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Untitled

Kathy Thompson

You know how events or circumstances in life can change what you thought was your life's course? How one moment in time can alter your entire perspective of the entire world? For me, that moment was when my adopted son called me "MOM" for the first time.

I was thirty years old, and according to society was getting past child bearing age and must marry and conceive before it was too late. This was sixteen years ago, long before it became "trendy" have children out of wedlock, or past thirty-five years of age. When I met my betrothed, I knew instantly he was not the man of my dreams. However, he was a big, handsome, smooth talking guy looking for anyone who would have him. After a whirlwind dating period of eight months we were married. I was pregnant, which was absolutely unspeakable for me. I was after all the "good" girl. I would have never do something as unethical as getting knocked up before I was married. Sadly, four months into the pregnancy I lost my first baby, two months prior to our wedding.

Our marriage was a series of functional and dysfunctional ordeals filled with lies and deception. I went on to lose two more babies, one in the fifth month of pregnancy and the other in the sixth. I remember the second birth best. It was Mothers Day. The nurse unknowingly, came into my room and said," Is the new mommy and her baby ready to go home for the first time together?" Those losses in my life changed me forever. Now, whenever I saw a child around the age as any of my babies, I reverted back to a hollow and empty place inside my grief. A vast cavern enveloped my entire core, constantly seeking ways to fill this burning hole inside. Somehow you never feel as though you are quite worthy, that everyone else is so much more deserving. This sense of devastation rocks the very core of your being, losing who you once were, forever. The inequity of those having children knowingly and purposefully and not wanting them, only deepened this sense of rage.

Depression surrounded me, and the thought of taking my own life somehow brought me great comfort. Maybe it was the concept of being with the children I was never to hear call me "mom" that tempted me. However, the consequences of suicide being too great a risk, I chose another venue. One in which would not only punish me slowly, but also ensure no one would ever hurt or love me again. I gained one hundred pounds and developed a sense of total unworthiness. Cramming pastries, cakes, pastas, breads, down my gullet while washing them down with a death by chocolate milk-shake served as my source of fulfillment, quenching for a brief moment the emptiness my spirit found impossible to withstand.

The day Jason came into my life was the first day I began to peal back the layers of loss, disappointment, unworthiness, and unfilled dreams. This little eight-year-old boy made me forget for a moment the pain and sorrow of a life that could have once been.

Jason's father was soon to be my ex-husband. Thoughts of whether he or the biological mother would fight for custody haunted my sleepless nights, and thundered through my head by day. There would be no peace until this battle was over. The phone rang, as I journeyed toward it, I couldn't help but wonder if this was it, the time for reclaiming what was thought to be rightfully theirs. The pace of my heart's beat quickened as I picked up the receiver and heard his voice, "Kathy, we both would like you to keep Jason until we are in a more secure position to care for him. Then Jason can be shared through joint custody between the two of us." In disbelief, I simply responded with, "Ugh,Yes, that would be best." After all they were the biological parents, right?

The months passed, Jason and I had grown to understand a new found trust and love that either of us had never experienced. Each day as I drove into the driveway form work he was there for me, his tiny arms flailed spastically in the air as I struggled to get out of the car and into the house to exchange the events of our day with one another. This new found love and trust had created a bound so strong not even the possibility of its end could interfere. We had grown to trust, love and depend upon one another.

It was Jason's ninth birthday, September thirteenth his father and I were in the throws of divorce, and I do mean throws. Dishes, pots and harsh words were heaved into motion as we argued outright. We never fought in front of Jason, we both knew his life had been one of chaos and confusion already. Our lives as we knew them were in total confusion. I decided it was time to move in with my mom. She possesses the ability to calm any storm, making life's swell seem as if it were only the gentle tide easing itself in and out with peaceful rocking, resting our weary souls. In my mother's home we would feel safe, here we would feel hope and love, and we both could use as much of this as we could possibly get.

Each day as I left the house for work I wondered if this would be the day. The day I would return home and find him gone. Jason as the pawn in their game of rivalry, waiting for checkmate by the king or queen. This fright would lie dormant within me, until I would see his smiling face and hear his sweet voice each day. Then, allowing myself I would to slip into my "Mom" space to savor our time together.

The echoing of his fathers' words ringing in my ears would infiltrate my dreams, "He is my child, I am the father." Self doubt filled my remains and I anticipated the worst possible outcome, one more loss of one more child. Still, something inside me would not allow me to give up, the sense of right and good found its way to my conscience and I regained the strength to fight back. The thought of being an eight-year-old boy having lived through five divorces already propelled me into action. I was his father's third failed marriage and his mother had been through two divorces herself. Each disappointment finding Jason bounced around as though he were a ping-pong ball, waiting for the next opponent in the match. This to me was unacceptable and the game was over.

A year passed, and it was time for the custody and divorce hearings. Approaching the court house I knew for the first time in a timeless continuum, that everything was going to turn out in our favor, mine and Jason's. As I walked into the building, I saw him, the biological father ready to do battle and claim what he felt was rightfully his. But now, I felt only pity and sadness for this man. My hate, rage, anger and pain toward him had somehow dissolved into a vapor, only to be blown out of the courtroom by the judges words. This past year had taught me how to love and be loved. Because of this child's innocent love for me, I had softened and evolved to a place of neutrality. Now, what was best for Jason was vital, and I knew that place was with me. The judges words rushed in and filled my head, like thunder rolling across a vast sea of an angry storm anxiously devouring all in its wake. The mantra of my own words thundered over and over again inside my entire being; "Please, Please, let it be, just let it be." The judges words rang out captivating everyone with anticipation; "It is my findings that the biological parents of this child, having no contact nor offering any monetary support during the past year, are hereby relieved of all parental rights." I sat there as the judge continued to give his entire requiem of what would be the next legal course of action. But the only words I heard now, were those of my own victory. "I won. He is mine."

As I drove into the driveway I saw them, Jason, mom, and Patches our Jack Russell pup, waiting, their faces had somehow changed. Now I only saw love and joy in their eyes. Or maybe it was my outlook on the world that had changed. As they ran to open my car door, tears streamed down my cheeks. It was all I could do to push the words from my chest, "We won, we won." Now my little boy's words filled my ears and one more layer of hurt and pain was peeled away revealing a smoother, softer me. "I always knew we would MOM, I just knew it." The three of us stood there crying feeling a new connection, for now we were truly family, the courts had considered it so. The day my son called me mom for the first time will live on in my memory, knowing this was my life's course. The perfection of life's cruelty had led me to a place of absolute precision. All was well and exactly as it was meant.