a letter to Bboy.

Dear Auggie,

My sweet boy, while I can remember life before you, it’s near impossible to imagine it without you now. On our second Mother’s Day, and our first since you’ve been born, I want to jot down a few things for you.

Your dad and I were talking today about how lucky we feel that you’re such a low-key baby. You have the sweetest temperament, with a silly streak that brings us so much joy. Your laughter is infectious, and we are having so much fun finding new ways to hear it. You are fascinated by your dog, and he very patiently obliges your not-so-gentle love. Sometimes you make faces that I’ve often made. Other times I take a photo of you and see so much of your dad. And while it’s so fun to see what parts of ourselves we’ve passed on to you, I love that you are your own person. I like getting to know you.

I have often heard parents talking about giving their kids what they didn’t have, but I don’t think I truly understood what a gift it is to be able to do that until I became your mom. One of the unique ways that I have been able to is perhaps the simplest, and also the most profound—being with you these past eight months. I’m so grateful to have been adopted, but I have also found so much healing in getting to share in your earliest memories and milestones. I love that you know my face and my voice, and that you’re even starting to respond to my name now. You’ll never have to wonder who I am or how much you’re wanted, because I’m here with you and will tell, or sing it to you, every day.

You are my Auggie, my only Auggie.

You make me happy on all the days.

I hope you know, dear, how much I love you;

It’s more than words can say.

I loveyou loveyou loveyou,

Mama

light bulb.

I have encountered many surprising things in these first weeks of being a mom, but the most surprising things are not actually new. They are the familiar truths that I have seen in a new light—truths that I had previously acknowledged but struggled to take to heart. Loving our boy has given me a window into a deeper understanding of these truths: to know and truly believe them; to also accept them for myself as I whisper them over and over again to my son.

I told my therapist that becoming a parent has made them somehow tangible, as if I finally found the light bulb chain that’s been swinging above me, and I’ve finally turned on the light. Maybe you’ve experienced the same light bulb moment, or maybe you are still grasping around for the chain. Wherever you are at, I hope you find encouragement and hope in these things as I have recently:

It’s not a burden to care for you, even when you are having a hard time.

You can feel bad, and that does not make you bad. Feelings are something you have, not who you are. Feelings are finite: this too shall pass.

There’s nothing you could do to make me love you any less and nothing you need to do to make me love you any more. You are loved because you are worthy of love.

seeds for thought

Legacy, what is a legacy?

It's planting seeds in a garden you never get to see.  

– Lin-Manuel Miranda, “The World Was Wide Enough”, Hamilton: An American Musical

Today is my first Motherʼs Day as a mother. Iʼve thought a lot about my own birth story and my birth motherʼs pregnancy with me over the past twenty-four and half weeks. That is, Iʼve imagined what it might have been like. 

The beginning of my pregnancy was hard. I felt nauseated daily, I had little appetite, I lost weight over the first three months, and I was always exhausted. But I was still excited about our baby and felt proud to know that these were signs of my body doing an important job. 

The symptoms also made me wonder about my birth mother’s pregnancy with me. Did she feel as sick as I did? As tired as I did?

Iʼm acutely aware of the stark differences in our circumstances. I have a few sentences on ghost-thin paper about my mother’s pregnancy and my birth. I don’t know what symptoms she experienced, but I do know she was working in the city to send money to her family in a more rural area. I know she fell in love with my biological father, a “coffee shop DJ,” but “it was a one-sided love.” I know that she bound her stomach so that she could continue working. I know that she made the (literally) life-changing decisions to give me life and a chance at a life beyond what she would ever be able to provide.

I am overwhelmed with gratitude at the sacrifices she made. Her choices made way for the life I have now. As sick as I felt in those early days, I was working from home. I had sick days I could use. I had a husband who loved and took excellent care of me. 

As I continue to grow our baby, now starting to feel their kicks and somersaults, I am amazed at just how much I already love them. I like to think that my mother felt the same way. She saw the potential, the value of my life. Without her knowing anything about who I was or would become—about my personality, gifts, or skills—I was enough. Enough for her to endure the months of unpleasant symptoms. Enough for her to let her body be stretched and altered. Enough for her to go through additional discomfort to hide those changes so that she could continue to do what was expected of her.

My birth mother planted a seed that my adopted mom (and dad) were able to water. She gave me life and a family and opportunity. I hope, somehow, she knows that it was worth it. 

My life is her legacy.  And that legacy continues on through the life of my baby.

 

momma.

second Sunday of May. Momma, this one's for you.

Being adopted, I feel like I get to say that my mom was hand-picked just for me. (Well, I suppose it was more like me being picked by my parents...anyway...) I've often been asked how I feel about being adopted, and in a word: blessed.

I feel incredibly blessed to be the daughter of such a wonderful woman. She's hard-working, generous, compassionate, selfless--a genuine example of a woman striving after God's heart. But more than that, I feel blessed to have a slightly different understanding of what it means to be adopted into the family of Christ, to become a child of God.

How so, you ask?

Here's my thoughts:
My adoption was never a secret. For my family, adoption was not something to be ashamed of, quite the opposite! My mom always made a conscious effort to make me aware of and cultivate an appreciation for my Korean heritage. That being said, I often forget that I don't look like the rest of my family. My momma, is my momma.

I have had the opportunity to experience what it's like to be taken in and loved as part of a family that wasn't initially my own.

I don't say all this to disown or forget about my mother who went to great risks to keep and grow and bear me, for her sacrifice I am forever grateful. Actually, I am blessed to have two mothers to remember and thank and be grateful for. So...

To my Korean mother,
Thank you for choosing to give me life. For deciding that my life and all that it would become was worth the risk. Thank you for selflessly giving me a chance to be loved and cared for, I most definitely am. Most of all, thank you for showing me selfless love from the start.
사랑해 (I love you)
리 경 림 (Lee Kyung Rim)

To my Momma,
Thank you for choosing me. For loving me as your own. As a poem or book or card you've shared with me said, I "didn't grow in your belly, but I grew in your heart." Thank you for giggles and Katy days and trying new food and traveling to visit me and prayers. Most of all, thank you for your genuine example of unconditional love.
Love,
Kate

visiting me in Portugal 2007

Happy Mother's Day!