Are You His Real Mom?

Day 30 Write 31 Days Stuff I Wish You’d Quit Saying: Are you His Real Mom?

On October 31, tomorrow at 1:00 we will finalize the adoption of our long-term foster placement, “Charlie.”

Every foster to adopt story begins with a horrific tragedy.

And while tomorrow will be a joyous occasion for our family, it is markedly a day of loss.

A day that legally changes names, but not bloodlines, not the generations.  One of my least favorite questions is, “are you his real mom?”

How would you like me to answer that? Today, legally I am his foster mom, a government-appointed babysitter, or so I’ve been told.  Tomorrow I am legally his mom. But the word “real?”

I am real; flesh and blood, heart beating, brain clicking… real.

I have four biological children.

They are real; flesh and blood, heart beating, brain clicking… real.

I have one adopted son, Sam.

He is real; flesh and blood, heart beating, brain clicking… real.

Today I have two foster children.

They are real; flesh and blood, heart beating, brain clicking… real.

Tomorrow one of those children will become our adopted son…

The legalities won’t change the realness.

And I know what you mean when you ask, I know you mean no harm. However, of all the hurts, of all the unknowns, the word “real” undermines the struggle. I have heard infertile moms talk about it, as if their wait as if their struggles weren’t real – as if their love is less.  We waited for Sam for nine months, we had a placement acceptance the month before he was placed with us that didn’t work out, the turmoil was real. The heartache.

A few weeks later when I was handed a warm blue be was real

This bundle of life, his black hair was as soft and real as anything I had ever felt. The waves of joy, real… the what if’s – what if we hadn’t waited – what if we had never met this boy – what if…

Those emotions were real.

The love I felt then, the love we feel now, and the hope we have for that little bundle, now four-year-old boy… so real. 

I remember every thing about the first night I was called to a hospital room to meet a real baby boy in need. I remember how afraid I was. I remember the horror the first time I heard, “He is being reunited with a real family member.” I remember grieving the unknown, craving restoration… wishing things were different.

Everything about that time was so real.

Real.

We won’t post how long Charlie has been in foster care, the real time is nothing in comparison to the eternal time. Tomorrow you will see real pictures of him for the first time.  And I know it’s is exciting, we are excited too.  We are grateful for real hearts who prayed real prayers for this real boy to experience renewal –and a healthy future.

Please be mindful, we have worked hard to maintain a good relationship with Charlie’s “real” family.

[clickToTweet tweet=”One of my least favorite questions is, “are you his real mom?” quote=”One of my least favorite questions is, “are you his real mom?”]

We are real friends.

All in love with a real boy.

We can’t wait to introduce to our son tomorrow.

A real boy, with real parents, real grandparents and a real and eternal God who love him.  Real humans; flesh and blood, heart beating, brain clicking… real.

May your floors be sticky and your calling be… real.  Love, Jami

To Timothy, my real child in the faith: Grace, mercy, and peace from God the Father and Christ Jesus our Lord. 1 Timothy 1:2

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