Give Me Your Tired…

Gigi is home and recovering beautifully. Thank you so much for asking. Her energy level improves daily. The area of her scalp that was so damaged by the multiple surgeries she had to stop the bleeding in her head is healing little by little day by day. Her courage amazes me. She came home, she found her feet, and she wanted to run. That want, even though it caused, some scary falls, is what carried her through. Her determination is extreme. I am 100% sure that is why she is alive.

She does have a clotting disorder. That was a shock. But, it’s not unmanageable. It’s so much better to know these things and be able to face them head on. As Joe and I took a moment to absorb the news, which, literally, only took a moment, we both had the same kind of divine moment of gratitude.

Gigi is a miracle. This clotting disorder is completely separate from her hearing, vision and heart issues, which were probably all caused by one “something”, but we have yet to figure out what that “something” is. Prenatal infection? Genetic mutation or deletion? We don’t know yet. But, this clothing disorder is different, and also relatively rare.

Our sweet girl is the lotto of genetics.

It is a miracle she is alive.

I won’t take that for granted, not for one day.

Not taking anything for granted leads me to the next sort of semi-troubling “something” that has been happening in our home. I have been blogging here since 2009. This blog has seen me from four children to 11. From becoming Becky who lived in a bubble and didn’t really understand what her brown babies would face, to being keenly aware by being slapped with it over and over again.

Becky from the bubble, who wrote to you, only you weren’t here yet, in 2009 no longer exists. I think we all go through that, right? Life is one metamorphosis after another. You become, and you become, and you become. I’m becoming quite different than I was.

My children, obviously, are as well.

The hate we face is at an all time high.

It has invaded this little corner of the internet in ways I have never seen. I get more hate mail than I have ever gotten before. Foul mouthed, abusive, using the name of our President against me, hate.

I am what you profess to want me to be. A white, Christian, pro-life mother of many through adoption. The problem becomes when I speak the way this white, Christian, pro-life mother of many through adoption NEEDS to speak. It’s not the way some of you think I should. And because some of you confuse privilege with pie, thinking that equal means less for you, I get a lot of anger lashing out from a place of fear.

When I speak about my children’s black lives mattering, it doesn’t mean your white children’s don’t. I don’t know where you got that idea. I’m only speaking out, as an mother, any Christian, any person who identifies as pro-life, should. Because, statistically, facts have proven over and over black people are in danger in this country. Equal for my children does NOT mean I want less for yours. I speak out in favor of the ACA and people automatically assume it means I want people to pay more for the health care we all require as a human right. I do not. I want to pay less, but not on the backs of some of the children in my home becoming uninsured all together.

It’s loud here, so I have backed away. The question then becomes, if writing this publicly is so painful, do I take it back to what it once was, a blog of musings meant for only my children to read. Thousands of you visit every day. It is my hope that maybe by opening our lives like this, you laugh a little, and maybe learn something too. What you learn will vary. Maybe you’ll learn big families aren’t freaky, that childhood trauma isn’t a death sentence, or that black kids really do feel other-ed a lot in our communities. Maybe you’ll see the beauty in the broken and you’ll go on to adopt. Maybe you won’t, but you’ll understand why I see the beauty in it.

That was my hope.

I am so blessed by this blog. We have gained friends and support from it in ways I couldn’t have imagined, so it is definitely a give and receive situation. It feels like I’m giving a lot of my children though and receiving a lot of hate lately in return.

That has made me retreat just a little, to take the gift that my kids are to the world every day and hold onto them for just myself. I’m scared. It’s so hard for me to know, are they safe with you?

As I typed this earlier today, feeling so dejected, I watched tonight as several hundred people gathered at airports to try to protect complete strangers. I have to hold onto faith that you would do the same for my kids.

I would do it for yours.

FullPlateMom, who has no hate, and no fear, everyone is welcome here.

4 thoughts on “Give Me Your Tired…

  1. I’m 23 and basically want to be you. Not in that copy-cat sense, but I want to adopt and be aware and advocate. Please keep writing!

  2. I don’t know why there is souch ugly. I don’t know why people hate on you and your family. I thank you for your courage. I thank you for the inspiration.

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