Heritage Day Yesterday

And it coincided with my son’s birthday, the one whose heritage we don’t know.

My daughter’s birth mother has no idea how blessed I am to have her. To answer any questions, to explain something and to just be a big sister to her. I like to act, give, care and better yet, I have another young lady who is extremely invested in birth mom’s future and that of her children and grandson. Seeking bursaries for her teen daughter’s education next year, looking for anything that can help earn money, like learnerships..though time is now too short so daughter is now aiming to go to university next year.

But what about Micaiah? Where is the woman who gave birth to him on September 24? Is she ok? Did she have more children after him? How many did she REALLY have before him?? Do I pass her in the mall? Is she one of those who goes hunting for expired food? (Three people were shot dead and fed to pigs recently. A company dumps its expired food near a farm and a mother and a married couple went to pick what they could find in the farm boundaries. The owner shot them (allegedly) and told his workers to feed them to pigs. There is terrible suffering in our country. I know some who are that close to starvation that they’d give their lives for expired food. Is his birth mom still on the brink as the social workers claimed she was? I wish I knew.

For now, I’ll celebrate the boy I have, who I have raised since he was four and a half months old. A boy who has brought me to tears because of the horrible challenges he has faced. And who has made me laugh at the weirdest of misunderstandings and random use of highfalutin language when he clearly doesn’t know the meaning of the word he’s just used. I am so thankful for his presence and his life. We have more difficult years ahead of us, but what I love for him, is that he doesn’t know it. He is happy.

His little sister- age four- was trying to write number ‘eight.’ She failed once, I held her hand for three more and then she did her own two that were clearly recognisable as eights. My son noted later on, “Hmm, and I still can’t write an eight!”

No self pity. Just a fact. As if he’s proud that she can do what he cannot. I hope that that lack of concern lasts his entire life. He deserves as much of a happy go lucky life as he can find.

Happy birthday my boy. We are blessed to have you in our family.