i am mama...hear me roar!

something happens to you when you become a mama...something that only other mama's can likely understand. something in you changes....something in you becomes physically, emotionally and spiritually connected to this little life...in a way that is nearly impossible to explain. the miracle is, no matter how or when this happens....it happens.

...there is no avoiding it.

i became "mommy," via adoption at thirty-one years old and again at thirty-two. both times the craziest, most terrifying....most beautiful thing happened....

i heard my children cry for the first time. 

when you become a mommy via adoption...at least adoptions like ours...there are some things that do not happen...

you do not get nine months to get used to the idea of parenting this child....you get maybe nine seconds.

you do not get to feel your child grow and move inside of you.

there is no period of intense pain and suffering through which you bring the child into the world....confirming (in case there were still any doubts) that this child is in fact yours.

there are no showers. 

no time to set up a nursery.

...nothing about becoming a mom is "normal."

this is what does happen....

in some way, shape or form..."normal" becomes redefined.

that cry, the very first cry i heard from each of my babies....it sent the most intense physical and emotional pain through me...a pain that stopped as soon as i held them and they became silent.

this was my moment....this was the gift god gave me to let me know that these precious lives were being entrusted to me. this was the moment i became "mommy."

i never imagined being a mom in the way that i am. even when i knew that i would not be able to have biological children....i still had expectations...

but in that moment...my normal was redefined....no matter what happened from that point forward...i was mama now...

i had to learn to roar.

this is not a story about adoption...or about me...it's a story about the expectations and fears we have as moms....and about what happens when we are able to let them go.

maybe you have seen or have been following the story of the sweet boy brittany and i found in port-au-prince. if not, here's the short version....

late one night, we were called to go check on a child that reportedly had cholera and was being left to die....at this particular hospital, this is not uncommon. when we arrived, while we found that particular child was receiving treatment and was stabilized....the condition of the hospital itself was worse than we could have ever been prepared for. 

the spaces between the cribs, just large enough for brittany and i to squeeze our not-so-large 5'4 frames through...sideways, were filled with mama's sleeping next to and under their sick and dying babies. as long as we kept moving we only felt intense heat and were assaulted with the smell of human waste and ultimately death....the moment we stopped moving, we noticed the mice that scurried all over the walls, floor, cribs and mom's. in the very few empty spaces on the floor, mosquitos breeded by the swarms in standing water, that we can only assume was a combination of a leaking building and backed up sewage.

....for these mama's this was the best place they could take their sick child.

way in the back...where there were rats that I am sure came out of a science fiction movie....we found them. he was so small...naked...shivering...we didn't even know if he was alive.

brittany, literally being put on this earth to care for children such as this, was drawn to him as a moth to a flame. i have to admit...it took me a little bit longer to put aside my anger....not anger at the hospital...not at Haiti....but genuine anger at a god that allows me to sleep in a bed every night...and to put my babies in a crib free from bugs and rodents....

.....and then there was this child....sleeping with rats larger than himself.

....his mommy slept in a puddle of...your guess is as good as mine...with mice crawling over her.

i had to step out. 

pull. it. together. erika lynn.

i silently got on my soapbox and told the creator of the universe what i thought of how he was handling things...i asked, in a not-so-respectful tone....

"why the hell am i here, if you're just gonna let them all die??" 

yup....said that to god....don't worry, he's heard worse, i'm pretty sure he can handle it.

this was the response.....

i sent you here.....

because you are willing

not for that child but for his mother

because there is something i need you to learn....AND

don't ever forget....you asked me too!

great! 

so, I did what I do a lot....listened to the parts i thought were important....and ignored the part about me learning stuff...

when i got back in, everything became very clear....all i could see was the mama of this tiny baby....she was a baby herself.

at first i wondered how...or what i could possibly have to give her...our lives were so drastically different and my creole is crappy at best.

but then i saw her eyes...i knew that look. i used to have that look...heck, i probably still have that look most days!

it was the look that said, "i don't know what i thought this was supposed to be like....but this sure as hell wasn't supposed to be like this! what do i do now?!?"

when i first got oak, jason was still living in the states and i had this baby, by myself in basically one room....in HAITI!

never had i expected to be a mom away from my mom...my grandma...my sister...my friends! yeah, i was thirty-one and had taken care of countless babies....but every single one of those babies had parents that came back and took them away....

this time, i was it! 

CRAP! 

how was i going to know what to do....or even worse....how was i going to get offended when people assumed I didn't know what to do??

that was the look this mama had...oh, for sure it came from different expectations and fears...but the look was the same. 

over the next couple of days, as we worked to get the baby moved to a better hospital, i continued to feel more and more connected to this young woman. i watched as the women around her came along side of her and taught her how to care for her child.

...i saw the mixture of shame and thankfulness that welled up inside of her every time she received help caring for her son....again, a feeling i knew all too well.

why is it that as women, we feel like we have to have all the answers...like we have to be able to fix every problem...like it is an indication that we have failed as a mother, if we have to ask for help? 

....what if it really, truly does take a village?

what if?

it was the second day....the baby's health status was declining. we had a bed at an amazing hospital...they were waiting for him. 

but daddy was m-i-a.

so what?

well, like many of us, haitian mothers will not make a decision without talking to the father...however, unlike in american culture, daddy is the end-all. without him, she could only sit and watch her child die. 

this is something that i continue to struggle with, no matter how long I have been in haiti or how much i learn about the culture. yes, jason and i always make choices for our children together...if possible, i will put off making an important decision until i can talk to him. but...if it comes down to the life of one of our kids...i know he would tell me to act and to act quickly in their best interest...

and i would tell him the same. 

none of that matters though....we, as an organization and individually, are committed to respecting cultural differences...to coming alongside of the people that we serve and providing them with the opportunities to help themselves. we refuse to push our own ideals, to imply that our culture is superior to theirs or to ride in as if we are the white saviors, here to do everything they have failed to or are incapable of doing. 

we hold to the belief that we are no more capable, no more worthy and no more intelligent...we simply have a different set of keys to a different set of doors...we cannot and will not force anyone to walk through a door...we can only share our keys.

we went back to the hospital late that night and the father had returned. another thing that americans need to know about haitian culture, is that they believe that white people are constantly trying to steal their children....so they can be reluctant to accept help.

as we sat and talked to the parents, it became pretty clear that this was the belief held by daddy...but that mommy really wanted to move their child. i knew my role here was with the mom....so I had to connect with her somehow. 

the community around them was telling them to go or that their son would die....they were right but i wanted this to be their choice...

at the same time, i  wanted to give her a voice as a mama. i could see a roar in this little woman...it was just begging to be brought out....

the great thing about not speaking awesome creole is that i can say whatever i want and brittany will make it sound awesome! so i started talking....

i tried to drown out the voices around us...it was just me talking to this woman. whenever i feel like i need to say something really important...i try to step out of myself and just allow jesus to use me as a vessel....

he knew exactly what she needed to hear.

pretty soon i was talking to her about our daughter....about how she used to be really sick and really tiny...just like her son. i talked to her about how scared i was and how i didn't know how to help her...so i had to bring her to people that did.

then i told her that i could see how much she loved her baby...i could see it because when she looked at him, it was the same way i looked at my babies. i told her that what was happening was not her fault...that she was a good mama and that god had given her this child because he knew she would take good care of him.

i told her that no one could make the choice for her....because god had entrusted this little life to her. 

then she asked how my daughter was now....so i showed her a picture of our sweet olive.

that was her moment....she had been a mother for one month...but in that moment, she became a mama!

this little girl stood up and literally threw clothes at her boyfriend...she said, "i don't care what you say, we're going!"

out came the roar!! 

daddy jumped! he bathed...he signed papers and we were in taxi within 30 minutes.

when it comes to being a mama, there are no cultural bounds....there is a primal, god-given instinct that allows you rise up in the face of danger, fear, death...even stolen toys...

and roar!

this little mama reminded me of that. i would move heaven and earth for my kids but sometimes i forget that i am equipped with everything they need...because god will give it to me when i/they need it. 

i will....and do make mistakes.....

i will....and do miss the village that i would have had in minnesota...

but my kids don't know that. 

all they know is what that little boy knows....

their mommy loves them enough to risk everything...to take a chance...

and roar in the face of anything or anyone that stands in their way.

i am mama....hear me roar ;)

therefore be imitators of god, as beloved children. and walk in love, as christ loved us and gave himself up for us, a fragrant offering and sacrifice to god.

~ephesians 5:1-2

now the man called his wife's name eve, because she was the mother of all the living.

~genesis 3:20