April 22, 2008

As you may know, I am a mother.  I did not take on this role by accident, or by default, but by clear and conscious design. I am, by all accounts, not a mother-hen type by nature. Nevertheless, I was completely consumed with procreation. And in the end, it was sort of a joke, since procreation was always just out of reach. Beginning at the age of 18 (as a newlywed) I was encouraged to “start thinking about children” because my health was clearly not lending itself to delayed gestation. So, at the tender age of 19, I jumped into the land of thermometers and pregnancy tests, followed by ultrasounds and blood tests, until finally, five years later, I lay myself at the mercy of fertility specialists that ultimately, after years and years of trying, were able to reward all of my efforts with a child.

And as I looked at my newborn, all worries of having any future children left my mind. Who cared about that? I had this gorgeous baby and he was MINE! Life was a whirl of activity, a constant hum of events, moving, growing, changing, learning. A few years later, as things settled down, we began to discuss the idea, the possibility of having another. And with a heavy heart, I once again entered the familiar routine of needles and tests and thermometers and cyclical disappointment.

I reached my breaking point much sooner this time. It just wasn’t working. I was 29 years old and ready to pack it in and embrace the parenthood I had been blessed with. I didn’t want to while away my son’s childhood trying for another child, nor did I want to spend his college fund on fertility treatments or adoption. But still... I was not able to let go completely. Something was missing; I just couldn’t put my finger on it. While my son was in nursery school, I would find myself standing outside the spare bedroom that I had dreamed would be a nursery again. I didn’t have the heart to take down the crib.  And the rocking chair seemed very empty.

And so, my husband and I became foster parents. We had so much love, and we wanted to do something positive. After six weeks of training, we proudly received our license, and shortly after that, our first placement.  Over the years, we have had a number of children join our family, for days, weeks, and months at a time. And our friends and family embraced each of these children with the same love they showed to our biological child, rushing over to meet them, sending birthday and Christmas gifts, inviting them to parties, handing down clothes and toys during frantic hours that always followed the call that a new placement was on the way.

And then, suddenly, improbably, an honest to goodness miracle happened.

Through a series of phone calls, over the course of a few months, culminating in a frantic morning rush-hour drive to the hospital, we became the proud parents of a baby girl. She was strong and beautiful, and once again, we found ourselves sitting in the maternity ward, stunned at our good fortune. Our son was driven down from Kula and we were a family, in the little room behind the nurse’s station at Maui Memorial. For two days, we basked in the glow of this newest member of our family. Phone calls and flowers and gifts arrived around the clock. My friends threw together a baby shower, and we gleefully passed around all sorts of pink, frilly outfits, and tiny bikinis, and even a faux fur pony print diaper cover. Several friends made things by hand, and the girls who couldn’t be at the shower had the gifts delivered – everyone wanted to share in the joy of this incredible gift. The adoption proceeded quickly and smoothly, and within a few months everything was official. We were a family of four.

A few years passed before we were ready to be foster parents again. First we had a newborn, then we moved to a much smaller house, which we promptly began to renovate... and so it was only recently that we were able to begin welcoming children into our home. And at about the same time, I was asked to join the board of a foundation that is dedicated to helping foster and adoptive families in Maui County connect with service providers who can assist them with the many details and expenses that come with adding children to your home unexpectedly. It is a way for me to give back to a community that has given me more than words can properly express. In between carpools and play dates, I make phone calls and pass out posters for the foundation. We don’t have a foster child placed with us right now, but that crib is still in the attic, and I am not planning to give it away. I know all too well that you just never know where life will take you, and what marvelous surprise may be just around the corner.

Also just around the corner – Mother’s Day. This is a friendly reminder to partners and children everywhere: now is the time to make a plan. Celebrate the mothers in your life and in the world around you.  Hold open a door, carry a bag of groceries, help to usher a mother with her brood across the street a la “Make Way for Ducklings.”

There are many ways that you can make a difference to a mother on Mother’s Day. A smile will convey a thousand words. I speak from experience, as the smiles of my children make every day Mother’s Day. Also, May is National Foster Parenting Month.

If you are interested in becoming a foster parent, please contact Hui Ho‘omalu at 808-268-5122 or email hui@pidfoundation.org. To get involved in the Keiki Kokua Foundation, or if you are a foster or adoptive family looking for information or support, please call 808-573-4972 or go to www.keikikokua.org.

Vanessa Ghantous