One more broken moment enters our home.
It was a bump on the head like any other. The tears came. I kissed it. Then my child spoke words that broke my heart.
“Mommy Shelly kiss it.”
My response shows nothing of my hurt.
“Yes, Mommy Shelly kissed your booboos. Now, Mommy kisses them.”
My little one has a far off look in his eyes.
“Booboo. Booboo on head. Mommy Shelly kiss it.”
“Honey, look at my eyes. Mommy Shelly loves you, and Mommy loves you. Mommy Shelly used to kiss your booboos. Now Mommy kisses your booboos. When you were a baby you lived with Mommy Shelly, but now you are a big boy and you live with Mommy. Mommy takes care of you now.”
Now it’s his little heart that breaks.
He wails. Sadness dripping from his eyes. I hold him close, rocking him like a baby.
This moment is critical for our connection. I can empathize and comfort and go deeper in my love and care for him. I grab the milk and hold it to his lips like a baby. I feed him like his biological mother should have. I feed him like his first foster family did. I feed him now as his adoptive mother, taking the place in a long line of mothers this little soul has had.
My mothering must be deepest. My connection must be preeminent. I must be viewed by him as his permanent parent.
To do this I must recognize that he has loved and lost others- that this, his final family home, comes at the cost of the first two.
I hold him and our hearts break together.
(Note: I created the image in this post using Pic Monkey’s free photo editing website. Check them out here. This post may contain affiliate links. For more information, read our Disclosure Policy here.)
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