TRUE LOVE TUESDAY: MOTHERHOOD THE ULTIMATE SUCCESS

I knew early on that I could not bear children; the abuse that I suffered as a child shattered my uterus. So I never really imagined myself with children. I did hope that if I did get married I would marry a man with children. Well I did get married and he had one daughter from his first marriage. I thought this was a great blessing. I could be a wonderful stepmother. I was a thoughtful, caring step-mother...if only she had better biological parents...LOL!

When we thought I was pregnant and found out that I was not, we were profoundly sad. So sad that we began thinking that children might be in our future. I starting jumping through infertility hoops. I mean so much time had passed since the orginal prognosis of infertility. I was no longer a kid. Medical technology had come a long way. Maybe. I had two surgeries to try to repair the uterus. I had tumors removed. I did the shots. I did the turkey baster and the sperm. You name it we did it. At the same time my husband(soon-to-be EX) suggested we look at adoption. The minute he said it, it was like the universe just opened up. The One Church One Child program was looking to recruit African-American families to adopt African-American children. We completed the course and became certified parents. Within weeks we started looking at children. Our first daughter arrived when she just turned 3 years old, Briana Lorraine (Lorraine is my Sister's name). We lavished her with all our love for 2 years before Margeaux arrived. Before Margeaux arrived I went to see another infertility specialist, who gave me a 2% chance of getting pregnant. We tried it all again. Finally I said enough. I dropped the remaining infertility drugs off to my Doctor to donate. By the time I got home that afternoon, we got a call about a newborn....we named her Margeaux Helena, after my Mom and my mother-in-law.

Next came Khalil Ross...named after his Father...my ex--it is his Muslim name and his English middle name, then Gregory Lockhart...Lockhart is my brother's middle name--one that is traced back to the time of slavery through our father and grand-father and great-grandfather and so on. Each child has their own story of abuse and abandonment. Stories that no child should have to experience.

It has been a joy that cannot be put into words. It is love that I have longed to have. I have found myself in these 4 children. They have saved my life and given me purpose and a fearlessness that I did not have before. I wanted more children. But that dream is quickly fading. I could if I had the means, adopt a couple more children (smile). Every child ought to have a decent and loving home. Every child needs to be loved and protected and cared about. This is my greatest success...providing a safe, and happy environment where they are loved and cared for all the time.

Don't get me wrong everyday is not a picnic. I scream and yell and may say a bad word or two, but at the end of the day I am their mother and they are my children and nothing and no one will harm them while I have breathe in my body. I know when I climb those stairs at night and peek in on each one, tucking covers, picking teddy bears and dolls up, moving books out beds and kissing foreheads, I know that whatever I have done and will do in my life will pale in comparison to raising these 4 amazing children.

So tomorrow I will finish up talking about some of my successes in my life. The effects of doing this is beginning to get me to think differently about who I am. That is a very good thing.