I never ever imagined myself as a mother. Growing up with four brothers, three of them younger than me, meant I had my fair share of bottles, nappies, homework, bedtime stories and all the things big sisters do. My studies and career came first for a long time and the men I dated weren’t interested in having kids. Then the biggest drawback of all: I never felt “grown-up enough” to take on the responsibility of my own child. The year I went overseas with my two nephews, the year that inspired my first children’s book, I suddenly had this desire to adopt a child. Not give birth, please note, but adopt some little mite who needed a home. Two weeks in Egypt with my nephews aged 10 and 12 were enough to rid me of any maternal feelings and make me decide to just stick to being a good aunt. I had changed my mind about children.
About three months after this trip, I had a visit from a domestic worker who had worked for me a few years back—she had a problem. She arrived with her daughter Mabel, now aged eleven. I remembered Mabel as an enchanting child aged six, all arms and legs and a big smile. But I got married, Josephine left my employ, and we didn’t see each other for another five years. Josephine came straight to the point and asked me to foster Mabel so she could get a better education.
Thinking for the briefest of nano-seconds that “nothing would change,” I said yes. Of course, everything changed. I developed maternal feelings worthy of a lioness guarding her cubs from danger. I also became an expert on the shortcomings of our ever-changing education system, the life-cycle of any insect, reptile, or bird you care to mention, and in anything to help my foster child get an education. Mabel had already failed Grade 2, was advised to repeat Grade 4, and was basically illiterate. How is that possible, I asked myself? I began the slow and often painful task of teaching her all over again, supplemented by many extra lessons.
Mabel baulked at first, having never had to apply her mind or develop motivation. She’d been told so many times she was a failure—what else was there to look forward to? Eight years later, she is scoring 70-80% in most of her subjects, plans to be a writer (just like me!) and is an amazingly well-adjusted, charming, sunny-tempered young lady with a delightful sense of humour. She is a credit to her mother, Josephine, and to me, her Paper Mom (as she calls me, since I am legally her ‘mom’ on paper). I adopted Mabel in February 2009 at the specific request of both her parents, since they believe that with me she will “have a real life.” Those are her mother’s words, one of the bravest women I have ever known, for who else but a brave and unselfish woman would willingly give her child to someone else for that child’s sake.
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4 Responses
Hi Fiona
So wonderful and touching to hear your story. Thank you for sharing it and inspiring myself and others out there. Have a wonderful mother’s Day!
What a beautiful story, very moving! I have raised 5 children (biological)and often wondered if people who adopt children feel the same way about these children as someone who raises their own ‘flesh and blood’. You have answered my question. Perhaps when my children have all flown the coup, I may take on the responsibility of raising some more even if they are not my own flesh and blood. Well done on taking the initiative and making the right choice.
This really instills faith that there are still people out there who are prepared to go that extra mile to help others irrespective of how this can change your whole life! Stunning
I was extremely touched by this story. I am the adoptive mother of 2 beautiful children myself. They are a lot younger. I sincerely hope I will manage to find a way to instill confidence and a love of learning in my children as you have done Fiona. Well done!