These people are my Momma (my adoptive mother) and my Mamma (my birth mother).
I've known all my life that I was adopted at birth. It's never been a secret. The issue of me being adopted, "given up", and "someone else's child" was a wide open affair. And not always a pleasant one. Figuring out who I was and who I am has been a life long struggle. For both me and my Momma . The hole in my spirit is something I've always known. It hurts. Many angry days and nights passed between us. All reconciled after years of disagreements, we ventured on to have a great mother-child relationship that I wouldn't trade for anything.
As much as she loved me, I ached as much to know my birth mother. I have always called her Mamma. (Now, it's important to note the difference...adoptive mom = Momma, Helen; birth mom = Mamma, Debra).
My little heart was broken in bits over Mamma. Worried about her, Iwondered if she was all right. I prayed she was warm and had food and was loved. I prayed even harder for God to bring us together. And wouldn't you know it, when I least expected it, He did just that! God brought us together, me and Mamma. Last year, on her birthday no less. It's been an amazing journey. Hearing her voice, the first thing she said to me on the phone was "I love you Baby Girl", and I hit my knees. Truly, I couldn't stand up. Good thing I didn't have to use the bathroom or it would have hit the floor too! I waited my entire life to hear that.
Can you really imagine wanting the one thing you seemed destined to never find and then finding it? Try hard. Really hard. Because that is exactly what happened to me. I found my Mamma.
No more "little girl lost". I am found. A broken heart is whole. I know why I like peanut butter. It makes sense to me, this open and wild spirit that I have. I get it from Mamma.
I've been dually blessed and for no good reason. I was adopted by the most loving and kind hearted parents who literally gave me the shirt off their backs. And a pony too! They didn't always understand me, but loved me for me. Blind love. Oh what a joy to see that gift working in my life before it's too late! And I have been reunited with the woman who carried me in her tummy for 9 months, gave birth to me and gave me life. She loves me! She has always loved me and I have always loved her. There has never, not one time ever, been an angry feeling toward Mamma. If it wasn't for her, I'd have never known my parents. I only ever wanted to tell her how much I love her and to thank her for my life. God saw fit for me to be able to do just that.
As most of you know, Sunday coming up is Mother's Day in America. Mother's Day has been such a confusing holiday for me. I celebrate Momma because she loved me and raised me. But I mourned for Mamma because I wanted to celebrate her too.
When Mamma and I were reunited last year, it was only natural to think of all the future holidays I would get to spend and celebrate with BOTH my mothers! Who could have predicted that just one month after meeting my birth mother, that Momma, my adoptive mother, would enter the hospital with an unknown illness and then pass away? Not me. But that's what happened. And now I am again a girl with a broken heart for a lost mother.
Is it irony that I mourned for my birth mother all my life and loved Momma who was with me and now I mourn for Momma who is gone and now get to celebrate life with Mamma? I'm pretty sure that qualifies for irony.
This Mother's Day, I am honored to celebrate Mamma. Debra. The woman who gave me life. A mother that I've longed to know and have always loved. By the grace of God I have her in my life now. I live in Scotland and can't be with her on Sunday, but the need to shower her with gifts on Mother's Day is overwhelming. So I ordered her a dozen long stemmed pink roses for this special day to be delivered right to her.
And this Mother's Day, I am honored to celebrate Momma. Helen. The woman who shaped my life and loved me so much it hurts me to think of it. She has passed from this world, but not from my heart. It doesn't matter where I live, she is with me always. The need to recognize her contribution to my life and the shaping of my spirit is overwhelming. So I ordered her a dozen long stemmed white roses for her grave site for this special day.
And that's how ordering flowers for Mother's Day can reduce a grown woman to tears. Those hot, fast tears that run down your cheeks and fall off your chin before you can catch them.
This is for my Mothers. From one lucky girl who, for a time, got to have both of them in her life. I love you both so, so much. Thank you Momma and Mamma, for this life. What a ride.
Me and my Momma Tyler TX May 2008, the last picture taken of us together
Me and my Mamma, Charleston SC October 2008, the first picture taken of us together
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