When I was only a few years old, we spent Christmas in Spring Hill, FL with my maternal grandparents. By that time, I understood that Christmas was even more special to my parents, because they had brought me home to Texas in December 1985. That Christmas was the first time I met my maternal grandparents. My grandmother and I had a particularly solid bond immediately, documented by a roll of film that captured me -frame by frame- staring curiously up into her smitten eyes before grasping her glasses in my chubby hand and yanking them from her face.
It was that Christmas that I became the third generation of women on the Scott-Grabowski side. The only grandchild.
Several Christmases later, when we were all together in Spring Hill, FL, I copied a poem about moms on drawing paper. I decorated words that stood out to me or that were easy to illustrate. Hearts for love, suns for smiles. I rolled the paper up like a scroll and placed it under the tree with a tag on it that said, “For Mommy.”
There are two mothers in my life. One mother I will always have in my heart, but she will never be “mom” to me. The title “mom,” and all the hope, love and strength that goes along with that title, belongs to only one woman. But to them both, I will be forever thankful.
Legacy of Two Mothers
Once there were two women who never knew each other.
One, my darling, is your birthmom and the other is your mother.
Two different lives, shaped to make yours one.
One became your guiding star; the other became your sun.
The first gave you life, and the second taught you to live it
The first gave you a need for love, and the second was there to give it.
One gave you a nationality; the other gave you a name.
One gave you the seed of talent, the other gave you aim.
One gave you emotions; the other calmed your fears.
One saw your first sweet smile; the other dried your tears.
One chose adoption. It was all that she could do.
The other prayed for a child, and God led her straight to you.
And now you ask me through your tears,
The age-old question through the years.
Heredity or environment, which are you the product of?
Neither, my darling, neither. Just two different kinds of love