It was nearly four years ago that my daughter was born to me, without pain or contractions, on the side of a road.
I think of you often. You are the woman who gave my daughter life; my first child who called me “mommy.”
You haven’t yet been matched to us. We haven’t yet learned your story or locked eyes with you for the first time. Yet, you exist.
My son Kyle is one of the bravest people I know. He was adopted from China one year ago at the age of three. In one afternoon, his life was completely turned upside down and sideways.
But if this election has taught me anything, it's that we need to lean on each other—now more than ever.
We already have two beautiful, little toe-headed boys of our own and didn’t feel any need to rock the we’ve-finally-got-our-heads-above-water boat
“A child born to another woman calls me Mommy. The magnitude of that tragedy and the depth of that privilege is not lost on me.”
Your life will never be the same. Hallelujah. Your life will never be the same.
My daughter was nine years old the first time I laid eyes on her.
It’s National Adoption Awareness Month, and it’s something close to our hearts at Mamalode.
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