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.

Two Years Later

I realized it's been far too long since I posted any updates here, but a pretty phenomenal new birthmom I know inspired me to do so. Thinking back to the first hours, days, months after I placed Emilia I only remember a blur of tears and staring at pictures. After being forcibly removed from my cocoon of sadness by my loving friends, I put on a face of 'normal'. Holding back the tears, stowing my pictures and the stabbing pain in my heart-wearing the mask of being okay- until I was safely hidden in my bed. Then one day I realized, it wasn't a mask any more. Somewhere along the road, a month, two months down the road, I finally had some happy days. A lot of sad still, but some happy. It's now been two years and three months since I placed Em (...meaning I got pregnant just about three years exactly ago...weird). Rather than struggling with feelings of missing Emilia and wishing I could hold her in my arms, I'm struggling with feelings of guilt over not feeling like that anymore. I chose adoption so Em could have a better life, but also so I  could have the life I envisioned- Go to college, be a 'carefree' teenager/twenty year old, travel, meet my future husband, etc etc. And now I'm living that. I go to a college I love, live on my own, am planning on spending four months next year in Germany, and date whomever I want (still working on the future husband thing). I still miss Emilia. There will always be that hole in my heart in just her shape, but it doesn't hurt so much. Instead of crying when her wonderful adoptive mom sends me pictures I (usually) smile and think about how happy she is and how completely loved and cherished. That's all I could ask for. I see her and her family about once a month now, but I don't find myself counting the days any more. Don't get me wrong, I love our visits and wouldn't trade them for anything, but our relationship has also evolved into something more beautiful than I could ever have imagined.

Emilia and her sister were flower girls in my brothers wedding this past August. Her whole family came and her mom later told me about a conversation she had with one of my aunts that I think exemplifies the situation. She commented how awesome my family is to which my aunt replied "they're you're family too". Yes, Auntie. How right you are. And our entire family is indeed awesome.

The Light at the End of the Tunnel

Emilia's adoptive mom and I had coffee the other night-- no kids, just us ladies. Truthfully, I was a little stressed going in to it as these meetings are typically super high-emotion (duh) and this proved true, but in a very very good way. We each kept saying things that the other was feeling too (always nice to know you're on the same page) and talked about how the puzzle is complete now that we're together. I respect this woman so incredibly much; she's an amazing mother, friend, wife. She always follows her heart and doesn't let the negativity of the world around keep her from this. Sure, she has flaws and makes some mistakes, but what I admire most is her ability to admit this and talk about whatever issue arises. She's taught me to talk about how I'm feeling which not only strengthened our relationship, but my relationships with all my friends and family. She fills a missing piece in my life no one else could, and I believe will all my heart we were destined to be family. She not only adopted my daughter, but also me and has accepted me into her family with undeniable grace, love, and humility. While giving my daughter a home, I got a family as well-- another set of parents (though I love my own deeply- Mom, Dad: don't be offended you, could never be replaced), a little sister who lights up my life with her brilliant 6-year-old mind, and two ridiculous cats. The greatest thing anyone has said to me is when Emilia's dad told me I was not a guest in their home- I was family. I thank God, in all His mysterious wisdom, for bring us together and saving my life.

Adoption.

When will I be able to get off this rollercoaster? I'm getting nauseous. The ride isn't fun anymore. Seriously.






Oh yeah, never.

Basically.

Basically I just miss Emilia like crazy but then I look at pictures her mom posts on FB and I almost don't recognize her. Like she doesn't feel like my baby anymore. Like this little girl that I'm missing and feeling completely broken about doesn't really exist anymore. So what's the point.

Family

As I prepare to move southward for school, I spent nearly all day, three days in a row, visiting Emilia and her family. While it's incredibly hard to say goodbye for now, those three days were some of the happiest I've had. I got to see Emilia walk eight steps by herself. I got to put on a lemonade stand with her big sister. And I got to simply be a part of their family, feel exceptionally loved, and know (as I always have) they were meant to be part of my family forever.