my heart healed...

cedar & grandma marmie, canon 50D


daddy (vu-vu) & cedar


daddy, cedar, me & callie lu


darlene (auntie) & cedar




my parents & cedar baby

On our drive home from Oregon to San Diego, we made sure to stop at my parents house on the way. They live on a house up a hill with a beautiful view at the bottom of the Sierra's. We were exhausted from the drive, the whole beautiful experience and from me coming down with an awful cold. We had been in the car more than 6 hours when we pulled up to my parents place and there was my dad, sitting in the garage waiting for us with a grin wider than the sky.

Having my parents come out to greet us and see baby Cedar for the first time, strapped into his car seat, was a dream coming to reality for me. To see their eyes well up with tears and awe and to giggle and be speechless filled my heart so.

It was then that it all came crashing in on me that this is real. That I haven't been dreaming after all. That I really was bringing a baby home. A baby I call my son. His name is Cedar. Oh my gosh...his name is Cedar! We've had that name for boy or girl for years now. Now it is not only written in the pages of our journals but it belongs to a living, breathing, little being that depends on us for everything. A little being that I have fallen so deep in love with that if I go to the bathroom to pee, I miss him. Does that make me co-dependant? Hee. ; )

So, to see this same love in the eyes of my parents was something I will never forget. And then the next day my big sister Darlene came over and she looked at my father holding Cedar and cried. Laughed and cried and then I cried and we all laughed.

And it was then that I became more aware that it wasn't just Boho Boy and I on this journey. It was all of us. Our families and dear friends that love us so much and wanted this so badly for us and for them. Cedar is our little dream miracle baby on high come to fruition and we are all just butter around him. Melty, creamy, butter-like puddy in his tiny pudgy hands.

As soon as we all stepped foot into my parents warm, cozy house...I felt the healing begin. She whipped us up a bowl of her famous chicken soup for the soul and all was well. I didn't realize how much I needed my parents until I was in their arms. And I didn't realize how much I needed to process all that had transpired until I was curled up on the couch near my mother and sister sharing all the details of the "birth" day while looking through photos on my camera. The parts that still hold tenderness in my heart made me well up with tears and I felt comforted and listened to and understood.

I am the first person to adopt a child in my family. We are all newbies. We are all stumbling and figuring out the myriad of emotions that come with it. It feels good to help guide their emotions through it as I share our relationship with the birth parents. I am so very blessed at their openness and willingness to try on a new path for our family.

My sister already shared this story on her blog but I wanted to share my perspective too. It was a pivotal point in our time together.

It was the second night and Boho Boy and I were running on just a few hours sleep. My cold was increasingly getting worse and it was obvious that if we didn't get any rest, we wouldn't be of good use to our sweet baby. My parents and sister offered to watch him while we caught up on our sleep. A few hours later, I hear my mothers voice in our dark bedroom..."We need a mommy or daddy" and in the background, I hear a blood curdling scream. We've never heard Cedar scream like this. Boho Boy walked out to the living room first and I followed, staggering behind. He picked Cedar up and tried to burp him, assuming it was a huge gas bubble (isn't it always?) and something fierce inside me told me to grab Cedar. Not because I didn't think my husband could comfort Cedar because so many times he has been the one that could calm him rather than me. But it was just this primal instinct that took over me...and as soon as I grabbed him and put him on my shoulder, his head plopped down into my neck and he stopped crying immediately. He breathed heavy into my neck and wrapped his arm tightly around me. I looked around at everyone and their mouths dropped open. There was silence...for a long while.

I know they were all shocked because they had been trying to calm him for 30 minutes and in once second he hushed in my arms.

For me...it was magical. It was all of the excruciatingly painful days and months and years waiting for him to come into our lives wrapped into one healing moment. He wanted his mommy. I am his mommy. Wait...I am his mommy?!?! He knows I am his mommy. Even though I didn't carry him in my womb for nine months...he knows my scent, my voice, my skin, my spirit. All the little bits of doubt that would drip into my mind about whether or not he knows who I am melted away. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, breathed in the scent of his skin, danced back and forth in the living room while holding him gently, stroking his head and said over and over..."Mommy is here, it's okay...mommy is here."

And he fell asleep. Just like that.

My heart healed that day.