I was compelled to write this post after watching the documentary "Babies" recently. The documentary chronicled the early development of four babies in Tokyo, Mongolia, San Francisco, and Namibia. Not only was it a fascinating glimpse into the life of families worldwide, it gave me a valuable opportunity to relate the global experience of parenting to my own experience.
Upon reading some of my previous posts, you already know or may have learned that I'm a mother. I'm not just a mother; rather, I'm the mother of a toddler who resembles me...looks like me, is stubborn like me (my husband can attest to this), laughs like me, and loves like me. Nature and (not just vs.) nurture. That, my friends, is the JOY of genetics. The joy of motherhood. A joy many have enjoyed before me, a joy many take for granted, and a joy I lived without for a long time.
As someone who, for many years swore she would not have children, I've seen the light. Now, that does not mean everyone should have children, it simply means that I have the personal pleasure of reveling in the experience of caring for a little life that my husband and I created. A life that is biologically linked to me. A life that shares my blood, my history, my identity, and my genetic code. While some of those facts are tangible without the matching DNA (I'm living proof-see my previous post), it is the biological partnership that will, over time, greatly define my relationship with my child. It is my life's work, my love, my legacy.
Given the type of woman I am, I must admit that being pregnant was not my finest hour. Fortunately, I did not have any major complications, I just was not the greatest fan of being a nausea-ridden, heartburn-suffering vessel for 10 months. Of course, I am oversimplifying quite a bit and I certainly miss the belly-rubbing, and marathon kicks, but hindsight is 20-20, isn't it? Yes, but that is not the point.
I've been asked from time to time if I wonder where I get my looks from...my curly hair, my almond-shaped eyes, my height, etc. The answer? I'm not really sure. Not a day goes by that I don't ponder the answers to those questions. It might happen when I'm taking my morning shower, when I'm sitting in a (useless) meeting, or when I'm eating dinner. The (sometimes) harsh reality of those questions is that I have less than a 1% chance of ever getting concrete answers. This past summer was a long-awaited, cathartic leap into my ongoing journey in the identity crusade. I'm not interested in (or emotionally prepared for) a birth family search. What was once a badge of hurt and despair, has now become a badge of honor, courage, and hope. It will be with me for life, and I wear it proudly.
My growing concern as a mother is the road that awaits my daughter in the multicultural race game. While it is not completely, or clearly defined, my daughter is (brace yourself): Korean, African-American, Italian, German, Irish, and Greek. Translation: she's a beautiful, little CaBlAsian (NO relation to Tiger Woods, thank God) girl with curly brown hair, shapely eyes and medium-fair skin. By today's standards, she's not all that unique. As families are increasingly multi-faceted, and less "traditional," she may experience less of the racial challenges I faced (and continue to deal with). However, there will be the usual assumptions, and questions when people see the three of us. Of course, there is little accountability for people's ignorance as we, as a society, learn to understand that people no longer fitting into "boxes." I'd prefer that my daughter not be the racially ambiguous test subject for people's stupidity, but how else are we supposed to learn?
Maybe this little diatribe will become one of my primary foundations of parenting, as my child gets older. Be proud and confident of who you are. Yes, it is a little cliche, but it is critically, morally, personally, and emotionally required. It is a lesson I learned a little late in life, but I embrace what it has afforded me as a mother.
I finally understand what it means to love, as a mother does. My mom always told me that I would understand one day, when I have my own children. She was SO right.
To my darling daughter: live life to the fullest. Learn to love, trust, and value who you are. Don't make excuses for people's ignorance. I love you more than you will ever know and I'm already so very proud of you. You are my heart's treasure.
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