you and blessed by you. You came at what seemed the exact wrong time when I found out I was expecting you, but you were everything I needed. I love you, I am learning how to be a good mom to you and I'm thankful for all the support I've received along the way. You're one lucky dude, your grandma, my mom, and your other grandma, my mother-in-law, swoon over you and have been the best examples of loyal, confident, godly mothers. Joy and grief. Grief and joy. "To those who gave birth this year to their first child—we celebrate with you To those who lost a child this year – we mourn with you To those who are in the trenches with little ones every day and wear the badge of food stains – we appreciate you To those who experienced loss through miscarriage, failed adoptions, or running away—we mourn with you To those who walk the hard path of infertility, fraught with pokes, prods, tears, and disappointment – we walk with you. Forgive us when we say foolish things. We don’t mean to make this harder than it is. To those who are foster moms, mentor moms, and spiritual moms – we need you To those who have warm and close relationships with your children – we celebrate with you To those who have disappointment, heart ache, and distance with your children – we sit with you To those who lost their mothers this year – we grieve with you To those who experienced abuse at the hands of your own mother – we acknowledge your experience To those who lived through driving tests, medical tests, and the overall testing of motherhood – we are better for having you in our midst To those who are single and long to be married and mothering your own children – we mourn that life has not turned out the way you longed for it to be To those who step-parent – we walk with you on these complex paths To those who envisioned lavishing love on grandchildren -yet that dream is not to be, we grieve with you To those who will have emptier nests in the upcoming year – we grieve and rejoice with you To those who placed children up for adoption — we commend you for your selflessness and remember how you hold that child in your heart And to those who are pregnant with new life, both expected and surprising –we anticipate with you This Mother’s Day, we walk with you. Mothering is not for the faint of heart and we have real warriors in our midst. We remember you."
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Hi! I'm Haley. Archives
May 2019
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