- Share This Post
- Pin It
- 0
- 8
-
Sparkle (4)
Unlike most Moms, I cannot recount in detail, or even in generalities, the birth stories of half of my children. And while I can blame my faulty memory on many of the black holes in my life, the integrity of my memory has nothing to do with the void in my brain where a beautiful story should reside.
The stories are not there simply because I never experienced them. I did not conceive, carry in my body, or deliver three of my children. That leaves me with an emptiness that aches. I never got to place my hand on my belly to feel them swimming and kicking and searching for elbow room. I never got to kiss their sweet tiny fingers or inhale their baby essence.
However, to be fair, I must mention that I have, in exchange, something most mothers do not. Meeting my babies for the first time took place when they were no longer infants, but people. People with thoughts and questions and dreams and the confusion of their emotions all swirling around.
And these meeting stories, as opposed to birth stories, are monumentally sacred to me, and just as special as the birth stories of my three biological children.
I thought I would share...
Meeting Bella
"Mom?"
"Hmmm?"
"Will you tell me a story?"
"What kind of a story?"
"About the day I first met you."
"You're not too tired?"
"No, no, no. Please tell it?"
"Well, OK. If you're sure ...
"Many years ago, you lived on the other side of the world in Kazakhstan, in a big building called the Detsky Dom, which means Children's Home. You lived there with many other children, and the caregivers, which the children called Mamas. Now, these children were all different ages, all different colors and shapes and sizes. But there was one thing you all had in common: None of you had a family of your own. Sure, you had food a-plenty, and things to do and lots of children to play with. You had warm clothes and tights and shoes to wear, even if sometimes the shoes were too small or had holes where your toes would peek out to see what was going on."
Giggle.
"But every once in awhile you would have to say goodbye to one of the children, because a new Mama and Papa wanted them to be part of their family. You didn't know why the children were chosen by these Mamas and Papas. Did they choose Anastasia because she had beautiful long blond hair and eyes blue as ice? Did they choose Peter because he was so good at marbles and had that smile that made you smile right back?
You wondered if maybe a Mama and Papa would one day come for you, but you worried because you didn't think your teeth were pretty and you didn't like your short brown hair and the other kids teased you sometimes and said you talked funny.
So you watched the Mamas and Papas come and go, and you said goodbye to many children over the years, but still you waited and you wondered and you dreamed.
Then one day, one of the caregiver Mamas gave you some news. She told you that a Mama was coming to the Detsky Dom. She was coming to see you because she wanted you to be her daughter. At first you didn't believe her. You thought she must have meant Katarina with the beautiful braids. But she assured you, she meant you. Natasha. The Mama would be coming in the morning.
That night was the longest of your life. Your brain had so many questions that it didn't know the answers to, so sleep was impossible. What would your Mama look like? What would she smell like? Would she be soft? How would her hair feel in your fingers? Maybe she was a princess and wore a sparkly crown. Maybe she was .........................
and you fell asleep at long last.
When morning came, you were out of bed while the other children were all still deep asleep. You snuck quietly to the window and sat there, looking out, staring intently at the place where cars come in off the street, so you would be sure to see your new Mama the minute she got there.
Sometime during the morning one of the Caregiver Mamas came in to get you dressed. She slipped over your head a fancy red dress, all ribbons and lace. She smoothed and brushed your hair and made it pretty as could be with a white bow that was big as your head. She gave you
