Not the blood we carry in our body but the love we carry in our hearts.

Twenty-three years ago today my brother came in my room in the morning and said "Mom is at the hospital. Dad is in surgery. They have been there all night. Things don't look great. I have to go to work and grandma is on her way here." I was 13, had been home sick with the chicken pox for about a week and was trying to process everything my brother had just said. He left and went to work and I got up and tried to figure out what to do. I paced, tried to watch tv and waited for the phone to ring or my mom to get home.

Twenty-three years ago today, I lost my dad. I miss him. Not everyday like I use to, but a lot.

For 8 years he was my dad, the most important man in my life. He sat across from me at the dinner table, making sure I ate everything on my plate, asking me about my day, talking to me, my brother and my mom. For 8 years he raised us, loved us and became my dad. During those years he showed me that family is not the blood you carry in your body but the love you carry in your heart. For 8 years he gave me that lesson, a lesson I have spent twenty-three more years living, learning and practicing.

I sit today with my son, born from the love of my heart not the blood of my body wishing he could have met my dad. Wondering what my dad thinks of me....of him.....

Little man has a grandpa that loves him and that he loves. I have a wonderful step-father that demonstrates everyday that lesson my dad gave me when I was young, reinforcing that love is thicker than blood. I am forever grateful for the man that is my father today. But I still wonder what Vern Hewitt, my dad, would say to me...to my son if he could today. The memory of him still makes me smile, laugh and get teary all at once.

I miss you dad and I hope you are proud of me.

Ahh the 80's 

We are inside a tree

Balancing two hearts

   It is Mother's Day today and I am sitting next to a napping little boy that has given me the greatest gift, that of being his mother. He sang me a cute song this morning as he gave me the gift he made me in preschool. We went and had breakfast together and went to church. It has been a perfect day. And yet there is a sadness in my heart. Last night it brought me to tears and today it sits like a lump in my throat.

  Half a world away there is a mother who is not holding her child today because I am. In the adoption world many families honor the Saturday before Mother's Day as BirthMother's Day. This may not make sense to some, but for me I never want to forget the courage and sacrifice of a woman I have never met, that allowed me to be a mother. Little Man is young still, so we don't do much to honor her right now, as he gets older we will do more.

  I wrote this shortly after holding my son for the first time:

Two women- two worlds- one child, two lives forever connected in the beating of that child’s heart. 

A woman living in a land that is beautiful beyond measure, but hard beyond definition. She is brave. She is struggling. She is full of love and full of sadness. The life she carries within her, that grows in her belly is one she knows she can not care for. 

A woman living in a land of opportunity with possibilities beyond measure. She is brave. She is struggling. She is full of love and full of sadness. The child she longs to give life to, is growing within her heart

The child is born and the mother grieves. She knows what she must do, she must ask someone to find him a home. Kissing him she leaves him to another’s care with the hopes that soon, he will have arms to cradle him, hands to wipe away his tears and lips to offer words of love and comfort. 

Half a world a way a woman searches her heart for the child that is growing there. A single glimpse of him, his hands, his eyes and the woman knows her child was born. Born to woman brave enough to carry him and strong enough to let him go, a woman with a love and courage that will connect these lives forever. He is theirs, flesh and blood of one, hopes and dreams of the other. 

So one woman’s journey to her child begins with the heartbreak of a mother and the cries of a baby who does not understand. He is placed in the arms of the nanny and his story begins, a story of heartache and of love surpassing understanding, a love that oddly, starts with letting go.  - Jenn Kramer

I think of his mother often, wonder how she is, what she is doing and wish that she could see how he is doing. I pray that there is a peace in her heart, that some how she knows that our son is doing great. That she knows he came home to a loving family. 

So today while I celebrate the light and joy he brings to my life, I smile toward the east and whisper a silent thank you to a woman I have never seen or met. 

First Day of school

I have been blessed to have a wonderful lady who has watched little man in her home since I had to go back to work. Her daughter is getting ready to start Kindergarten, so today after taking little man to the same house for almost exactly 2 years and 3 months I took him some place new...Today my little man went to his first day of preschool. I am not sure where the time has gone, but he has gotten so big. He just doesn't look three years old in these pics :(

Little Man- isms part 2

In an effort to remember some of the funny things Little Man has been saying lately, I decided to do a quick blog post:

1) The other night at dinner he turned to me and said " So momma did you have a good day at school?" Funny was I had taken a half day at work and been home with him for like 6 hours by the time he asked me that question.

2) A little later that night he wanted me to play baseball in the house. I told him baseball was an outside sport, he bargained and said just 3 pitches momma. I said again that is was an outside game...he puts his bat down and walks over to me and says "So let me get this straight" I couldn't even question the tone I was too busy laughing at what he said.

3) Driving home from daycare this week he was tired from not napping and whining for something, can't remember what, I told him he was not being very nice and so he couldn't have what he wanted right then. His response "I am being bery nice momma, look at my face." When I turn to look at him he gives me this huge grin.

4) He told his babysitter the other day he was going on a "quest" Don't even know where he learned that word

5) Tonight after I let the water out of the bath tub, he laid down in the tub, covered himself with his wash cloth and started to pretend snore. He then said "momma, don't let the bed bugs bite." Not sure I have ever said that to him.

( I know these may not be as funny to other people, but I want to remember some of the things he does and says, so I can share with him when he is older )

To shave or not to shave....

My school has gathered a team to support the St Baldrick's Foundation. Several teachers and students shaved their heads last year and are planning on doing so again this year.

Last year I debated and debated about joining in with the shaving team and after some thought decided that shaving my head might actually not be the best idea with my just over 2 year still bonding with me. We had barely been together a year and I was kind of afraid of scaring him or of him not recognizing me! (that and his therapist advised that it might not be good idea!)

Now this year the time has rolled around again to decide about joining the shaving team or just monetarily sponsoring the team. I still have a question about how little man would react to me shaving my head...anyone have any ideas/suggestions about how my 3 year old my react to his mother having long hair one moment and a shaved head the next? I would take him with me so he could watch the shaving and see me as it happened, but still not sure he is old enough to make the connection, if that makes any sense.

Okay so in being completely honest there is another part to the debate. I have always considered myself pretty low maintenance. I don't wear makeup and until recently hardly ever even got up and put jewelry on in the mornings. (thanks Tarsha!) I have had long hair and short hair and usually am a wash and go kind of girl no matter the length, with short hair I do a little more with it than I do with long hair. So maybe it is a touch of vanity, maybe it is the "societal norms" I am not sure which, but I am struggling with the being shaved and people's reactions to it. Men can do it without much notice, women get noticed with shaved heads. I know it leads to a great conversation starter about kids cancer research, what is considered beautiful,.... all sort of things. And let's be honest I am a single white mom with a Ethiopian son, I am not usually afraid of looking different in a crowd! I also know that my temporary uncomfortableness in being bald is nothing compared to what a cancer patient of any age, but particularly a child goes through.

So I am looking for some advice..Should I shave my head or will it freak my 3 year old out? And also if I do shave any great suggestions for head "gear" while my hair grows back!

Oh and if I do decide to shave my head...I will be fundraising for the cause!

Thanks in advance for the help and support!

Gone too soon...

I have spent the last few days trying to find the right words to express all the thoughts and emotions. And tonight as I stood in the funeral home with a co-worker and looked at the tear-stained faces of past students I realized that there are no right words when a young person dies. As my co-worker said, "The hardest part of teaching...attending the funeral of a former student."

Tonight I hugged those past students and whisper any words of encouragement I could, while dozens of questions still ran through my own mind about the senseless death of a 17 year old girl. Tonight I encouraged a young man, who has just lost his older sister, to cry when he needed to and laugh if he felt like it and even be angry because all of those emotions are correct, especially for a 15 year old. I hugged a mother, that I didn't know, and I (who spend my day talking to kids) had no words for her. I looked in the face of a father who was tired and hurt and simply could shake his hand.

I came home and hugged my little man a bit tighter and laid next to him as he held my hand to fall asleep. I whisper a prayer thanking God for the gift of my son and asking Him to make sure that my time here on Earth would not be longer than my sons'. I asked for comfort to be on the families involved in this accident and the people who are hurting from loss.

Two young lives have been forever changed by a simple decision.

RIP Liz.

Christmas and 2 years home!

I am yet again late in this post...it is New Years Eve and I am finally posting about Christmas and 2 years home!

This year Little Man got what Christmas was all about. The first year we were together we were flying home on Christmas Day and last year he was still pretty overwhelmed by it all. This year, he woke up excited about seeing his gifts. It was so much fun...we opened a couple of gifts and then played for several hours before opening some more gifts. It took us most of the day to get through all the present opening and while that may make it sound like there was lots of gifts there were not, we just spent lots of time enjoying the gifts and time together.

He got a camera and is loving taking pictures of the world around him, now if I can get him to stand still to take the picture instead of running so they are not blurry! He will get it I am sure! In the meantime it is just fun to watch him be so excited about the camera!

Well now on to some pictures from our 2 year familyversay day!