Just Because he Doesn't Look Like me, Doesn't Mean I'm Not His Real Mom
Are you his real Mom? I will never forget the day. I had bundled up my sweet little boy for his first haircut. I had driven 35 minutes to a highly recommended and overpriced "children's" hair salon. They had ponies and race car seats, TV's playing popular movies and a small toy area in the center of the salon surrounded by a white picket fence. The price tag attached I thought would be worth every penny for his first haircut for the magical experience I had dreamed it would be.
As he sat there getting his haircut, he smiled at me and was enjoying it. I was so happy and then as the stylist was making small talk with me she asked me, "are you his real Mom"? I stood there for a minute, I am sure with my mouth hanging open unsure that I heard her correctly. Surely I misheard her, I thought. But no, she repeated it for me, "are you his real Mom"? Saying it a little louder and clearer like I may not have heard her the first time. Before I could answer, she followed up with. You know there are so many "mixed" marriages these days, you never know.
My thoughts were, can this lady be serious? Am I his REAL Mom? I am the one who gets up with him several times a night, rocks him, holds him bathes him, feeds him, left my career for him, takes him to the doctor, went through a 14 month process to get him, flew to a foreign country not once but twice. I went through more for him before he even was placed in my arms forever than most people could imagine. I cried for him before he was even officially mine, and prayed myself to sleep on most every night. Yes, he is my son and yes I am his real Mom. No, I didn't give birth to him if that is what you were really asking, but that is honestly none of your business and I can't believe you would ask me this.
Instead I replied. Yes, I am his real Mom. She said, "oh, well I thought he was adopted". Are you kidding me? But I replied, "he was born in Guatemala and we did adopt him". Silence.
She finished his haircut, my son never knew of the conversation, I paid, we left and we never returned. I left with tears in my eyes, but in the end I left knowing I am his real Mom.