Those days

And then there are those days when someone asks, "how could you be so mean to give your baby away" and "don't you love her?" "Don't you miss her?" Why yes, in fact I do love and miss her. But she wasn't mine to 'keep' or 'give away'. She was always meant to be part of their family, I just helped get her there.

Family

I sometimes forget to write about the good things because it's the bad times I need to flush out of my system, but fear not! There definitely are good things about adoption.

A few weeks ago Emilia's Aunt passed away somewhat suddenly. It was right around Big Sis' birthday and we'd had planned to all celebrate that together so in an effort to keep things normal for my favorite newly eight-year-old, my parents and I had dinner at Em's house. Despite the tragedy and loss in the air, more abundant was the love. These people truly are my family. When they cry, I cry. When they laugh, I laugh. I am so incredibly blessed that not only did the adoptive family welcome me and my family with open arms, but also my family welcomed the adoptive family. I know and appreciate the rarity of this.

As we were leaving, I gave Big Sis a huge, per usual and said, "I'm so proud of you, my beautiful eight-year-old!" Beaming up at me, she completed the thought with "...Step-daughter". While I know she obviously isn't my step-daughter I thought it was kind of beautiful of her to say. It shows we're not related by blood but we are family through and through. She is so many things to me: a sister, a daughter, a niece, a sister to my daughter... It's so difficult to put adoption things into logical terms, as open adoption has only been around a few decades and no vocabulary has been standardized. Somehow this wonderful little girl always knows exactly what to say to me. She is incredible and has been since the first moment I met her. Words may fail,  but this love that binds us goes beyond anything I could've hoped for when looking at that little "+" on the pregnancy test over three years ago (!!).

Polarity of Birthmotherhood

*Disclaimer: I am not trying to minimize any birthmoms story or pain, and I recognize there are quite a few generalizations made in the following. Please understand this is a cry of my heart, not a judgement of anyone else's.*

During my 3+ years of being involved in the birthmother circuit, I've met a lot of them. Some briefly, and some have remained my friend for years, but all of them have an incredibly unique story to tell. I've seen birthmoms who try to hide from the adoption, who drown their emotions in alcohol, who are completely content and blissful, who have open adoptions, who have closed adoptions, who see their birthchildren once a year, who see their birthchildren once a week, who love to talk about the adoption, who hate to talk about the adoption, who live in the past, who live in the future, who are angry, hurt, broke, scarred, loved, loving, inspirational, courageous, strong, fearless. I've met a lot of birthmoms.

A large portion don't handle placing their children well (which I completely understand; most have come from unfair, painful family situations themselves, and it is incredibly courageous they chose adoption)-- they return to drinking, doing drugs, or just plain denial. Another camp takes the opposite path-- they become incredibly mature, take control of their lives, and move forward. In open-adoption instances, the first group typically has rocky relationship with the adoptive family and the latter have a very strong, familial bond.

And then there's me. Somehow I don't feel like I fit in to either camp. And if I can't fit in with birthmoms, who can I fit in with? They (theoretically) understand the depth of one of the most important decisions of my life in a way no one else can even begin to imagine. But I have little beyond adoption in common with the revert-partiers, as I can't allow myself to be around that sort of situations anymore. And even the perfectly-adjusted group seems just a little too perfect for me. Being a birth mom is not the greatest thing I've ever experienced, sorry. It still hurts. I'm not over it. I'm not fine. I love the adoptive family and we are extended family and I love seeing my baby girl, but I am still broken. After almost three years it still hurts almost as much as that day I sat in a hospital parking lot and sobbed until my face was numb.

Obviously I'm not in the same place I was then. I finished an associates and am working on finishing two bachelors now. I stay away from partying. I go to church. I smile and laugh when I am blessed enough to see my daughter and her family. But it's not easy watching another woman mother your child. It's not easy seeing the picture perfect family you helped create. It's not easy going through life feeling like a piece of you is missing. I am trying to be strong and brave and okay, but most of the time I just feel like I have no idea what the fuck I'm doing.

The Ride on the Way to "Okay": Burgeoning Questions

Each day/month/year of adoption brings new issues, new joys, and new sorrows. After over two and a half years, here's where we're at:

The past week-ish I've been having mini-breakdowns because I hadn't seen Emilia in a while, so when I finally did it was like I could breathe again; I could feel my whole body physically relax. This used to happen after about two seconds of leaving her, but now it's closer to a month or so, depending. I figure, that's pretty good given that mothers (by any definition of the word, but especially the "carried her for nine months and birthed her" definition) being away from their children is one of the most unnatural feelings in the world-- We're just not programmed for it. Add the fact that Emilia is two and with that age comes a territorial nature over any "special thing" be it toy, book, or visitor and you get more than a little bit of sibling rivalry over lap-time with Tante Hillary [need to remember to write a whole post about that... :)].

An hour or two into the visit, Em's mom pulls me aside and asks if I can pay a little more attention to Emilia's big sister (now age 7 1/2; birthmom uninvolved). I totally understand this and love the girl as if she were my little sister and want to hang out with her etc, but it's so hard when every molecule in my body is still tuned to Em and kind of needed that more than anything else at that moment. I try really hard not to show favoritism toward Emilia, but the fact is- She's my birthdaughter. I love her sister more than I can even put words to, but there's something about biological mother and child that you cannot manufacture in any other relationship, and you really can't ignore. It's how God made us to love as parents and why we can put up with our own children far more easily than others in many instances or simply stare at them, something I never understood until having a child (though keep in mind, I speak from very limited experience as a "parent"). Thankfully, for now there's a built in time for me to spend with just the big sister while Emilia naps, and we have a grand old time and I do enjoy it.

Em's mom and I were able to have a chat later in the day about how the big sis is doing with issues of adoption. They're very open with both girls (to a level they can comprehend at each age) regarding their adoptions and birthparents, which I love. I think it's so healthy not to keep it in the dark. We also discussed how Emilia is at the age where she's going to start asking questions about whether she grew in Mommy's tummy and whatnot. Even I can see her little wheels turning about such topics.

Skip forward a bit.... The girls and I are rough-housing, Em's mom is on the couch nearby working on the computer.


Emilia tackles me and says "My mommy"
Completely taken aback I say "Oh yeah? What's your mommy doing? Sitting on the computer?"
Big Sis: "No Hill, she's talking about you"
Me: "Well I'm not her mommy, I'm her birthmom"
Big Sis: "You used to be her mommy"
Me: "Nope, I've always been her birthmom and your mom's always been her mommy"

And so it begins....

Skip forward to that evening, after I'd left. 

I get a text from Em's mom about something Big Sis said that night: "Why doesn't my birthmom want to see me, when Hillary really really wants to see Millie?". Later in the conversation Emilia pipes in "Hillary is my birthmom". Seems like a sneak-preview of what's to come. It breaks my heart, but I can also understand why Big Sis' birthmom isn't emotionally able to see her. It's hard. It wonderful, but very hard. I also know she's in a very different life-situation than I am. All around it's a tricky situation full of love and joy, but also pain and loss. I'm just so grateful these girls have the mom that they do. If anyone can handle it, she can (whether she believes this or not). It doesn't mean there won't be pain. It doesn't mean we'll stop hoping Big Sis' birthmom will come around. But in the end, I truly believe it does mean  we're all going to be okay. The ride on the way to okay, well... That's another story.