Mama

From the start, Yaojie has called Eric and I "mama" and "baba". It is wonderful to hear those words from him. But I have also heard him call the cab driver "baba" and our guide, as well as the other American mother here "mama". To him, perhaps these words mean nothing --more like a first name than a title wrapped in security and love. It stings a bit to hear him use the term mama indiscriminately, but really, is it any wonder? He came from a wonderful orphanage, but the best orphanage in the world is still just that, an orphanage. What does "mama" mean to him... perhaps not much. His nannies certainly cared well for him, but his was a series of nannies caring for 500 children. Together, they did one job of a mother, they fed him, bathed him, taught him manners, laughed with him, played with him, taught him to brush his teeth. But does Yaojie know that a mother wipes your tears, holds you when it storms, rocks you to sleep, strokes your hair as you cuddle, walks the halls with you when you are sick. Did Yaojie have this? Who sat with him during his 8 month hospital stay at age 2? Who calmed his fears, eased his pain, brought a smile? Maybe someone. Maybe a rotating shift of nurses. Maybe no one. So I am going to enjoy his calling me mama and as I show him what this means, I will revel in the fact that one day when he calls "Mama," he will mean only me.