The Due Date

Today, June 19th, was my due date back in 1991. It's still such a significant date for me. I think it goes back to that "static" motherhood idea that I posted about a few days ago. I've thought about it, and him, a lot today.

Happy Birthday

Today my son turned 18.

Grief, the overwhelming kind

The grief of relinquishing a child is overwhelming and I just didn't always handle it well. Okay, it consumed me and sometimes I did not do well dealing with its omnipresence in my life.

Since I was in my very early 20's, I tried 'having a good time'. After all, isn't that what I was supposed to be doing? Isn't that why I was supposed to give up my baby, so I could have a 'normal life' for a 20 year-old???? But given the opportunity to drink at a party, I would often drink too much, and my grief would only feel even larger. My early 20's were such a dark, lost time.

I remember the evening of my 22nd birthday vividly. I worked a 12-hour day as usual. After all, if I worked hard at my 'good job', wasn't that one of the 'right' things to do, that I was supposed to do with this second chance and all that? I came home to my then-husband and just knew it was over. I felt badly for him because it wasn't his fault. I remember thinking to myself I should be happy. I was still so young, still had so much opportunity in front of me, had a guy who was good to me, blah blah blah blah. And as much as a fog as I was in, I strongly felt like there was something significant about turning 22. I'll never forget it. Sitting there in the late summer light, on the floor of carpet that really was beyond the age of replacement in a rented house, there was something about 22 but I couldn't quite place it.

The other night, in the middle of the night, I got it.

My daughter was born on the 22nd.

Coincidence? Maybe. But I believe in signs, especially considering how hard it was for me to try to become a mother after years of believing I didn't deserve to be one.

Static Motherhood

Like some other birthmoms, I didn't feel sure about calling the child I gave birth to 'my son'. But then I figured, absentee dads get to claim their children as 'my kid', so why couldn't I call the child I had grown and birthed my son?

However, as we birthmoms know, having a child you still feel connected to, still feel extreme love for, etc. but not raising that child leaves a huge void. Part of that void for me is the sudden ending as soon as the child goes to its adoptive parents. Everything is just a memory at that point. So it's all static, not dynamic. While the child isn't dead, my connection is. There is only so much that can be garnered from an annual update and a snapshot. Everything is bittersweet - the few things I have from the hospital stay, the few pictures that I have in an album. I wonder about so much.

The static v. dynamic thing has really shown itself in my relationship with my daughter. Everytime she hurts herself, I am beside myself. Most mothers hurt more than their children when it comes to boo-boos, but I am always terrified that it's the first, small sign of some horrible thing. (I've read blogs about moms who noticed an unexplained black-eye and soon thereafter neuroblastoma is diagnosed and child dies months later.) I wish I could shake the feeling that she will be taken from me. I wish I could relax more and just be her mom.

I don't know about any of my son's childhood mishaps, injuries, etc. There have been no individual worries since I am not privy to his daily life. Again, it's static. I notice the cigarette sign on convenience store doors about 'you cannot buy if you weren't born before this date in 1991.' Does my son smoke?

As my daughter outgrows her boo-boos, we move on and all is well. I remember holding her as an infant in the middle of the night and feeling like I had missed so much with my son. Now, I can't even fathom what it would have been like to be his mother as a toddler because I don't know his toddler personality, whether he was as fearless as his sister, any of that. But I know each mark on my daughter's body and how it happened. I notice how some have faded to nothing, how some are barely visible. The memories of her have accumulated to the point where I don't remember everything, but I can look back and smile when something comes to mind.

I still don't smile when I reminisce about the short time I had with my son. It's all so bittersweet.

Still Adjusting

My daughter loves writing on her new chalkboard. However, she is still learning the concept of starting far enough to the left to write what she wants. This morning I went in her room and she was trying to write my name, so I wrote it for her a little higher so she could practice writing it below. I came back out to the living room and told my husband she needed help writing my name, so I wrote "Mommy" for her.

It felt so very strange to say 'my name' and 'mommy' in the same sentence.

While I never hesitate to answer to my daughter's calls for "Mommy" or even refer to myself in the third person, as in "let go of Mommy's hair", saying out loud "My name is Mommy," still makes me nervous, like I am an imposter and someone is going to call me on it immediately.

Obviously, I still feel like I don't deserve to be a mommy, and I keep expecting someone to notice.

Random ... on sleepers and such

My daughter is definitely out of babyhood and toddlerhood. I am just now starting to feel pangs of missing her in those stages. I worry that I am ... I dunno how to put it ... too close to her, too needy/needful of her. She is getting harder to pick up now that she is getting older/bigger and cuddling her is just not the same now that she is bigger. It's harder to play those games where I lay on the floor and lift her, using my legs to support hers so she can be an airplane.

I know how we got here ... she started talking and each day I was just amazed by her ability to communicate. I was living in the moment and enjoying it - and now I have a little person instead of a toddler. She is still so wonderful and amazing but I am going through what I hope is a phase where I expect her to be 14 tomorrow and tell me not to touch her, please don't drop me off so close to school, etc. Ugh.

Having her be so much more of a person is really neat on so many levels. But is has made me realize that all those years of having newborn clothes and toys tucked away in a "hope chest" (read here: cardboard box) made those clothes and toys take on a life of their own. Because they were mostly boy clothes and because the teddy bear and blankets were tinged with so much regret, I never used them and have given almost all of them away. But still, when I see a newborn sleeper I immediately am brought back to those days of wishing ... wishing things turned out differently, wishing life could be the fairy tale everyone ELSE seemed to be having.

I still have some of those thoughts when I see people with that 'perfect' nuclear family, the folks who haven't had their innocence stripped away by adoption or some other tragedy. But I know I am looking through my own lens (lense?) and it's an unfair one. We all have our problems, but it's so easy to look at others and think their lives are perfect. But signing onto F.acebo.ok tonight and seeing a 'mutual friend' who I remembered as a candidate for Geek of the Year have a wife and 2 nice looking kids made me immediately think: if he could do it, why couldn't I? Sure, I have a beautiful daughter, but I am 10 years older than I should have been and road weary from carrying all this damn baggage.

Raising my daughter and moving beyond those baby and toddler days have allowed me to grow a lot in many ways, to work through some of the issues, (but not the grief). It's nice to be able to do my daughter's laundry and not have strange emotions that I still won't address straining against locks in my heart, because I have only memories of my little sister's clothes to associate with size 4T stuff.

While I am missing her baby and toddler days and still have lots of issues, I like this new sense of empowerment I've felt in the last few days. I don't feel like I am in do-over mode for the time being. Maybe it will last a while?

Pushing Me Away

Out of the blue the other day, I remembered how M asked me to stop calling. She distinctly said, "We'd like for you not to call anymore because he understands about the phone and will reach for it." I remember that he would have been old enough to do that, but certainly not old enough to understand who he was "talking" to.

The thing is, I can't remember how old he was. How long did I get to call them whenever I wanted? Hear updates about his growth and milestones whenever I needed? I honestly cannot remember at all. But I do remember how it felt to be told that. To completely understand that a solid door was closing.

A couple of thoughts came to mind after this memory surfaced. One is that they could have asked me to call after he was in bed for the evening. So why didn't they? Clearly, it was an opportunity to go ahead and cut off that kind of contact.

I have always been willing to be engaged. They have repeatedly pushed me back.

Christmas is coming, a time when I normally send a letter and presents. I thought I might stop this year, especially knowing he doesn't want contact. Well, I would just be doing what they most likely want if I cease at this point, and look where doing what they want has gotten me so far.

I honored their request to stop calling years ago rather than countering with another option (I was just so shocked by the request and figured that at some point it would resume ... duh). I can't help but think that with so little contact from me, it has only contributed to him not wanting contact.

So I am going to just do what I want this year for Christmas, what I feel I need to do.