Meaningful Words

This post was written by a friend of mine and fellow adoptive mother. She has an 8 year old daughter from Ethiopia and a 4 (I think) year old daughter from South Korea. I loved her post on Mother's Day. If you are adopting a child older than an infant, and even if you are adopting an infant, this post is a must-read. Though to us adoption is a miracle, is does not occur without loss and hurt. In a perfect world, we would not have our adopted children, but their first moms would.

On Hair and Mother's Day
by Holly Kladder of Life Onward

Yesterday morning I woke up ready to be celebrated by my husband and daughters... fully aware that I share the title of Mother to my daughters with other women, but looking forward to the little cards and gifts I knew were coming and lunch at The Omelette Shoppe (my choice) after church.

When my daughters hugged me and shouted their "Happy Mother's Day" proclamations, I knew I was the most blessed mama around to have these two hooligans to call my own. In that moment I really didn't dwell on their other mothers...after all, it wasn't "Mothers Day" in S. Korea or in Ethiopia, so what did it matter if I alone was celebrated this day?

It did matter; it does matter. My oldest was on edge all morning... she was thrilled to give me a card and gift, but she was dealing with some mixed emotions.

Hair time can be quite the battleground around here; not always, but more frequent than I thought possible. Not because I find it hard to take care of her hair... in fact, I don't think it's hard... it's just time-consuming. Not because she doesn't want her hair done... she DOES, and only by ME. And I'm glad. BUT. It is a battle. Hair time reminds her that her hair is different than the rest of ours. Hair time reminds her of another mom who took care of her hair, who had hair just like hers, just like her sister's. Hair time reminds her that there are things she wishes were different, but has no control over them whatsoever, and that is some vile tasting medicine.

It was a battle yesterday. I accidentally dripped some hair detangling lotion onto her arm... it was a much bigger deal than it should have been. She was angry; not satisfied with my apology, and took her arm and wiped the hair goop across the front of my shirt, in the typical 'I'll show you' fashion she perfected that first year home and still occasionally demonstrates. I was a little more upset than I should have been... for the love of your mother, it's Mother's Day... be nice to your mother. When Bereket feels bad, often times instead of apologizing, she makes up an owie for herself... attempts to lick wounds that aren't there... to hide the real wounds that ARE there. In this case, her skirt was wet... I had got lotion water on her skirt and she needed a napkin cuz it was soaking wet. It was more dry than thrice dried laundry, and in fact nothing had dripped or spilled on it. She carried on and on and on about her wet (dry) skirt.

Later when we talked about what happened she said she had been upset about the lotion on her arm, was upset that she had reacted by wiping it on me, angry that her hair was different and she couldn't flip and shake it like girls with long straight hair, and so she had made up the wet skirt bit.

Fast forward to today. Hair time was a breeze (you just never know) and she wanted to talk about D (her Ethiopian mom). She talked and talked and talked. Then:

Mom, can I call D mama too?
Of course you can, she IS your mama too.
Mom, some day when we go to visit her in Ethiopia... oops (sheepishly)...
What? You're allowed to want to visit some day!
Some day when we go to visit her in Ethiopia, I would like her to braid my hair again. But I would like you to brush it first, and then she can braid it. But I would like us to bring some nice hair ties with us, because she doesn't have any.

Be still my soul.... be still my heart...
Baby girl, some day I would love to come with you to visit D, if you'll let me. I would love to anoint your head with oil and tears, together with your other mama, love to brush out your hair while we all sit together. Love to watch D's fingers work through your hair, parting and braiding, ending with pretty hair ties that you picked out. Let it be so.


Over the past year and a half I have reassured Bereket many times that D will always be her mommy too, have spoken of her as such, encouraged Bereket to speak of her as such.... but still she needed to hear it again, that even on Mother's Day, it's okay to love two mamas.

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