A Zebra!

We just returned from several days in Yellowstone and the Grand Tetons. My favorite moment of the entire trip went something like this...

We'd driven into the park after dinner. It was evening and the park was alive with wildlife. We'd see many cars pulled over and a crowd of people pointing and taking pictures. As we looked to see what they saw, one of us would yell something like, "Oh! I found it. It's a deer!" or, "There it is! A buffalo." This went on for some time.

At one point, we were driving along. There wasn't an animal in sight. Suddenly, our barely two-year-old screams, " Found it! A zebra!"

We all basically died laughing and have repeated the phrases no less than 500 times. Toddlers are the best.

Make Today Your Day

In creating the Facebook community TRIBE, I have found myself thinking about many aspects of adoption lately. While this blog isn't intended to be only about adoption, it is a topic that I feel called to discuss with some frequency. It is my hope that even those who remain untouched by adoption on a personal level, can learn and grow through what is found here and within the TRIBE community.

*************************************************

It was obvious, from moment one of Matthew's life, that we'd be talking openly about adoption right from the start. There's simply no hiding the fact that I didn't give birth to him--not that I would want to. 

We had to figure out what to say to Matthew--from day one--so that he wouldn't have a, "WAIT, WHAT? I'm ADOPTED?" moment. And, let's face it, being Black, that moment would have come sooner than it does for some. After reading A LOT, I believe that parents should start early, be honest, and keep it simple. (But keep reading because if you didn't start early or you weren't honest, YOU CAN FIX IT!)

In an article in Paediatrics Child Health, Dr. Cecilia Baxter writes:

                  Telling a child his or her adoption story at this early age may help parents
                   to become comfortable with the language of adoption and the child's birth
                   story. Children need to know that they were adopted. Parents' openness
                   and degree of comfort create an environment that is conducive to a child
                   asking questions about his or her adoption.      

I was terrified of the moment when we sat our son down and broke it to him that he had another family. And so I sought to avoid that altogether. From day one, I told him his story. It varied slightly and was certainly scaled down to his level. Could he understand as a newborn? Absolutely not. But I wasn't sure when he would understand and when he would be cognitively ready to comprehend that information. I had no clue what to say and so I simply told him his story.

Once upon a time, there was a mommy and she had a baby in her tummy. That baby was you. She wanted the very best for you and that meant finding a family with a mommy AND a daddy. She looked and looked and she found mommy and daddy and Garrett. We wanted another baby in our family so so much. One day, your mommy went to the hospital and you were born. She gave you to us and that is called adoption.

That was a very abridged version of the story, obviously. But, also, he was a newborn. I whispered it to him on occasion. Over time, the story got longer and filled in with more details. As a preschooler, sometimes, he would beg me to tell his story. Sometimes, he would tell parts of it to me from memory. His favorite part was always when I told him that, when he was born, he locked eyes with me. I would always dramatically make a face where I bugged my eyes out as far as I could, just to be silly. This turned into a version of the story where I would pause and then whisper, "You popped out and stared at me just (pause) like (pause) this..." and then both of us would turn our heads, in the dark of his room, and open our eyes as wide as we could, our noses nearly touching. He would then dissolve into a fit of laughter. He also always loved the part where Garrett did a happy dance when they met.

I haven't told Matthew his story in a long time--we've graduated to discussing much deeper adoption concepts in his old age. He is, after all, a wise nine year old. But telling him that story opened up communication at a toddler level and then a preschool level and finally an early elementary level. It showed him that we're willing to talk about his adoption openly. It allowed him to ask questions on his terms and at age appropriate levels. "Is she brown yike me?" "What does she look like?" "Why did she not want me?" It allowed us to answer honestly but always positively. "Yes." "She looks like you except she's grown up and a girl and I'll show you a picture in the morning." "She did want you. Oh, sweet boy, she wanted you so much..."

We also pray with our children. Thanking God for our adoptions is just one part of those prayers. I occasionally tell Will his story. But I ALWAYS pray for his birth parents and thank God that they chose us to ADOPT him into our family. I make sure to use that specific word in conjunction with the concept of him being our son. Sometimes I show Will the one picture I have of us with his birth parents. I explain who they are and how happy I am that they picked us.

These are easy ways to talk about adoption before it gets awkward. We can build on what they understand and use a scaffolding method to increase their knowledge as they grow and begin to think clearly for themselves. If you are considering adoption or have a very young adopted child, I would highly suggest beginning by telling them their story. Or even just whispering into their ear, "I'm so glad we were able to bring you into our family through adoption."

If your children are older, it's obviously never too late to start talking to them. I know of a family who, when they met our family, were able to tell their 4th grader that he was adopted. They'd never mentioned it to him before. He said something about Garrett having a black brother and they used that perfect opportunity to explain adoption and share with him that he'd come into their family the same way. He handled it so well. She later shared with me and I was so grateful to have played some small role in their journey of full disclosure to their son.

You may not be able to tell your older child a super basic story anymore--their cognitive development is way too advanced--but you can still use the storytelling method. Kids LOVE stories and they're narcissistic little buggers so they love stories about themselves even more. "We are going to tell you the story of how you joined our family. It's a beautiful story filled with love and waiting..." Tell them how desperate you were for them. Because if we adoptive parents share anything, it's a knowledge that we all lived in blind desperation for the children we longed for and now have. Be completely honest with your children. This doesn't mean telling them everything if parts of their stories are painful or detrimental to their psychological well being. It just means that you don't lie. EVER. If you lie to them, and they ever find out, you have discredited yourself entirely. If you find that you have lied to your child regarding their adoption story, own it. Kids FORGIVE. "I'm sorry. I wasn't honest because this is sometimes hard for me. Can you forgive me. Let me tell you what really happened..."

And finally, be okay with the questions and the statements. If they hurt your heart, so be it. You are bigger and older and more mature and you can handle a little, "I want to live with my mom and sisters." I promise you can handle it. I did. My son told me this very thing when he was about six. I knew he didn't want to leave me or the only life he'd ever known. He just wanted to meet them and know them and his language skills could only go so far in conveying his emotions. I recognized this and survived it and, I'm certain my son is better for my not having freaked out on him. "YOU WANT TO DO WHAT?"

It's never too soon to talk to our children. Day 1. Day 2,792. Make today your day. If you already talk honestly with your children, bring it up again today. Allow them to set the tone but make sure that you always have open lines of communication. If they are hesitant to talk about it, do not force them. Simply tell them that you are always, always willing to hear from them about this subject. In allowing them the chance to discuss their adoptions, we create foundations of trust and hem them in tighter to the family God has placed them in.

1. Baxter, Cecilia, MD. "Understanding Adoption: A Developmental Approach" Paediatrics Child Health. 2001 May-Jun; 6(5): 281-283. Web. 22 Jun. 2018. <https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC2804559/> 

Tribe

TRIBE n.

1. a social group comprising numerous families, clans, or generations

2. a group of persons having a common character, occupation, or interest

I recently started a Facebook community designed for adoptive/foster families, birth families, adoptees, and those who love them. All are welcome! It is a place where we can learn, inquire, and grow as we share our stories, relate to one another, and seek to understand.

The members differ in situation, position, religion, location, political views, approach, and opinion, but we show respect to every member of the adoption triad as we strive for growth. We practice empathy and love, knowing that we can gain a wealth of knowledge through the gift of one another. It is a place where you can find an adoption tribe as you strive to build your child's familial one. Members are invited to contribute, discuss, and explore as well as invite others to join. 

I have been a mother through adoption since 2009. The deeper into my journey I get, the more I realize that I want to use my own voice to advocate for healthy adoptions. In order to shape others, I must first be sure that I am growing and gaining knowledge in my own relationship with the sons who came to me through adoption. I feel that the very best way to do this is to listen to the voices of adult adoptees, birth families, and other adoptive families.

In May of this year (2018) my nine-year-old son and I traveled to Texas to see his birth family (maternal side). He hadn't seen them since he was an infant. The experience had a profound impact on us both and I returned home wanting to do more to be a voice for healthy open adoption. I have been blessed to have had the friendship of a now adult adoptee for the past 29 years. Her perspective and insight has been invaluable as I walk through the parenting of my children. I have also been given the gift of friends who have placed children for adoption. When we open dialogue with members of each point of the adoption triad, we enrich our lives, gain perspective, and learn from one another.

If you feel you would benefit from a community in which you can share, ask questions, seek advice, and meet other people involved in adoption, please consider joining us.

Tribe is a closed community designed to protect its members and the sometimes sensitive things they share. If you would like to join, please send an email to loribassham@yahoo.com . I will use your email address to send you an invitation to join our group. 

I look forward to "meeting" you and learning more about your adoption story.

The Day He Came

What is born in the sea

even if carried deep into

the breast of land

made dry in the desert

sage in the mountains

or sweetened in the orchards

shall yet and always carry that

old and familiar salt

-Jaiya John

Matthew is an introvert. He doesn't get that from me and he doesn't get it from his mother. But there you have it. He is quiet, shy, and anxious around others until he becomes completely comfortable in a situation. Then, and only then, does that funny and bubbly boy emerge. To this end, he doesn't make friends easily. He'd rather have one or two good buddies--or a backyard and his own imagination--than a room full of friends.

And so, I worried about our trip to Texas. I didn't lose sleep but I was prepared to watch my boy "turtle up" as we met his family. His quietness has, on more than one occasion, been perceived as rudeness and that was the last thing I wanted him equated with on this trip.

I needn't have worried. "What is born in the sea...shall yet and always carry that old and familiar salt." It was as though he'd known them forever. And, in some way, he had. All those 40 weeks spent dwelling inside her body. Swimming. Growing. Kicking. Hearing her voice. Knowing the gentle sway of the steps taken by her feet. His older sisters were there those 280 days. Buried somewhere in the recesses of his mind, is there the memory of Mama singing them to sleep while he struggled to Begin? Has he known them all these years because he knew them then?

He is there, in the car with me. Every step he has taken to this point has been difficult. He has only shared moments with me but it is there on his face when we board the plane. It is there over his eggs and bacon in the hotel--he seems somehow smaller and he uncharacteristically asks me to help him. It is heard in the nearly inaudible sigh from the backseat as we make the drive. And yet, his eyes dance with the excitement of what is finally coming.

"I'm really nervous," he says as we pull up in front of their home. I have every intention, the moment those words hit my ears, to take his hands, look him in the eyes, and tell him to breathe. I will pray over him. I will let him take as long as he needs before we make the journey from car to front door. But she appears from thin air, bending down, her face at the driver's side window. Her smile, broad. It is the smile I remember from our time together in years gone by, identical to the one that spreads joy across the face of our boy. 

As I open the door I say, "Well she's here..." We throw arms around each other and, like water over stones in a brook, she spills, "I had to take a walk. I got so nervous."

I whisper, almost silently, into her ear, "He's nervous too." Whether to give him time or out of sheer excitement, she turns and runs up the walkway, yelling to her daughters. Two of them pour from the house. Everything is happening so quickly. I glance at Matthew and he is stoic. A small smile tugs at the corners of his mouth but he walks cautiously, a trait that comes from his father, no doubt, because it isn't from this maternal side of the family.

One sister calls to another, "Get out here! It's Matthew, he's really here!" and then, before speaking to him, she runs back inside. "Come on!" I hear her yell, "Matthew's here!" I realize I'm holding my breath. It is as though she's played this moment so many times, but he was always just a figment of her imagination.

This day, though. This day he has come.

They bubble. All of them extroverted and clamoring for his attention. He is the audience they have waited for all these years.

There are hugs and introductions. The littlest one, no doubt the most confused by all of this, is enamored and spends the better part of two days touching him. Holding his hand. Kissing his face. Glued to his side. Matthew slides into the role of big brother. I've seen it with Will. It's the role he was born to play. 

My boy has always hated germs. Slobbery kisses from five-year-old girls, forget about it. Unless it's his little sister. She is not a stranger. She is instantly his girl. 

He finds his family hilarious. I can tell by the soft chuckle he emits and the coy smile he employs when they say something funny. He is hilarious, too, and it seems to dawn on him that his silly sense of humor might run through the blood in his veins. He hears stories and sees pictures that make him smile.

At the end of the first day, we are both exhausted. He falls fast asleep while I'm in the shower. I crawl into bed next to him and place my hand on his soft cheek. I feel like the luckiest mom in the world--this amazing kid is asleep on the pillow next to mine. I'm processing things I didn't plan to process. Like the fact that when he says, "Mom," he means me and it makes me bristle a little. I feel like I've stolen the title and a part of me wants to sit down and really explain that I know how blessed I am that she allows me to use it. She is so easy on me and with me and she always has been. Whatever she has struggled through behind closed doors, I have been shown great grace and mercy and love. I stare at his face and I start to cry.

I can't decide if it's exhaustion or life or both.

The next day he makes more memories. Little Sister hangs on to him as though he'll disappear if she lets go. Big Sister asks me to promise to come back next summer and I swallow the lump in my throat. Because I cannot make promises even though I want to. For these siblings. For this mother. For this boy. But I have always said that in adoption we must take it one moment at a time. I cannot plan for 525,600 moments from now. Mama spins him in a circle and says she won't ever let him go. I can't possibly know the feeling. Biggest Sister hitches a ride from me to a friend's house and shares an extra five minutes with him. This doesn't surprise me at all. She's an adult now but I will always see the nine-year-old girl who wanted her unborn baby brother to have a golden retriever and a good life.

Our adopted children are their families. They look like them. They sound like them. They share character traits and blood. If they are born in the sea, they may leave and prosper and grow and change in remarkable and wonderful ways but, they will always carry with them the ocean's salt.

We fell right back into our life here when we returned. At nine, my son seems content to live in the world he's always known. This is, of course, a current peace that I will not take for granted. When an adult adoptee friend found out we were going to see Matthew's family, she said, "I promise you are...creating the strongest foundation of trust with him."

My hope is that he finds a way to thrive in the sage of the mountains or the sweetened orchards but that he always feels accepted as the savory salt of the sea.

Who Does This Child Belong To?

"We should not be asking who this child belongs to, but who belongs to this child." -James L. Gritter

I'll lay it out for you. Nice and honest. I felt defensive and threatened when I first started learning about open adoption. But this will be MY child. I will change this baby's diapers. I will kiss this child's boo-boos. I will rub this kid's back when the flu strikes and the vomit flows. I didn't really want to share. Somewhere along the way, someone told me that open adoption is biblical adoption and somewhere along the way I began to research the effects of open adoption on children and somewhere along the way, my views began to change.

But what would it look like?

Pictures and letters. 

It would look like pictures and letters because my child would need the comfort and stability of knowing that we are his family.

Right?

You see, I hadn't met my child yet. And I hadn't met his mother.

Every circumstance within adoption is unique. Some children are taken by the state for reasons. Some parents are absolutely incapable of raising their kids. Sometimes there is abuse and it is not in the best interest of the child to see his parents. I know this. I am so thankful that isn't Matthew's story but I know it's the story of countless children.

Perhaps, in those situations, open adoption does look like pictures and letters only. And that's okay. But what's vital, for our children, is that we do not shame their first family. For in shaming the family, we inadvertently shame the child. In refusing to talk about the first family, we silence the child. In failing to discuss adoption openly and honestly, we express to our child that their past cannot be a part of their future--that it is to be forgotten. In waiting to tell our children about adoption at all, we suggest that it is something of a secret. We turn our trust into a bomb waiting to detonate.

From the moment I laid eyes on my newborn son, I wanted the very best for him. I wanted what was best for him at one, four, five, nine years of age but I wanted to make every decision based on what was best for him at eighteen, twenty, thirty years old as well. If I can make a decision now that will help him to create positive relationships with his family when he's an adult then I'm going to do it. People have asked me if it's hard. People have told me that they could never "share" their child. I'm sure it is nothing less than the Spirit in me--guiding me, convicting me, growing me, sanctifying me--but I can't imagine not sharing my child. I believe, simply, that it is impossible to be loved too much. Why would I deny my child more love? From the woman who bore him, no less.

And so, when Matthew's mom called me up and invited us to his older sister's high school graduation, my heart screamed yes. He's been longing to meet them and this presented the perfect opportunity. There were hurdles to leap, schedules to arrange, bosses to ask for time off work, but I would have lassoed the moon to get him there.

Our two days were filled with family fun. I had thought that I would be in full time therapist mode as I helped Matthew through whatever this experience meant for him. Instead, he sailed through, in some ways, as though he'd always known them all. As for myself, I had to unpack a little more psychologically but it was absolutely worth it. Because whatever we have to wrestle with--as adoptee, as adoptive parent, as birth mother, as birth siblings--the smiles and the laughter, the memories and the stories influence it all.

I can tell you that no question and no feeling and no expression of that feeling is off limits for Matthew. Over the course of his life, there have been nights of hysterical tears and questions I can't answer and questions I try to answer. My friend, an adult adoptee, who was once the only seven-year-old I knew who'd been adopted, said, "No matter how young, adopted children experience a loss that every cell in their body experiences, even if mental cognition is too young to consciously grasp it yet."

I have always wanted to acknowledge the primal wound and the adoption related grief--to never force my child to be quiet or to process it like an adult would. I'm sure I'm screwing up on a daily basis, but I want to be a part of the solution and never a part of the problem. 

The school my children attend happens to be the school that employs me and happens to be a Leader in Me school. We use Dr. Covey's The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People to teach and inform our students. Habit #5 says, "Seek First to Understand, Then to be Understood." 

                      The essence of this habit is a temperament that favors curiosity,
                      open-mindedness, empathy, and patience--all rolled into one.
                      In order to really seek to understand, you cannot have already
                      judged a person or situation. You need to develop a desire to
                     understand--meaning a desire to see things from others' point
                     of view, to see their reasons, and feel what they feel. --Mike Strum

The children who have come to me through adoption need to know that my shoulders are broad enough to hold their pain. They need to understand that I am mature enough to put their insecurity before my own. They need to believe that I am confident enough to handle their emotion without making it about me. They need to know that I will seek to understand them before I insist on being understood.

I am an advocate for adoption and for adoption reform. That means that I will honor their first family's place in their lives. I wish that more adoptive parents understood that sharing the title of mother and father with another--in whatever way that manifests itself within their unique situation--is not a threat. It is absolutely vital for our children.

I want to reiterate that this looks different in every situation. It will look different for my two-year-old than it does for my nine-year-old. Some birth parents will desire distance and some will long for closeness. Some adoptees will push for connectedness while others push against it. Some birth parents have made egregious mistakes from which there is no turning back. Some have made choices due to circumstance and situation and they will learn and grow and change. We must understand that adoption is like the ocean, ebbing and flowing, twisting and turning. It is new every morning. The adoptive parents must adjust and process and accept that the only way to navigate this is to be willing to listen, to understand, and to take each moment at a time.

Open adoption is not what I thought it was. Praise God. It is not the threat to my family that I once imagined. It is his shy smirk when she tells him he ferociously kicked her morning, noon, and night in the womb. It is his birth mother giving him the things that I cannot. It is me giving him what she cannot. In truth, it is the beautiful white flash of the identical smiles of my son and his mother. And it is the mess of the life we all live and the child we all love.

Interview on Behalf of a Two Year Old

I interview each of my kids on their birthdays and keep record of that here on my blog. Will, while a grand talker, isn't quite communicative enough to answer interview questions although I have high hopes for next year. So this is not actually an interview. It's just me filling in the blanks for him. Here goes nothing.

1. What is your favorite T.V. Show? Daniel Tiger. Although he now thoroughly enjoys Peppa Pig and Paw Patrol.

2. What did you have for breakfast? Yogurt. (In case I'm reading this later in life and wondering why I only gave my toddler son yogurt, he has a sore throat. The remnant of an icky virus.)
3. What do you want to name your future son? He'll probably follow recent horrible naming trends and do something like Jagger or Basil.
4. Favorite Food? Pizza and blueberries.
5. What food do you dislike? Avocado. Anything he simply doesn't feel like eating at the time.
6. What is your favorite color? I have no idea.
7. Favorite lunch? He likes PB&J usually.
8. What is your favorite thing to do? Undo whatever we've just done. Also, baseball is a pretty intense obsession.
9. If you could go anywhere in the world on vacation, where would it be? Anywhere with his family, I'm sure.
10. Favorite sport? Baseball.
11. What do you want to name your future daughter? See #3. Probably McKindrie. Or Basil. I feel like Basil works (read: DOES NOT WORK) for a boy or a girl.
12. Are you a morning person or a night person? Morning.
13. Pets? Tessie. Hamilton. Ollie. And currently a golden retriever puppy who hasn't gone to her new home yet.
14. Any new and exciting news you'd like to share with us? He talk talk talks all the time.
15. What do you want to be when you grow up? A baseball player.
16. What is your favorite candy? ALL OF THEM. But he really enjoys M&Ms and Skittles.
17. Where is the farthest place you've ever been from home? Phoenix, I think.
18. What is your favorite book? It changes often. Currently, it's probably a book about a helicopter.
19. What are you most proud of? Learning new things every day.
20. What is your favorite movie? He does not even remotely have the attention span involved in movie watching.
21. Which came first, the chicken or the egg? He doesn't care. I'm just glad I can finally get him to eat the occasional bite of egg.

And, for fun, the questions that James Lipton asks at the end of Inside the Actor's Studio.

1. What is your favorite word? NO! I mean, it must be. He says it 82,000 times a day.
2. What is your least favorite word? No. (If it's being said to him.)
3. What turns you on? (I rephrased with, "What do you like?") Baseball and Daniel Tiger
4. What turns you off? (I rephrased with, "What don't you like?") Having to go to bed before everyone else.
5. What sound or noise do you love? Music.
6. What sound or noise do you hate? His parents when we are disciplining him.

7. What is your favorite curse word? Well, I mean, he says a certain one A LOT when he is attempting to say Fork.
8. What profession other than your own would you like to attempt? Baseball player or Lead Singer in the Band.
9. What profession would you not like to do? Anything where he'd have to sit still.

10. If Heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates? (I omitted the "If Heaven exists" part)? On behalf of my child, I hope that he leads a life worthy of the response, "Well done, my good and faithful servant."

On Your Second Birthday

Dear Will,

I don't know why I find it surprising that time flies when you're raising kids. Your brother is already nearly two thirds of the way to 18 so the fact that you are two should come as no earthly surprise. But it kind of still feels like that moment when the very first picture I'd ever seen of you came flashing onto my cell phone screen.

My goodness, I was instantly in love. I am and will always be so thankful that your mom chose us--out of all the families--to be yours. You are perpetual motion and everlasting energy. You're busy. You're crazy. You're a handful and a half. But in all the chasing and wrangling and "no" yelling and time outing, you bounce through life--this little extroverted, outgoing, friendly ball of joy. Your smile and giggle are infectious. Your hugs, tender and heartfelt. Your curls, perfect. I love every inch of you so very much.

You are so tiny but intensely mighty. There really isn't an ounce of fat on your skinny-highest-metabolism-ever body. Yet, there is a fierceness to the way you live your live. On fire with an energy that cannot be contained.

You talk SO MUCH BETTER than either of your brothers did at two. I just didn't even know boys could be this verbal this early. I know that's a gross generalization and stereotype but honestly. I just didn't know a not-even-two-year-old could look at me and say, "Mommy, my mouf* hurt." Like. What? How are you basically fully communicating with me at two?

I exaggerate. I can actually only understand about a third of what you say. But, as soon as those other two thirds become clear, you'll have full command of the English language. It's adorable. Your little voice is, quite simply, the world's cutest thing.

Baseball. My goodness, kid. You're obsessed. You spend all of your brothers' games trying to steal equipment so that you can swing bats, wear batting helmets, throw balls, and wear gloves. You LOVE to run the bases which basically means that you swing the bat, drop the bat, and run a series of quick circles wherever you're standing. You will straight up sit on the couch and watch A GOOD AMOUNT of a baseball game which is astounding given your short attention span and the fact that, only very recently did you start to watch any television at all.

Really. As for movies, there's no way you'll sit still long enough to watch an entire movie. I think we got through the first five minutes of Cars before you abandoned it. Ever so thankfully (to my own sanity and because I'm never in the running for mama of the year) you have finally started watching Daniel Tiger, Peppa Pig, and Paw Patrol. 

You sleep SO well. I recently took away your beloved pacifier, telling you that they're for babies and you're a big boy. You cried for all of fifteen minutes total and that was that. Bye bye, Paci. Even without it, you sleep from about 7:30-7:00 and you nap for 2-3 hours. I don't know why I complain about your ability to climb the walls during your waking hours. I'd climb them too if I was sleeping roughly 14 hours out of every day. But boy howdy kiddo do I ever need those 14 hours because you are actually like a pinball when you're awake--darting from here to there and everywhere.

I love you so much. I love the laughter and joy you bring to our family with your excited spirit. I love how you say hi to everyone and wave to everyone and believe that everyone is your very best friend. You are so incredibly amazing. I thank God for you. I thank Him for showing me that, "Weeping may tarry for the night, but joy comes with the morning." Thank you for being YOU. Crazy, amazing, wonderful, you.

Love,

Mom

*Mouth.