How Love is Thicker than Blood…

I received a random notification on my phone that mentioned that the month of November happens to be “National Adoption Month” (it’s likely not as random as I think because of something I previously GOOGLEDã) and immediately I began to think of my sisters.  I was the only child until the 6^th grade.  My mom always wanted more children, but because she didn’t particularly enjoy being pregnant, she decided to become a foster mom.  Some only children, desire a sibling.  I was not one of those children and didn’t desire one at all!  I couldn’t fathom sharing, so when my mom decided to put in the work to become a foster mom, I was not thrilled. I quickly got over it when I met the cutest little brown skinned girl I affectionately called “Brownie.” She taught me how to love.  She taught me how to share.  I can recall the day she came to live with us.  January 11^th.  6^th grade. A sister. I was a big sister.  I was the baby of the family.  My Mother’s only child.  My Father’s only daughter.  Making space for someone else was scary. Will I be loved the same?  Will my mom still make space for me? I was. And she did. We grew closer. She was adopted.  I grew as a sister, and as I grew, our family grew. 

A few days before Christmas, we received a Christmas Miracle in the form of the prettiest little girl with puffs in her hair.  She, I affectionately called, “The Littlest Sister.” The Littlest Sister came to live with us right before Christmas.  My Mom being the woman she is, provided an amazing Christmas for three girls.  Her girls.  As a mom of one, I know how challenging it can be so, I don’t know what kind of Black Girl Magic that lady has – but SHE DID THAT!!  The Littlest Sister’s place and presence in our family has taught me acceptance. She’s shown me how to create boundaries.  She was adopted.  And the two, became three. 

Throughout the years, we watched my mom foster young teenage girls in need, and our home became their refuge.  She became their advocate.  There were days we’d come home to be introduced to someone new. We’d make space. My mom would give them TOUGH. LOVE.  It was normal.  It was noisy.  It was LOUD! We’d jokingly call the house “Bright Horizons,” but we loved it and learned so much from growing up as we did.  My Mom grew up in her own version of “Bright Horizons.” Her Aunt (and Uncle) had a great big house, in South Jersey and it was a refuge for a host of kids. A revolving door for many. A permanent home for some.  So, it was normal for her too.  When I think of it, this type of Black Girl Magic runs all up and through this family.  A good portion of my family are adopted.  The smaller children, my older cousins, my sisters – THE CHOSEN. 

…And the three became four.  Right before the pandemic, mom adopted “Pretty Girl.” She’s has the sweetest and quietest spirit. Watching her blossom into her own; from the shy 6-year-old to the bubbly 5^th grader trying to convince my mom to allow her to get a TikTok channel, has truly been a gift.  She’s taught me gratitude and patience. 

The women in my family may not have birthed these children in a traditional sense but have loved and fought for them (sometimes they’ve had to fight the system as their advocates). Their consistency, their want to protect them, has birthed them in a whole other way.  This November, I honor them.  I honor the mothers who love without sharing the same blood.  I honor the mothers who love their chosen children, with the same heart that they love their biological children.  I honor those, who don’t even see the difference. I honor women like my mom, who teach other foster mom’s how to navigate this system.  Women who birth a child in this way and understand how LOVE, is thicker than BLOOD – I HONOR YOU!

To my sisters, forever, there is love.

To those who were chosen, there is love.

Be encouraged.