Friday, September 21, 2007

motherly love


It’s a strange experience being described in such glowing terms; like having a gilt frame put around us.

Everyone had said ‘Of course you will get the agreement. You’ll be wonderful parents!’ Nevertheless, the doubts creep in as one peels away the layers merely to find imperfections and a willingness to plunge into the unknown. Sometimes, especially with the psychologist, the house felt sorely unfinished, the childhood role models inadequate, the amount of therapy not enough, the choices foolish and the boho life too chaotic.

However, as we read through our social worker’s description of us - of our family histories and the warmth and wisdom we have gained from them; of our passions and our travels; of the place where we have chosen to make our home; of our journey towards each other and above all towards becoming a family – we were both a little choked up. She had woven a tapestry of light and love, of maturity and wholeness, of art and music, and placed it like an offering at the foot of the magnificent Mont Ventoux. This tapestry, fashioned, it seemed to me, in quince and golden threads of ‘lumière’ and ‘chaleur’, is what will be presented to the authorities in Mali or Togo who will decide whether or not we are the people into whose arms they want to place an orphaned baby. As I looked at our wonderful Madame Bergère through my teardrops I noticed a line of little freckles following the contour of her cornflower eyes, just above the line of her glasses, and was overwhelmed with love for her. Our midwife, I thought.

“Is there anything else you would like to add?” the psy asked us at the end of each of our rather gruelling sessions. We both stood up proud in our hearts, me at ten o’clock and Julian at eleven, and stated how happy we were in our life togetther, and how ready we felt to have a family.

We have the thumbs up and an ‘avis favorable’ from both, apparently. This, unofficially, means we will have our agreement next month.

There is a love that, I suspect, is like no other. I have shut it away because feeling it has, up till now (with a brief exception six years ago), been to feel impotent and broken. This love is starting to stir in my breast like a mouth opening and taking little gulps of air ….


Blogger granny p said...

This is GOOD. And quite right too. Sounds like your social workers had their priorities in the proper order.Lucky child.

7:17 PM  
Anonymous elaine k bond said...

Beautiful...Fantastic...I'm so happy for both of you!

7:28 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

You may not see yourself like that - but we do.

I wish you all the very best on your journey, and can only echo granny p.


7:30 PM  
Anonymous Jean said...

Oh Ruth. All my warmest best wishes for the journey to come, and thanks for sharing this so beautifully.

7:32 PM  
Anonymous Pica said...

What Jan said. So very very wonderful to hear this.

7:54 PM  
Blogger Kaycie said...

If you parent at all like you write, your child will be exceedingly lucky and happy. Your descriptions of your life and your home sound safe and warm and stimulating for any child.

Good luck to you.

10:29 PM  
Blogger MB said...

Ruth, it's a marvelous post. And I am very happy for you! I wish you the very best on this continuing adventure!

10:53 PM  
Blogger ezappy said...

We thought it would be tough and it was but you have charmed the gods and all is well We are absolutely thrilled fantastic!
love Steve

11:13 PM  
Blogger Peter (the other) said...

Here in California, I HATE PARENTS!!! L.A. is a place where the little, spoiled, undisciplined, biological ego manifestations represent the most greedy aspect of humanity. Then the parents have the nerve to whine and complain about the cost, as they load the tots into the brand new Range Rover ( driven by a 4 foot 2 inch, brave illegal immigrant, whose own children are suffering at home), to be driven to fencing, tennis, music, swimming, ski lessons, their billion dollar private schools, and "play dates". “Nothing but the best for my little Fluffy and Buffy”.

You two humans, whose natural insecurity drives the creation of beautiful paintings, words and music (and I suspect meals) that resonating in the hearts of others, creates such comfort from the hope of shared sensibilities and experience, must be better then these I see around me, or I’m a monkey’s uncle! No one escapes childhood unscarred, but I would prefer the scars inflicted by such as you (as I like to think my parents were).

The fact that you are not adding to the world’s glut, but instead helping a poor abandoned soul, makes it even more beautiful. Some where in Africa, right now, is an extremely lucky young creature, coming back the other way towards you. I could not wish a better future, then I do your budding trio.

11:38 PM  
Blogger Sarah Mackenzie said...

This is absolutely wonderful. Fantastic. I can imagine a little kid running wild and laughing in your paradise. I am so happy for you both!

8:01 AM  
Blogger ruth said...

wow thanks everyone! especially our family! this is all a bit overwhelming...

of course this is only the beginning. it may be six months, it may be two years before we get a child. it will demand alot of paperwork and even more patience.

8:42 AM  
Blogger Maricello said...

Best wishes! We went through the same process 19 and 22 years ago and were rewarded with two wonderful children. At the time, though, I might not have written such beautiful sentiments as yours. I might have written, instead, why must we be subjected to all this questioning and review? Adoption is not an easy process, but with your generous attitudes, it should go a little more smoothly for you. It is worth the agony.

6:31 PM  
Anonymous Julia said...

Dear Ruth and Julian, this is really wonderful news and I know you will both make the little person who is yet to arrive, VERY happy. Personally, I constantly question my worthiness as a mother, I think that's just part of the schtick. Then I tell myself that admitting when I am wrong and showing imperfection is a great gift in itself. You are right it may be a long time till you are all togther,so in the meantime, make wonderful art, breathe and eat that really stinky goat cheese wrapped in leaves as much as you can before your child tells you your breath smells! tee hee

Love Julia

12:55 AM  
Blogger Dale said...

Oh, Ruth. All the blessings. "Therefore all seasons shall be sweet to thee..."

1:51 AM  
Blogger Le Couvent - said...

Hi Ruth - I used to live next door to you in Sussex Square. I too now live in France and I follow your blog frequently. I'm absolutely thrilled to bits for you and so glad the authorities can see what a good woman you are. I haven't met Julian but you have excellent taste, so I'm sure he'll be a great father. Good luck to you both. Lizzie

12:19 PM  
Anonymous mig said...

it's a good journey, ruth. and it's gratifying to see the social worker got it right. good luck to you and julian.

5:09 AM  
Anonymous asdis said...

Ruthie... It's like you are just realizing you're pregnant- Love you, Ásd.

8:54 AM  
Anonymous Jenna said...

I wonder which will come first, the child or the terrace! Just a note of humor, but really, fantastic news. As a big fan of your blog, I can't wait to read your thoughts on motherhood.

2:11 AM  
Blogger Mireille said...

Quelle belle et grande nouvelle Ruth, je suis très heureuse pour toi et Julian...c'est formidable et je vous souhaite plein de bonheurs à venir avec ce petit enfant...
Je suis aussi très impressionnée et admirative de votre courage à vivre toutes ces épreuves et à les surpasser
à très bientôt, Ruth

10:33 AM  
Blogger Gem said...

oh my how fantastic! so happy for you both. we look forward to meeting our new cousin, Gem and Clive xxx

10:24 PM  

Post a Comment

<< Home