“A child born to another woman calls me mommy. The magnitude of that tragedy and the depth of that privilege are not lost on me.” ~Jody Landers
Whenever Scout smiles his dark, soulful eyes dance, his entire face lights up, and I melt into a thousand pieces. He radiates joy. Since the day we met I have learned that despite the infinite capacity of my heart, it somehow still overflows with more love than I can contain. Sometimes after he’s been sleeping for a couple of hours I hear his soft cry and find him sitting up in bed rubbing his eyes as if he is trying to make sense of things. I crawl in next to him and he leans forward, wraps his sweet arms around my neck and gently hugs me before falling back asleep. It’s like he just needs to make sure I’m still here. I kiss his forehead, tell him I will always be here, and I desperately want this to be enough to quiet the longing in his bones I fear he will someday feel when he’s old enough to understand.
When I see his sweet smile, hear his contagious laughter, and comfort him in my arms, I never forget that he was born to another woman. Scout and his birth mother are forever bound by a loss they must endure so that I could become his mom. My heart weeps each time I face this reality. Regardless of how much he fills my soul, a quiet whisper of sadness still finds space in the cracks because I know I can’t protect either of them from the heartache of wondering: wondering why, wondering if it was the right decision, wondering about each other.
I carry the weight of parenting another woman’s child with me every day and with it comes a depth of responsibility I didn’t anticipate. She chose me. She trusted me with her heartbeat, blindly believing I will keep it going. I remind myself daily I can’t let her down. Each kiss, each gentle embrace, is as much for her as it is for him. I will spend my life doing what I can to make sure Scout always feels unconditionally loved. I am hopeful he will come to believe he is exactly where he is supposed to be, and that he will know it’s okay to love more than two parents; that it's possible to love his birth mother for the gift of life and for her selflessness while simultaneously
loving us for being his haven.
loving us for being his haven.
Being a mother has changed me in all the ways I expected and in ways I couldn’t have imagined. The first time I held Scout in my arms he broke me wide open. Today I feel everything. Whatever armor I used to wear has been peeled back and my tears fall freely because I understand we are all someone’s child. Adopting Scout has made me forever vulnerable, but it has also made me forever grounded because I now walk with my feet buried in the soil, held down by the weight of mothering for two women. And beneath my feet are his roots unfolding gently, preparing to elevate Scout so he can rise from the ashes.
