I want to be the warmth of this sunrise for my family.

We have a sign around here for “I love you.” My daughter made it up without intending to many years ago, when she still slept in a crib. She was lying awake in bed looking up at me. Her little hand was curled next to her face. “I love you,” I said to her, and tapped my own curled hand to my cheek.

Almost 11 years later it’s our way of saying I love you to each other – all of us – from across a room. And now my toddler does it too, it’s his way of responding when I tell him, “I love you.”


This is where I want to share what it means for me to be a mother. This is where those little stories – and some big stories – will go. This is where I tell you about the 9 year age difference between my children and how that came to be. This is where I tell you I’ve been pregnant 5 times and have one living biological child and one child who came into my heart through adoption. This is where I tell you how important a responsibility I know it is to be raising a black child in our society today, especially as a white parent. This is where I tell you about the one who came and went too soon, the one who stayed just long enough to teach me the meaning of unconditional love. This is where I tell you that it’s not always easy to get pregnant and stay pregnant.

This is where I tell you that, while this is not how I imagined it would go when I dreamed of having a family, it is the only family I could ever, ever ask for.


The Day We Met, March 12, 2015

Almost, February 17, 2015

My Mother, My Self, February 5, 2015

Essence, January 23, 2015

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