The Joys of Mamahood

These two little ones are like magnets. They cannot be apart from each other too long. They fight, argue, and then have to crawl up next to each other. Their beginnings weren’t easy. Kali Rose, was my daughter’s first born. My ex and I took her in when she was only 5 months old. My daughter came into my life from Romania when she was 9 years old. She is mentally unable to take care of herself, let alone a child. Luke was her second child. He is 3 years younger than Kali Rose.

It took us four years to finalize his adoption. He was with his bio-mom for 10 months of his life. It was not a pretty or easy story… one that I can’t share without my heart breaking into tiny pieces. He is healthy and happy and one of the most forgiving souls I’ve ever encountered in my life.

My daughter has had two other babies who are now loved by forever-adopted families.

I may know a little bit about being a mother… of 8 kiddos. I have learned that patience is the essence of relating to our children. That humor can change a room full of kids. That love is the bare necessities of their development. And, that somedays are hard and full of challenges and things can shift in a minute. All of it passes in the blink of an eye.

I don’t know if I am a good mother or not. It’s not for me to decide. Some of my kids will say I am. Others, not so much. And we all have our stories.

I have been brought into this world to mother, not just my children, but myself and others. It’s in the past few years that I have learned to mother me in places that I neglected.

I miss my mother on holidays like today. She was a hard woman, and she was soft. She was courageous, and she was fearless. She taught me the things I wouldn’t do to my children from what she did to me. My mother was a warrior and an incredible powerful example of strength in my life. There was an unstoppable force in her that dictated everything and everyone around her. Her perseverance was definitely passed onto my genes. When I began to adopt children she was not happy to say the least. She judged my choices terribly. And, as most people who cannot accept their own choices, she lashed out at every decision I made with my children. However, she did love them in her own way.

Mothering my kiddos has been the most challenging and rewarding experiences of my life. Even on the days that I am exhausted, hurt, and have no clue what to do, I find myself laughing and crying simultaneously.

What makes a mother a good one?

Your ability to transcend all the hardships and turn them into lessons. Your ability to forget quickly and forgive deeply. Letting go is the secret to this profession. If you hold on too tight you lose your grip.

I used to compare myself to the perfect PTA mothers at their school when my children were little. I could barely get all six out of the house and when I would drop them off at school I would judge myself based on how the mothers all looked. My kids were dressed, clean but sometimes (okay maybe a lot) disheveled. They were loved deeply. They knew it and felt it.

Today, on Mother’s Day, I hope you remember to mother YOU. Recall those moments you thought would last forever and you made it. You have done your job. I also want to honor those who aren’t mothers of little people but animals. Others who have chosen to mother the world with their love and presence. I believe there are fathers out there mothering the hell out of their children alone. My hat goes off to all of you. Every single person in this world has the ability to mother the world.

I love you… love yourself with the same fierce intensity you give to others, including your children.

Millie

The pics below are from our day exploring yesterday:

Living through Principle


The word “integrity” has been the theme for the last few weeks. Integrity is what makes you righteous, whole, and truthful. It’s an important word. How many of us say one thing and do the complete opposite? That’s an example of not living through integrity. 

I have been witnessing the need to clear things up through my truth and moral beliefs. I am purging, not just clutter in the home but past issues, old paradigms, and relationships that are not in alignment with my honor. At times, I am shocked that it’s still taking me so long to understand these life experiences and why I must continue to evolve and not stay stuff in the old patterns. We are growing and shifting and expanding at such a high rate of consciousness.

I am questioning more… other’s intentions around me. Whereas before, my airy fairy attitude allowed everything and anyone to just come into my vortex. I am not as trusting. And that is okay because I am accepting humanity on a higher level of energetic exchanges.

Do not tell me who you are. Show me through your actions. Do not promise me something that you know very well you won’t follow through with. Just be you. Be the WHOLENESS of your essence without pretending, compromising your word, or breaking your authentic nature. That’s all! 

I remember about six years ago witnessing my little girl. She was about 20 months then. One morning she showed me her wholeness and value. I heard her in her room so I opened the door catching her sitting on her bed. She extended an arm way out and said, “Nooooo. No, Mama….no!” I stepped back and realized she needed more time to herself. I walked out and closed the door. Ten to fifteen minutes later she called for me and we began our morning. She was in all her truth and knowing that I would understand. I completely honor this in its simplest form. She didn’t need me to get her up just because she was talking in there. She needed her time. She showed me that when she’s ready she will call me by name. Our perception and interpretations get in the way of how we value others and ourselves. She had not learned the distinction, therefore following her instincts and desires was all that was expected from her.   

No one is expecting perfection. No one wants what you cannot provide. Even a toddler will show you exactly who they are if you are willing to pay attention. Live within the means of what you believe and can accomplish. NO ONE or anything is worth the loss of your integrity. Sometimes it is like your virginity…once it’s gone there’s no getting it back. There is no trust or re-do button that can fix it. And, it starts from childhood. Standing your ground. Stand in your honor and worth.   

Live in the sweetest bubble of virtue. Navigate your life through the utmost level of principles. These are your beliefs. Let YOUR life be an example of who you are through love, laughter and actions! You know exactly what and who you are. If you don’t then you need to sit and contemplate for a while. If you don’t know how to find your wholeness, then how the heck can you expect another to do it for you? It’s time you recognize it in yourself. 

I love you,
Millie

The Power of Touch

My little boy was sick at school yesterday. He’s struggling with a stomach bug. Last night when I turned everything off to go to sleep, he got closer to me. He has to touch me as he sleeps. I can put a pillow between us and he finds the way to move the blankets and pillows to feel my warmth. I wanted him to scoot to the other side of the bed so he would feel better.

Luke: I need you next to me, mommy.

Me: Why do you need to sleep right on me?

Luke: Your touch makes me not have bad dreams.

I brought him closer. Rubbed his forehead. Kissed his head.

Me: Sweetheart, you are in the bed with me. You won’t have bad dreams.

Luke: Mommy, when I hold you, you make all bad nightmares go away quickly. When I am far from you, they get bad. Your energy fights the dreams. I only have happy dreams.

Luke will be five next week. For him to use the term “energy” is a testimony of how we communicate. In the middle of the night, he asked me to please give him angel healing. He calls reiki, Mommy’s angel healing. I did. He fell into a deep sleep around 2AM. Between the essential oils, the reiki, and the therapeutic touch, he woke feeling a bit better.

Touch is healing. We are both Aries. Our love language is touch. We need it. He thrives on feeling another through it. It always reminds me to be mindful of how I bring/show my energy into his world. He’s a little empath with an old soul… my baby Yoda.

The last few weeks I have written about your voice, listening, being acknowledged, and we can’t forget the power of touch in our lives.

Whether or not his body touching mine helps with his nightmares is true or not, it’s actually TRUE to him. He has created that reality in his life. During the day he doesn’t need it, but come nighttime he has to feel my body right by his. And there is something beautiful to be said about embracing those parts of our energetic bodies. We require the comfort of someone we love to soothe and smooth the rough edges, battle our fears, and make us feel loved. We want to be felt, acknowledged and love… always.

Touch is a nonverbal agreement between you and another. In loving ways, it is magical. It increases our oxytocin and other hormones that make us feel happy. We dive into the deep awareness of acceptance and love. We are united and connected by it.

Don’t be afraid to hug another. Hug tightly. I love you,

Millie


Let It Go!

When my eldest son was about 12 years old he admitted to me that he thought Prince (the singer) was his real dad. His dad left when he was 2-1/2 and for whatever reason he got it in his little head that Prince was his dad. My son’s name is Nelson. Prince’s last name was Nelson. So, he just presumed that I named him after Prince. His father’s name was Nelson.

The stories we tell ourselves, from early on, become stepping stones for our future. That anticipation of meeting his famous dad was something he carried for many years. I didn’t know this. But the other day, he shared (now at 32 years old) that a conversation I had with him when he was 14 changed his life. He said he had so much anger towards his real father and, at least when he thought he was famous, it was okay to not be around because he was touching the world in big ways through his music. But, when he realized that his real dad was just an irresponsible man who never took care of him and his brother, Nelson was angry for a long while.

Apparently one day, as he tells the story (I had a brain injury a year later so I don’t remember this), I pulled him out of school midday and took him to a park.He said I sat next to him and said to him, “Nelson, if you don’t let him go, he will always be ruling your future with expectations that he will never fulfill. If you want Prince to be your dad, then it’s a lovely fantasy. But, to hate someone you can’t be around and blame your behavior on his behavior is not fair to your soul. Your dad left and never looked back. DO you think he deserves all that attention?” He shared this and I began to cry because I can’t remember this conversation. He said that after that talk, he made a decision to let his real dad go. Also, he let the idea of Prince go too, lol. He even shared that some of Prince’s songs touched him deeply during that time.

If we don’t release the history, we can’t create healthy relationships with ourselves and others. We are truly amazing creatures, healing and expanding and learning and multidimensional.I hope you let the past go. It’s heavy. The emotional baggages need to be put down. Write a letter, burn it. Or just cut cords with whoever and whatever is no longer bringing you joy. I love you! ~m.a.p.

Mama Lessons

My little girl brought me a top portion of the purple irises. I said thank you but then told her to please not pull the flowers.

Her face when stoic and I saw her tears swell.

I failed. I felt it immediately.

See, to her she saw the flower and wanted her mama to hold the beauty. She knows how much I love purple. She saw me take the photos yesterday while I told her that the flower always makes me so happy.

So I kneeled to meet her eyes and I cried … along with her. I held her tightly. I apologized. I placed the flower on my ear and she smiled. I thanked her for thinking of me. I told her I appreciated that she brought the flower to me. I asked her how it looked with my grey hair and she said I looked delicious.

I then explained that my reaction was absolutely horrible. It was wrong of me to tell her not to cut the flower. She’s seen me bring flowers from the garden in the past.

And such is the fluidity of being human with so many imperfections. We came inside and I put the flower in water. I held her as we talked about the baby groundhogs and how the mama was protecting them. I told her I would always protect her as well. She was happy. For a few minutes I was broken because I hurt a little girl’s feelings. Cause you guess it… this mama is tired.

My children don’t sleep. Ever. They get a few hours and then they are up running around. My husband and I are living on fumes. In the middle of the day I am beyond cranky at times. But I will never ever again disregard a present from either of them. They are here safe today. All my children are on this planet alongside even from afar.

A friend lost her child last week. And when I saw her disappointment I immediately thought of her and how she will never get to hear from him or receive any kind of gifts.

I fail at this being human thingy a lot and lately it feels like it’s often. We are all on edge. But that iris today stopped me. Kali’s face taught me to take a moment and receive every single thing that she presents to me. It’s in those moments we recognize the human connection.

I honor her. The soul in me recognizes her soul. And that connection extends to every single one of us like a ripple in a lake moving outward. We feel it all. The hurt in me feels the hurt in others.

May you recognize when you make a mistake and take accountability. It is the only way we heal each other and ourselves.

Love. That’s all we got.

Love is What Saves Us

My son and I were working outside in the yard yesterday evening. He’s axing away at a tree. I’m clearing a heavily dense area into what will be a secret garden. I’m tired and sweaty.

The silence breaks with him, “Mom, you are doing an amazing job with my sister’s kids. You are raising them to be loving and healthy children.”

“Baby, where is this coming from?” I asked because it took me by surprise.

“You have to wait for them to go to bed in order to come out here and work on what you love to do which is nature. You sacrifice a little bit of you to help them survive. They are constant. They don’t give you a chance to breathe during the day (he giggles). I know this is not what you had in mind at this time of your life when we were all gone….”

I interrupt and stop pulling at the earth. Breathing heavily, I sit on the ground next to him feeling defeated. “Nelson, I truly don’t think I’m doing the best job for them or for me. Your sister was hard because of all her mental issues. They have so much of her running through their blood. I’m not the same woman I was then or have the same amount of energy….”

“You are better.” He stops clearing the tree and sits next to me, “You are giving them life. They would be dead with her. You and Matt have created a foundation and loving home. And you always say that love is all we need. They are a LOT. I admit that it’s overwhelming at times but they truly love you so much. They are smart and they are constantly challenging you and the world around them.”

He hugs me. I shed a few tears. Mostly of gratitude for recognition.

That was the pause needed to just finish for the day. It was getting dark. My body ached but I felt great to have done so much with his help in a couple of hours.

This second act at mothering children is different. It’s conscious parenting. It’s a lot harder than before. It’s also a lot easier than before. These children are thriving and I have zero expectations for them except that they feel loved. I’m trusting they continue to find the magic in the world and give love to it.

And that they are.

When my 31 year old recognizes the journey it does make it special. He’s been here five weeks…the longest time he’s spent with them. We spoke a bit more. He was kind and loving and full of insight. The adult in him acknowledges the adult in me.

Walking back to the house the earth seemed to sink us into it with gratitude for tending to her on Earth Day. At that moment I thanked the greatest mother of all…Gaia…and all the lessons she teaches me.

Sweet Love Story

Some love stories are heartbreaking. Others not so much.

Today is two years this baby boy has been in the foster care system. On Valentine’s Day of 2018 he was placed in a caring and loving foster care home. It would take another two months for us to find out where he was.

On the day my husband and I were flying to Peru the GAL in Florida contacted us. She sent pictures of him. He had just turned one a few days before. My husband and I created a new journey with him in our hearts. We were heartbroken and elated simultaneously.

When Luke was born I begged social services in Florida to not let my daughter take him home. She had already lost her first born whom we adopted. But they did nothing. Month after month I would call. They had my number but she kept moving to different counties and that was never followed up.

It’s easy to screw with the system. There is no national registry to inform different counties or states of prior child abuse.

I would text with my daughter asking how she was and how he was. Everything was “always fine.” Even on that Valentine’s Day I sent her a message since she wouldn’t speak to me on the phone.

A month later my deceased father came in a dream and told me that this baby boy was in foster care. I texted my daughter at 5am that day and asked when he was removed. She didn’t know how I knew. She told me he had been removed on Valentine’s. She was now pregnant with her third child.

And after we were finally in contact with Florida it would take another six months to get him into our care even though I am his grandmother and only next of kin.

This little boy was afraid of men. He was malnourished and had stomach issues. The foster family were angels with him. He couldn’t crawl or hold himself up. And today he doesn’t stop running. Today he is the funniest itty bitty comedian who adores everyone, especially my husband (his daddy).

My daughter (his mother) arrived into my life at the age of 9 from a horrible orphanage in Romania. She’s not a monster. She’s the victim of a broken system there. And all four of her children are victims of the system here that requires strong willed folks to fight it.

These are the love stories that are hard to share. These are the parts of humanity that we don’t often want to explore. And it’s okay because one day the system won’t be set up to protect the adult. It will be set up for the protection of the child who has parents that really cannot be parents no matter how many classes or therapy or whatever they finish within the time given to reunify with their kids. Some folks, due to mental disabilities or addiction or other circumstances, will never be able to care for their children. Yet, the law is set up to give them a chance and hope that will never happen.

How do we change it? It starts with creating new laws about the children. How does this happen? Legislators and an array of political obstacles. Where does the money come from? Same place money appears for wars and catastrophic issues. Because this is a catastrophic issue in this country.

He is our future. 650,000 children in the system, yearly, are our futures. I refuse to have them fail or be victims of a broken system. They deserve better. We all deserve the very best.

Two years today he’s been in foster care and there is still zero resolution or an idea of when we will be able to legally adopt him.

His second sister and baby brother are also in care of the state. Both being cared by loving folks.

Love stories also have happy endings. Luke has one. And so many others because of folks who are determined to care for children who have been deeply neglected. There are so many angelic souls opening their hearts and homes to children. And many want to adopt them….

Happy Valentine’s Day, darlings. This little dude is one of my favorite gifts today.

Precious Acceptance

Yesterday after we dropped Kali off at school Luke (2-1/2 y/o) says loudly from his car seat, “Mommy, your daddy says hi!”

“Your daddy?” I asked.

“Nooooo! My daddy at work. YOUUUURRR daddy. He’s sitting here.”

I answered with strain as tears flooded my eyes, “Okay. Tell him hi for me too.”

I looked through the rear view mirror as he looked at the seat next to him and he said, “She say hi.”

My dad transitioned over 26 years ago. When I had my near death experience several years ago he was the only one who showed up to send me right back here. My father wasn’t much in my life. But I knew he loved me dearly. Luke’s message was endearing. Luke has never seen a picture of my father but I’m certain he knew exactly who he was.

I went to take a Kundalini yoga class right after I dropped him off at school. I’ve never had that kind of yoga before. I realized how deeply I hold my breath. I felt I was holding my breath the entire way to the studio. And I released, shedding old tears onto the mat, curled into child’s pose and grateful for no judgment there. Something opened up like a flood. It was beautiful to just allow it.

Memories visited. When I was Luke’s age I was visited by loved ones who had passed on and I never met. I met them in my room daily. My mother didn’t know what to do with me. She took me to doctors. To therapist. To spiritualists. I learned to block it out. I learned early on that this was not a gift. It was obviously something bad. At around 6 I finally stopped seeing or feeling. I would close my eyes tightly and wished they went away.

I don’t want that…ever…for my children. His message was profound in its simplicity. I had been thinking about my dad during the weekend. It was a sweet confirmation that those who pass are always nearby.

I hold sacred space for loved ones who have transitioned. I don’t always see them but I feel them, or hear them. They come in as flashes. Or knowings. I’m not a medium. I have just learned to pay attention to guidance. And most loved ones have such quirks and sweet ways of letting us know they are near us.

How about you? Do you see dead people? How have you dealt with it in this society? Please share below.

Walking Children into Safety

In 2018 there were approximately 687,000 children in foster care.

Out of that amount 63,000 were adopted that year.

52% were male. 48% were female.

About 30% of the children in foster care have severe emotional, behavioral and developmental issues. This number is rising with lack of services for each individual.

There are over 329 million people living in the United States. So when you see that number it seems like a small amount of foster children. It becomes an after thought…someone else’s problem. What can we do that hasn’t already been done, right?!

Many children go back to their parents or primary caretakers – (56% of them). Others get lost in the system. Some grow out of the foster care since they become of legal age (and many fall into the cycle of their parents because they have owned the stigma of foster children). There is a large demographic of blacks, biracial, Latinos, and other minorities.

I don’t do charts well. My brain is not very analytical. I feel. That’s what I do. So when I see the staggering numbers of this reality I cringe. It stops me. My heart breaks open. I have lived it with my own children and the fractured system. Not just in this country but a third world country.

How can we fix the system? There is a drug epidemic. There is a rise in abuse. There are economic issues and social problems thrown in there as well. There is a lack of awareness of what happens to many of these kids who slip through the cracks in many states. The courts and social care systems are depleted. There is not enough man power or money to help these children, the parents, and the foster caretakers. There is just no consistency from one state to another…therefore, children are often not able to get the best care.

The system is set up to reunify the children with their parents. In many cases this becomes a cycle of psychological welfare for the children. They get taken out of their homes, put into a stranger’s house, and then return to parents who really cannot properly parent their children. And a small percentage die in the hands of parents who get them back.

It’s staggering. Overwhelming. Inexcusable. These are the future adults of this nation.

Let’s start with the basics.

I would like to know if anyone here knows of folks who help start non-profits. I have several ideas of how to start small into changing the system. Please message me. It’s time! Dharma.1111@hotmail.com

The Awakened Child

awakened spiritual child

A few mornings ago, on our way to school, our 5 y/o tells me that she had a bad dream during the night. I asked her to share it.

“I was taken by a big skinny black man and he was going to kill me. He was yelling horrible ugly words at me. I was scared cause I knew he really wanted me dead. I am not allowed to repeat those bad words.”

I reassured her that it was a nightmare and that no one would ever hurt her.

“Mama, it felt so real!”

I held onto the stirring wheel holding back tears. This was no nightmare. This was a memory that has been locked into her cellular memories.

Kali’s biological dad wanted to kill her when she was three months old. Her depiction of him was exact. She’s technically my granddaughter. Her biological dad hurt my daughter while trying to strangle her in a public place and she was able to come undone. The paramedics were called and he took Kali and left the scene. She was sent to the hospital. He disappeared with Kali for over 24 hours.

My daughter, whom I adopted when she was 9 y/o from Romania, called me from Florida to tell me he had her and she was scared he would kill her. Luckily she had angels protecting her. He was drunk and loaded up on drugs when he walked into the police station many hours later and asked them to take Kali away from him before he would kill her. He was arrested then and the rest is a matter of divine intervention. My husband (then he was my fiance) and I rushed to Florida from North Carolina and picked them both. I was also blessed that my in-laws took care of the situation until we got there.

My daughter is mentally ill and mentally disabled and unstable. She cannot raise a child. In the midst of her move we realized she was also hurting Kali. The Department of Social Services got involved and after two months of investigation we were able to get Kali into our homes. The horrific details of what Kali endured in the first five months of her life are inconceivable.

She was a scared little baby. She wouldn’t sleep. She was shell shocked (and still is with loud noises). She had been shaken so much we had to get her tested. He had HIV and we had her tested several times just to make sure we didn’t get her sick if we got a cold. We needed to be sure of how to protect her from anything else. Most of all we had to ensure her little soul that she was safe and loved.

Kali is unaware of her history. My daughter lost her rights a year later and we began the adoption process. We, my husband and I, are her parents. We are her safety net. Kali has never once asked why we are white and she’s black. She’s never wondered why I have so many other kids. She doesn’t ask why her baby brother didn’t have a mommy who wanted him when we picked him up a year ago from Florida.

On this particular early morning while she shared her dream I white-knuckled the stirring wheel and began to cry. I couldn’t help it. The human in me felt her pain and fear. She said, “Mama, it’s okay, it was just a bad dream like you said.”

“Kali Bug, daddy and I will make sure this never happens to you.”

“I know. You love me. I also know he doesn’t love himself. I don’t know who the man was but he definitely doesn’t like himself at all. I hope he can get help. He was so scary!”

She went silent in the backseat. Her baby brother, 2 y/o, interrupted the moment with the most genuine words, “Sissy, I woovveeee you. You my sissy.”

The awakened child doesn’t need much to show up. They are able to verbalize emotions with ease because they feel a sense of freedom in sharing. They aren’t here to merely exist. They are here to raise the vibration of this planet. They have come in with clarity. I am no expert on these highly-conscious children coming into our world. But, I am aware of their quick release of traumas stored in their cellular memories.

Kali has on many occasions told her daddy that she liked it better when she was the daddy and he was the kid. She has recounted many memories from other times and places. Their bond is extraordinary. And this is was makes her incredibly wise beyond her years. We encourage her to voice out her dreams and whatever else comes up.

I am a student of both of my grandchildren who are in our care. I am privileged to be entrusted to raise them in the most conscious manner. My husband and I have taken this job as the most important one we will ever have. I am blessed and continue to just show up to whatever they need to teach me daily. And one thing I have learned through all of these children who have passed through my home is that love is the thread that truly ties us together. Whether they are mentally ill or they are struggling with their own demons, love is what bonds us to each other and the rest of the world. Love, patience, acceptance, and acknowledgment is what they need to continue opening up to a world that needs them. They are the shape shifters and warriors of light that are transforming our world.