There are moments during our day when I look at Turo, and I can’t believe he’s my son. While we play, I am struck with a rush of happiness that I get to be his mother. It hits me right in the chest, and I almost can’t breathe. He is here. With us. We are a family.
Then in the next inhalation, I am struck with a jolt of sadness. At the core of this unbelievable joy is deep sorrow. Our delight springs from pain, tragedy and injustice. I think of the women who came before me, and how they will not see Turo’s smiles or hear his giggle. This joy began with them. It exists because they held him, nursed him and comforted him.
Now, my arms are an extension of theirs. My soothing words are their words. We are forever connected by this child. He has been loved by all of us.
So when the sorrow hits as we twirl, giggle or cuddle, I let it mingle with the bliss because it is all part of the story. I think of the women who came before and the joy is that much sweeter.
3 comments:
noiresuThis is beautiful, Sara. I once read a post on Jody Landers' blog about how she kisses her twins 2 times whenever she kisses them~ once for herself and once for their first mother who cannot be there to kiss them. This reminds me of that. We are an extension of them. love that.
I like the thought of letting it mingle. I agree that one feeling cannot exist without the other in adoption. And you are that much more of a beautiful mother for carrying the other mothers with you.
Theresa
Beautifully said.
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