In my twenties, I was never particularly interested in children. They made a lot of noise, took a lot of time, prohibited you from having a successful career, acted out in public, never seemed overly grateful - and then there was the piece of my that never wanted to have a little person of "myself". This all came from never feeling fully loved and appreciated for my essence. I understand the logic of it all being quite normal for someone my age with my ambitious nature.
Then there was this deeper part of me. The one that only liked to babysit a little girl named Cary Newman. She was my band teacher's daughter. A little black girl adopted into a white family. She was cute and funny and liked to play board games. I loved the color of her skin. It reminded me of my 5th grade teacher. He was the one public school teacher whom I felt modeled the example of a solid education and I adored that he made time to answer my 1000's of questions - every minute of every day. He never got impatient with me. Rather - he saw me as inquisitive and challenging! His name was Philemon Mtatabikwa. My father insisted that he come over for dinner often and Mr. Mtatabikwa would allow my sister and I to ask all sorts of questions about being "black". He gave me special gifts - a necklace and some beads from Salisbury, Rhodesia. I believe that city has changed names. Mind you everything in Africa has changed radically. I remember my immediate fascination with Africa itself - wanting to go to see the beauty of the animals and the people in such beautiful shades of brown. The colorful fabrics. The languages. The bright white smiles. I vowed that I would go there someday.
Sometime in the mid to late 80's I was hired by a man named Peter Traverso. Peter was from South Africa. He tolerated my ignorance of South Africa, race relations and continued defense of people of color. I had no understanding of all the changes, apartheid, racism, reverse racism - there was so much for me to learn. And Peter had the patience of Job. And I think he liked me a lot - we shared a similar sense of humor and enjoyed working together. Peter was an interesting man.
Peter became my mentor. I respected him completely. I genuinely cared deeply about the work he asked me to do and made sure he got my very best effort. I advanced quickly and Peter gave me more and more challenges. So I credit him (along with my hard work ethic) for the rapid advancement and overall success of my career in interior design. Where would I be now without him?
All these ties to Africa. People of color. Some sort of identification with them.
And then came the time I realized I was running out of time to become a mother. Something in me changed. Could I be a different person now that I had achieved my career goals and felt more emotionally complete? My life was settled and happy. What was it I really wanted? Well strangely enough, a little brown baby girl. And my husband and I were completely receptive to whatever little bundle of love and joy came our way. I had definitely married the right man to make this dream come true.
We did all the paperwork, paid endless fees, had never ending home visits, were probed and questioned about every little iota of our lives... and then the final question, "What race of child do you want?" We both said we didn't care. Whatever mother chose us was the one directed by God and our baby's soul from Heaven above. And sure enough, it happened. And God bless her, Kami's tummy mommy called and we were blessed with most amazing child in the world.
A beautiful brown baby girl. It was a dream come true. And I was so ready to be a mama. So what about everything I thought when I was a twenty-something? Well - it all totally disappeared and I became what I was truly born to be. Mary Kamisha Norbom's mama.
Our little Peanut. She was so small - 5 pounds 14 oz. So so tiny and so exceptionally beautiful. And now every second of every day goes by faster and faster. Or at least it seems so. I can't slow it down. She is growing up way too fast. What I wouldn't give to have my little toddler back for just one day.
Kami has been away at summer camp now for almost 8 weeks. She is eleven - becoming her own special person. I love the person she is becoming. So grounded, clear thinking, smart, peace loving, a true cuddler and in love with life. She is a good friend and an exceptional student with a love of learning. She is empathetic and cares about her friends and their feelings deeply. But most of all, she loves and respects her mama and dada and she loves her forever family. We love her more than words can express. How did I get so lucky? I ask myself that quite often. But I think most parents feel this way. As mothers, our job is to be our child's number one advocate. So there is no other love like a mother's love. I may not have received the kind of love I needed as a child, but I have this second chance at "mothering" with my daughter. And you better believe she knows how loved she it.
My dream has come true. My daughter is my dream come true. And I can't wait to see what she becomes. Every step of this journey has been truly amazing. And I wouldn't change one moment of it.
Next week when she comes home, there will be no happier mama in the universe than I. Because I will get to hold her, cuddle her and tell her just how much she truly means to me.
Becoming a mama? The best thing I have ever done in my life. Being Kami's mama? It's like holding a little piece of heaven in your heart and in your hands. I love you Peenie-puff. So so much.
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