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Saturday, March 31, 2012

Intersecting Moments

When I was at work last week, I happened upon a conversation that two women were having in the kitchen. They were taking about how people are always commenting on how her kids look like her. Cut to a day later and I was at my osteopath's and his twins (natural) were there and they are the living image of him. At JBB's day care, they have a book that they ask family questions each day and then put it up around the centre. The question then other day was 'where does your child come from, what is their heritage?' - in my mind I thought 'this could take awhile'. I wrote, with only a small hesitation, donor: Thailand, Mother: England, Ireland, Father: Ireland. Cut to my house that night and I hear the same word over and over again, mainly because JBB loves to say it but also because it is who I am, Mummy.

My feelings when heard the women in the kitchen at work were mostly a mere observation, as in 'oh, that will never be me'. The feeling when I was talking to my osteopath about how his kids look the image of him was really detached, it was a world away from my reactions of when I first heard or had conversations like these. It was a kind of grieving at first, I felt a loss that I am not sure was an actual loss or the loss of being more 'normal'. I feel good that I can hear, see and participate in these conversations without any feelings of sadness or loss. I feel good that I can let people know his heritage without feeling like I am 'wrong' in some way.

And really why would I? When I go home at night, I have the moments that I treasure. When I pick JBB up from day care, he comes running to me screaming 'Mummy, Mummy, Mummy'. I'm the person he goes to for comfort, we also share jokes and laugh all day. He says 'Mummy' all the time and it doesn't matter how many times he says it, I love it evey time. Every. Single. Time. Implicit in this word is everything that I wanted for so long. It makes me smile, it warms my heart and I am always, always grateful that this little miracle came into our lives.

1 comment:

  1. Yes, It feels so good to be called Mummy or Mama as Isobel says!