You know how annoying parents can be when they get talking about their kids and about how their whole life has changed because of them, that all of a sudden they understand their own parents, and Life all of a sudden has sense and a meaning. Those people and those talks used to annoy the shit out of me and if you are anything like I used to be, better stop reading now cause here comes a glowing report from the other side, from the converted Mommy.
I was never big on children, found their presence annoying and threatening. Having been exposed to their innocent cruelty in my early childhood I was convinced that all kids were mean. Born a Korean orphan I was one of the few fortunate children from the orphanage that were chosen for adoption, so I had the great fortune of growing up in the warm socialist bosom of Sweden in the seventies. At that time immigration was a novelty concept and I was one of very few children not having blue eyes and wheat colored hair. That would probably not have have mattered much had I not been such a scared insecure child. I entered the world of kindergarten at the age of three after spending the first couple of years in the sweet care of our neighbour while my parents were at work. Since most families in Sweden leave their child in Kindergarten from when the kids are 1 1/2, I was a late arrival in an already complex but set social structure. I never really found my place there, I was too boyish for the girls, and too girlish for the boys and that oddity made my first 7 years of life quite lonely. I wasn't exactly bullied, but I was overlooked, ignored and spent most of my kindergarten days tucked in a safe corner playing by myself and later, when I found the sweet escape of reading, with my nose in a book. I was terrified of the other kids, that they would see me, that they wouldn't see me and that if they made any sort of contact, they would point out the obvious, that I with my black hair and weird slanted eyes just didn't belong there.
So children to me meant trauma and fear and I told my parents to never expect grandkids cause I was very sure that I would never pop one out. But life changes and I did through the years aquire some new perspectives that transformed that firm NO to a never say never. And then of course, I met Igor.
One of the qualities that I love and admire about Igor, is how great he is with children, with how much respect he treats them and how much he enjoys playing with them. During that first trip when we met, he was constantly playing and joking with the Indian kids and I think I secretly decided that I wanted him to be the father of my offspring before it was actually clear that we were to be a lasting item. A few years later I started to feel the biological clock. Up until then I seriously doubted that this clock thing was real, had up until 30 not felt a thing and I started to wonder if it was not just something dreamt up by the male establishment to lure women to household slavery. Boy was I wrong. The clock was real and after a few years of steady ticking Iomi was born.
Through her birth a lot of my so far unexplored issues with my unknown birthmother came to surface. I had a very difficult process that resulted in an acute cesarian and when I finally got this beautiful, blood covered baby on top of my chest both me and Igor were worn out after 48 hours without sleep and from pain. My pain coming from the obvious, Igor's from the sheer strength of my hand squeezing.
Sometimes exhaustion can be a great catalyst for bringing forth our hidden corners and a reveal what lies deep at the source. It kind of renders us defenseless.
In the midst of this profound sense of new and awe came a feeling of compassion and forgiveness for the woman that had given birth to me. I understood that no matter how inconvenient the pregnancy and it's circumstance, to give a child up must be one of the hardest things to do. And even though I didn't know that that particular brand of hurt had existed in me, it's presence was instantly felt and forgiven and I cried for my birth mothers loss. I don't know if I will ever know who she was/is and don't actually think I am that interested, but I have acknowledged her. And I have felt her.
Thank you for my life whoever You were or are.

Today Iomi is 7 almost 8. A beautiful sweet girl, very bright and a delight to be with. She seems truly happy which brings some of my performance anxiety as a mommy to rest. She has lived in 3 countries, speaks 4 languages, climbs like a monkey and knows she is truly loved. In the olden destructive days I would have said that I would die for her. Now I'm determined to live for her. To see her grow and to seriously live up to my role as The First Example, and share with her my joy and tears. My favourite moment of the day is when I put her to sleep and hold her face close to mine, breathe her breath and tell her that I love her most. She is one of my greatest teachers, she has granted me the experience of unconditional love. So here's to you Iomi Li my sweet darling daughter. May you live with a song in your heart, a spirit that soars and with love at every corner of your life. May you be happy.


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