His Mother

Today, for the first time since we have been home, I got this question:

 "Will you ever know about his REAL mother?"

And time stood still for a moment.

I'm not his real mom? I didn't realize. Every day since we first met I have been Mama.

His first words every morning are, "Mama? Baba? Downstairs?"

He thinks "breakfast" means french toast since that was what I made for him almost every morning  for the first several weeks home. (It was all he would eat!) We do an Abbott and Costello routine-

Me: Isaac what would you like for breakfast?

Isaac: Breakfast.

Me: Do you want cereal or yogurt and a banana?

Isaac: I want breakfast.

Me: This is breakfast. What do you want to eat?

Isaac: This a-one. Points to syrup

Mick pats him down every morning to make sure he isn't sneaking any of his toys into preschool. Once in a while he misses one and Isaac triumphantly shows me his toy and where he  had hidden it when I pick him up from school. One of these days he'll figure out that his hiding places don't work a second time when he tells about them!

I am the one who gets to see his uncontainable delight when he gets his very first bike. What joy!

I am the one who carries his 44 pound body everywhere because he lifts his arms to me and says,"Bao-bao"

I put him in his pj's at bedtime. He says, "Mama, help a-you?" which means "Will you put these on me?"

We settle down to read a story at bedtime and I know he will choose either Five Little Monkeys or Splish, Splash, Splat a story about a cat who learns to swim.

When he gains weight some of it goes into his cheeks. He gets that from me.

He doesn't like pastries. He did not get that from me.

I am the only Mama he has ever known. But another woman gave birth to him. We will probably never know her, but she must have been delightful. And sweet and beautiful. From what I know of his history she must have agonized over the decision she had to make and did what she could to offer him a better life. She must have loved him very much, and being a mother now myself, I know she still does. I wish I could tell her how well he is doing; how much he loves people and loves to laugh. I want to tell her how smart and proud to learn he is. She is a very real and important part of him. I want him to cherish her.  But I am his real mother.