Brotha from Anotha Motha

At first I wasn't feelin it.
Actually, I was down right against it.
My 53 year old daddy and step mom adopting a baby?
Hell No. Never. Nunca!
It made no sense. My pops already had two daughters. What did he need another child for? He was too old anyway. At his age, he can't be running around chasing no little kid. Never mind the fact that their crib in Brooklyn has no front or backyard. Kids need yards damnit! I was tight and I wasn't having it.

Five months later I get a letter in the mail while I'm in Ghana for study abroad. In the envelope, there is a picture of a little brown baby and on the back it says, "Hi, I'm your new brother Jonathan." My new brother?? Hold up. What?! I was heated. How dare they?! How dare they make such a huge decision without my blessings. The nerve. I called my dad as soon as I returned and told him exactly what I thought about the whole thing. We got in a huge fight and didn't speak for a couple months.

Four months after I let my dad have it, I got on the Fung Wah to New York to make peace and to meet my new brother. Between my dad and I, amends were made and I finally met my 10 month old brother. I was instantly smitten by the chubby lil dude with patches of hair growing all over his head. It was love at first sight and I spent the week changing diapers and watching Baby Einstein. Although I enjoyed the week, I couldn't shake the nagging tug on my conscience. I needed to apologize to pops.

I had been blinded by selfishness and I was shamed.
I never considered what a blessing this child would be...

...the happiness he would bring to his new mom who was cursed with miscarriage after miscarriage and could never bear children.
...the second chance for my dad who never quite got over losing his two daughters in a messy divorce with my mom and not watching them grow up.

What would've happened to this unwanted seed of a violated woman had he not been adopted. Where would he be now? Statistics abound of orphanage babies growing up with no love, no affection, abuses and neglect. And then there's this " controversial/ new/ trend" I'm not really sure about. He could've been another black baby left to be raised by an institution. Just another number.

My baby brother is turning two today and every day I'm more and more fascinated by him. He's a loving, funny, loud, gets up in everything, nosy toddler. I always find myself wondering about his future, what he'll be, what he'll do. Sometimes I get teary cuz I think about all he'll have to go through growing up black in this country and I want to protect him from all of it. But I guess all I can do is be there to help him become a strong black man and leave the rest to God.

The crib in BK may not have a yard but the house is full of love, toys, laughter and enough stuff to keep the lil dude busy and there are parks on every city block. My old man definately can't keep up with his hyper ass but that's what I'm here for. We kick it regularly and he's become my little homie. He keeps me laughin and runnin all day and I read him books with black babies and titles he can't read yet. He is a blessing in every way and I can't wait to watch him grow up!

Happy Birthday J-Dizzle, sissy loves you!