Mommies Here!

This was also posted today at “Two Brides, One Adoption Story”, my new blog at the Adoptive Families Circle (AFC).  I will post there once a week.

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Mom was born in the Caribbean during the Great Depression. She loved the pomp and circumstance of weddings, celebrating the birth of babies, and dancing to Calypso. Mom loved life.

I am, Eva, my mother’s daughter.

But, to the naked eye, we seem very different. First and foremost, Mom could pass for white. I can’t. I am identifiably black. Mom was straight, married to dad for over 25 years and I’m not. About 10 years ago, I fell madly in love with Nadia and, after a seven-year courtship, we eloped to Canada–no pomp and circumstance for me.

Mom was fertile and I’m not. She gave birth to three kids, while, for three years, I struggled with infertility. That hell ended last year with one final, abysmal in vitro cycle.

Mom never told me that growing up could bring so much heartache but maybe she ran out of time. We lost her to breast cancer more than 16 years ago, when I was in my early 20s.

What Mom did tell me was how much she absolutely loved being a mother. She said that giving birth to me and my brothers was the greatest experience of her life, and she prayed that I would be able to experience that one day. Unfortunately, giving birth wasn’t in my stars, but I know that I will love being a mom, just like she did. I’ve dreamt about it for many years and I’m thrilled to have the chance to become a mother through domestic infant adoption.

My wife, Nadia, is South American with a heart made of gold. When we met, it was practically love at first site. She loves kids of all ages and can’t wait to be a mom. She’s my soul mate. Unlike me, she never wanted to give birth. This difference caused some tension between us, but it also made our marriage stronger. Because we are a same-sex couple in a transracial relationship, the adoption professionals have made it clear that, in their vernacular, we are considered an “alternative family.”

But this is not my first experience being in an “alternative family.”

Dad was visibly black and, as I said before, Mom could pass. Given the racial realities back in the 70s,  when I grew up, we were alternative, too. Our neighborhood was overtly hostile to black or “mixed” families. It was tough going on many occasions and there were times when we were called derogatory names or physically threatened.

When something like that did happened, we would always go to Mom. She had a way of making us feel better no matter what was going on. Looking back on it now, I realize that she carried many of our fears and anxieties inside of her and her resolve still carries me through the hard times, even to this day. I hear her  voice sometimes, telling me I can overcome anything. I hope to be that kind of mom to my kids.

Throughout my childhood, one thing I learned from Mom was to never give up on a dream.  Her uncompromising spirit served to anchor us inside the home, no matter what was going on outside. The  lessons that I learned from her  have carried me through many challenges, and I know I will draw on those lessons as we wait to adopt an infant through domestic adoption. We’ve submitted all of our paperwork to the court, put the finishing touches on our adoption profile, and we were recently certified by the court. Nadia and I have crossed over to the “expecting” category and “the wait” has officially begun.

So this post is dedicated to Mom, but also to the little one waiting in the wings, who will one day grace our home. I’ve dreamt of you, “Little Wing,” for so long and Nadia and I can’t wait to meet you, adopt you, and bring you home.