Once when I was a young girl, probably in 4th or 5th grade, I went shopping with my Mom. She was looking at the racks of clothing at Sears, while I entertained myself by looking at the jewelry counter nearby. I heard a baby crying and as I turned to locate the baby, I saw a beautiful woman pushing the crying infant in a stroller. She stopped to look at some clothes for her older child, and I edged my way over to the baby. I sat down on the floor and began to talk and smile and make funny faces, until the baby was laughing with me. I continued to stay with the baby as my mom shopped and the baby's mom shopped. Before too long I heard my Mom call out for me, and I stood up so she could see me. She walked over to where I was, and I said, Mommy, look at this pretty baby girl." Mom acknowledged that the baby was cute, and made a remark to that fact to the baby girl's mother. Then we parted ways. I turned back just in time to see the baby look around the side of the stroller and wave a little bye-bye gesture.
I took my mom's hand as as we walked out of the store I told my mom, "Some day I am going to have a baby just like that one. A sweet baby girl."
My mother said, "Charlotte that would be impossible."
I remember looking up at her with a puzzled face, "Why Mommy? Is it because I may only have baby boys?"
"No," Mom replied, "It is because that baby is black, and your children will be white."
"I don't think so Mommy," I said so matter of fact, "I do believe I will have a baby, just as beautiful and black as that one." Needless to say Mom dropped the subject, and I don't remember ever thinking about it again....UNTIL.....
July 11, 1988 arrived. I found myself now 33 years of age, with two biological children, and one adopted bi-racial son. I am coaching a young black woman through labor and delivery. I met this 18 year old woman through the church I was attending at the time. She wanted someone to foster her baby until she could finish high school and get her college degree. The Associate Pastor at church had set up counseling sessions for the young mother-to-be to attend, and had appointments set up with Cook County Social Services so everything would be legal. Yet, up to this very moment in time, she had not attended any counseling sessions and had told me when we registered her at the hospital, that she did not want social services involved. I still held my promise to her that I would be her coach, not knowing what she would decide to do.
Since we had not been through the birthing classes through the hospital, I was not allowed to go into the delivery room, and I remember so vividly the while line on the floor, which said "Stay behind this white line".
I could hear the birth mother screaming, and screaming, and she was not calming down to listen to the nurses or the doctor. She screamed out my name, and finally the nurse came to me with a gown, and said that the doctor had agreed to let me in the room. Once the birth mother saw me, she calmed down, and was listening to what she needed to do. I held her hand, standing on her side, and I could see the baby's head come out, with lots of black curly hair. Then the Doctor told the young woman to stop pushing. I looked at the baby, now with shoulders out, and saw that the cord was wrapped around her neck. With one very gentle movement he slipped his finger underneath the cord, and pulled it over the top of the baby's head.
Two more pushes, and a healthy baby girl was born into this world. And such a beautiful one too!
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| Sarah and I enjoying some quiet time. |
The story gets kind of convoluted, as the young mother relinquished her rights to this bundle of perfection. Then changed her mind, wanting the baby back, then changing her mind again, and finally she and the birth father met with a Social Worker and signed away their parental rights. I took this sweet gift home for good when she was 10 days old.
Signed, sealed, and delivered: Miss Sarah Elizabeth was my baby girl. She was just as beautiful if not more beautiful than the baby I saw all those years before in Sears. When my Mom got her first photos of Sarah, she called me and said, "Well, Miss Charlotte Jean, you were right! You said someday you would have a beautiful black baby girl...and dang nab it, if you didn't pull it off." I give the credit to God.
I nursed Sarah, like I had nursed all my children, with some help from the La Leche League. She might not have been the child of my womb, yet this little bundle of wonder was the child of my heart and soul.
She had a very special connection with her older sister, Kimberly. Those two were so close. Kimberly was 13 years old when Sarah was born. She was Sarah's 2nd Mommy really, and was such a help in those days of diapers, midnight meals...there were nights I remember coming out of the bedroom in the middle of the night to find Kimberly rocking baby Sarah, singing to her as she gave her a supplemental bottle of formula. It warmed my heart so many times to see the two of them together.
There was some rough roads that Sarah and I and Marty traveled on to get her through high school, hormones were shooting out of control on both ends...me going through menopause at the same time Sarah was going through puberty and all the teenage hormones that can bring with it SO much drama. There were years when Sarah wore the Crown of Drama Queen very proudly. Yet, no matter how rough the road, we kept at it until we worked through everything that needed worked through. She had lots to learn, and I had lots to learn, and we taught each other so many valuable life lessons.
So, as I sit here today, and I think back on the last 23 years that Miss Sarah has been my baby girl, and I stand tall and proud of the gorgeous young woman she has grown into. I marvel at her maturity (which came at great cost, and many hard life lessons). She has those womanly instincts that help her on her journey now. She has Owl medicine from her Ojibwa roots, she has my Mom, Granny, who watches over her always, and she has purpose and direction in her life.
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| Mother's Day 2011 |
This past week she graduated from an academy (these things must be held secret for her safety) and as her dad and I watched her in her uniform, watched her take her oath of service, of course the tears trickled down.
My beautiful baby girl has grown into a beautiful, strong young woman.
Look out World...Sarah Elizabeth has arrived!
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