Today, I took my son, Bashful, to his old school in order to take a standardized test in accordance with state law. A few of his friends were there as well and I left him there knowing he was happy and content in his environment.
As I was leaving, I noticed a woman that I was aquainted with standing in the doorway of one of the classrooms. Her little girl had gone to this school with Bashful and when her daughter greeted me, I moved closer to say hello.
Before I reached her, she scooped down to pick up a little bundle. As she stood up, I looked into the blanket in her arms and saw a beautiful, little baby boy. His tiny face was scrunched up in annoyance and I chuckled at the frown on his forehead.
I reached out and ran my finger over his hair and smooth cheek and exclaimed softly, "He's beautiful!" "He's a new one," I added. She expressed her thanks and by the gentle smile and loving look on her face, I could tell she was proud of this sweet baby and that he had wiggled his way into her heart.
I looked up at her and with hopeful gentleness I asked, "Is this one for keeps?" She looked at me with one part apprehension and one part hope. "I think so," she said. "She has already lost two of her other children."
I looked down at this precious little life and she added, "I got him when he was two days old." I felt my heart twist for this good woman. I barely know her and yet I keenly feel her longing.
I gave the baby one last touch to the head and said goodbye. I drove home thinking about this woman and thought of her all day.
My own baby is five months old now. He is much changed since he was a newborn. He is bright-eyed and smiley. He coos and plays with his toes. Everything goes in his mouth and he laughs at his brothers' antics.
From the minute he was conceived, he was mine and I loved him. When he was born, I reveled in the features of his face and was immediately consumed with love for him. When he looks at me, he recognizes me. He knows who I am and he smiles because he knows he is loved.
As I look at my own precious baby, I wonder what it is like for those women who love their foster babies only to have them taken from them. What is it like for them when their babies see their foster mother's face and want to be forever held by them only to be taken into a stranger's arms?
It grieves me.
I know how much this precious woman already fiercly loves this little one whom she has taken care of. She has been his mother since he was two days old and even though he is still very young, she loves him as if he came from her own body. I know it because I would feel the same way.
As I came by this afternoon to pick up Bashful and take him home, I saw her holding her foster baby closely and saw myself a few months ago with my own new baby. I constantly had him in my arms as if I couldn't bear to be apart from him.
Today, as I look into my sweet, little love's face, he brightens up and smiles at me. He begins to coo and his whole body comes alive with wiggles and squirms. I pick him up and hold him close. I pray that this woman will someday know the same joy that I have.
I pray he is for keeps.
As I was leaving, I noticed a woman that I was aquainted with standing in the doorway of one of the classrooms. Her little girl had gone to this school with Bashful and when her daughter greeted me, I moved closer to say hello.
Before I reached her, she scooped down to pick up a little bundle. As she stood up, I looked into the blanket in her arms and saw a beautiful, little baby boy. His tiny face was scrunched up in annoyance and I chuckled at the frown on his forehead.
I reached out and ran my finger over his hair and smooth cheek and exclaimed softly, "He's beautiful!" "He's a new one," I added. She expressed her thanks and by the gentle smile and loving look on her face, I could tell she was proud of this sweet baby and that he had wiggled his way into her heart.
I looked up at her and with hopeful gentleness I asked, "Is this one for keeps?" She looked at me with one part apprehension and one part hope. "I think so," she said. "She has already lost two of her other children."
I looked down at this precious little life and she added, "I got him when he was two days old." I felt my heart twist for this good woman. I barely know her and yet I keenly feel her longing.
I gave the baby one last touch to the head and said goodbye. I drove home thinking about this woman and thought of her all day.
My own baby is five months old now. He is much changed since he was a newborn. He is bright-eyed and smiley. He coos and plays with his toes. Everything goes in his mouth and he laughs at his brothers' antics.
From the minute he was conceived, he was mine and I loved him. When he was born, I reveled in the features of his face and was immediately consumed with love for him. When he looks at me, he recognizes me. He knows who I am and he smiles because he knows he is loved.
As I look at my own precious baby, I wonder what it is like for those women who love their foster babies only to have them taken from them. What is it like for them when their babies see their foster mother's face and want to be forever held by them only to be taken into a stranger's arms?
It grieves me.
I know how much this precious woman already fiercly loves this little one whom she has taken care of. She has been his mother since he was two days old and even though he is still very young, she loves him as if he came from her own body. I know it because I would feel the same way.
As I came by this afternoon to pick up Bashful and take him home, I saw her holding her foster baby closely and saw myself a few months ago with my own new baby. I constantly had him in my arms as if I couldn't bear to be apart from him.
Today, as I look into my sweet, little love's face, he brightens up and smiles at me. He begins to coo and his whole body comes alive with wiggles and squirms. I pick him up and hold him close. I pray that this woman will someday know the same joy that I have.
I pray he is for keeps.
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~Dani