There is a story my grandma likes to tell about the day I was born. I've heard her tell it at least a thousand times…
My grandmother took one look at me when I was born, turned to my paw paw, and with eyes full of tears said “She has ten fingers, and ten toes, on each hand!” My grandfather looked at her and said “I hope not!”
The point is, she was thankful, and trying to communicate that I was healthy, and all my parts were “where they should be”. And who would blame her. Everyone prays that their child will be born healthy. I mean, who in their right mind would pray for their child to be born otherwise?
With Thanksgiving, and time spent with my grandma coming up, I know I'm going to hear this story, at least a time or two.
Thanksgiving is a time to reflect. I've been thinking about my blessings.. that leads me to thinking about my precious boys… and that got me thinking about the day they were born… and their bio mama…. Welcome to my brain. It's a scary place.
I'm sure the day my precious boys biological mother gave birth to them, in a Chinese Maonan village, she was a little overwhelmed. She had two precious boys looking up at her with cleft lips and palates, and no real way to feed or care for them. It makes me sad to think she looked at her boys, and unlike my grandmother, she could not fumble her words in thanksgiving that her children were healthy… and “all their parts were where they should be”. She had to think about what to do so they could get the care they need. She had to think of giving them up. I can't imagine how hard that must have been. She is a stronger woman then I. I wish she could see it has all turned out OK. No, not OK. Better then OK.
Being a mama to Zach and Coop has changed me, and what my eyes see as “all the parts being in the right place.”
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