08/07/2026
Over the course of 8 years of being his “mom,” he has called me Umma. My Mommy. My Foster Mom. My Guardian.
Today, at 13, two years after reunifying with his biological mom, I am “Mrs. Irene.”
No name ever felt just right. Every single one so bittersweet. We were all just trying to put words to what was needed at the time. It was imperfect. Chaotic. So confusing at times. But now seeing how it all turned out, the names really didn’t matter. He had what he needed at the time; he has what he needs now.
Now he has grown so much that he can hold me in his arms the way I once held him. 🥲 And I am grateful I still get to watch him grow.
Happy belated to the young man who made me a mother in a whole new way. ❤️
The birth of a child and their mother comes in so many forms. We honor all the beautifully unique paths.