Swimming to My Mother

Swimming to my mother in a blue lake, laughing. My body is so small and wiggles around. Could I be a fish? No telling what I look like. No mirrors in this place. I do not know how I got here at all. Is this my mother? The two of us float around the blue waves, dipping up and down. So much like sea creatures, we swim around in circles. Green weeds peek up though the water’s edge. I am being tickled by the fish that pass by me. The light on the lake twinkles in the beautiful warm water. It is breathtaking, yet I do not have to breathe. I've made many trips around the blue warm water. She is next to me all of the time, guiding me around. Sometimes, I break away, splashing my body through the lake like a great exploration game.

Gazing up into the sun and at night, the moon, time inside is still a safe place. Could I stay here swimming forever? Mother is so kind to guide me through the rough spots. I nuzzle into her as we swim. Loops of time seem never ending. No before or after thoughts. Love, joy is never fleeting inside the flow we share. The heartbeat brings me closer to my questions. I wonder who I am, who I was? What am I doing here, where am I going? My soul bobs up and down in the warm water. I know I am safe. Sounds of silence, then a voice sings through the water. Hums a pleasant tune that I’ve heard so many times in my head. A silhouette appears beside me on the water's edge. A song tells me that I am deeply loved and wanted. Such wonder in the laughter that matches mine, a laughter that joins a chorus of sound memories flooding my entire genetic code. Waves of resonance pumping around me taking form. A voice guiding me out into the world to meet my mom.

Parents: do we pick them before we are born? Do parents pick us? Are lessons learned while inside a womb dark, deep secrets of the waters?

Mother and I swim back and forth on calm days. There is so much to learn about the water. There is a soft voice teaching me that this lake is a happy, warm place. With clouds of blue light all around me, I float along with her and know peace.

Suddenly, sounds of doctors surround us saying I am trapped. My mother cries a silent cry. I feel like I am stuck inside with no way to move, no way to go anywhere. I want outside! Warm water surrounds me and I can hear new sounds, see new things. I have legs, arms, a body and yet no way to move. Am I tangled up in something too hard to get out of? Thrusting and hoping for some way to reach a spot where I could wiggle, I forget how to move. I am standing with my arms and legs wrapped around an object. What would it be called if it was inside where I am? Will I ever move again? I think of many scenarios. Could someone please get me out of here? All the water is leaving. This is not fun. I can't see where I am or where I am going. Get me out right now! I need to move my body and scream!

Bright lights flood into my eyes. Voices are all around me, urgent, insistent. There is more movement now. I smell new smells. Where was I? Where am I? The blue lake is gone! What happened to all of that warm water. The place where I learned to play and sing is fading away. I am in a world full of bright white, shiny equipment. Lights and more lights, cold and bright. No sunshine, no moon.

My body shakes. I turn my head at the sound of a familiar tone. There it is, that voice that I have been hearing for so long. I wonder inside of my soul as my eyes open and close. I cry out. She reaches out her arms above the tent that is covering her body. She holds me close and sings to me. Close to her chest, I rest. Her hands begin to glide over my body. She starts to hum a song to me, intimate, calming, soft as water.

Her fingers count my fingers and toes. Smiling with her eyes, she begins to kiss me as she holds me closer. She knew all along that we would need this moment. This is a special time to learn from each other. I see her eyes and I smile; they are blue like the sky above the lake. I curl my hand around her finger. I pull a lock of her hair with my other hand. She starts to feed me so I will learn to eat. She cuddles me so I will learn to love. She sings to me so I will find comfort in sleep. People take photographs of us and say we have the same eyes and smile. Both of us will hold that memory like it was a treasure. These first moments are sacred. This sacrifice of her body changing, giving me life. No words for now can describe the gift.

When I was inside growing, we shared the dream of the lake. The time we spent together gave us both the courage to keep dreaming. Now, I am born from this dream into a story no less marvelous. This moment is truly amazing.

As she holds me, I watch her lips move. How soft her voice sounds as she traces my ears with her graceful fingers. I want to stay wrapped in this moment in time. Truly, she lived these months to give me life, this precious little one wiggling closer to her.

She lifts me up higher and takes a good, long look at me.

Can I stop time and reflect on this longer?

She speaks and I hear her say, “meet your mother.”

Another pair of arms takes me, holds me and loves me.

I am meeting my adopted mother for the first time.