Love

I think I am just now beginning to love my daughter as much as I love my son. I seem to finally be letting myself love her fully. I loved my son since before I could feel him kick. I loved him full-on, en total, completely, with reckless abandon. It shattered my heart to hand him over, but I loved him so much I gave him to a family I thought would give him everything I couldn't.

What makes me think that I am finally truly loving my daughter? Because I read this post today and the song that instantly popped into my head was "More Than Words" which was way popular during my last trimester of pregnancy with my son. That song makes me want to go back in time because it reminds me of all the good feelings of love and hope I had those last two months of my pregnancy. Sometimes I want to be back there with the option to change things, or at least do a better job of asserting myself.

For the first time when I thought of that song, I thought of both of my babies, and maybe, just maybe, after first learning of my daughter's existence in my womb 2 years and 5 months ago, I can stop being afraid to love her as fully as is possible. I wish it hadn't taken this long.

Pity Party

I had a really crap-ass day. I have really enjoyed my new job and the people there but then I go in today to find out that the other women there don't like me. They don't like the way I come across and are concerned that my personality won't mesh with theirs. I'm not fired or anything but it came as such a shock I started crying and I've cried on and off all day because to me the bottom line was, it wasn't something I am or am not doing, it's WHO I AM that is the problem. And it's really the same message I've been getting for 9 friggin' years. People here have been telling me directly and indirectly that I'm not from here and never will be. Duh. I know that. Can we get past it already? So thanks to my damn Yankee parents, I'm different from you small town country bumpkins. Big deal.

I am so tired of feeling out of place. I know the Hubby would feel out of place if we leave so it's not fair to ask him, and whose to say life would really be that much better.

What I haven't mentioned yet on this blog is another delightful experience. Last Friday night we took our daughter to the emergency room because one of the family cats sunk a claw into her face. Turns out they won't seal puncture wounds due to the risk of infection from it being inflicted by a cat. So 4 hours and $150 later they sic a social worker on me who inferred that I was neglecting my daughter by allowing her to be scratched repeatedly by my cat, yada yada yada. I made it through that interview before I burst into tears, although Hubby then walked away since he didn't know what else to do as I had a meltdown in the hospital hallway. Like I didn't feel badly enough for not getting across the room in time to prevent my daughter from being scratched and possibly having a lifelong scar, a social worker has to come and tell me I'm not a good mother? (It is healing pretty nicely and if anything, it will be a pin sized scar.) Oh, and thank you Nameless Friend who pointed out to me just today that I now have a permanent record with DSS.

I'm just tired of trying to damn hard at everything and coming up short. I know I have it better than a lot of people and I shouldn't complain, but tonight I just can't help but feel sorry for myself and wish I was living someplace where I could be me and that would be okay.

So tomorrow I'll go in, smile and nod, and be as polite and pleasant as possible, and we'll see how long the gig lasts. Meanwhile I'm still debating whether to bother Hubby with the latest since he's been out of town all week and isn't due back until the day after my birthday.

Oh, and two days ago I received an email stating that my brother and his wife have rescheduled their scheduled c-section to a day that happens to be my wedding anniversary. He used to be a little more thoughtful about stuff, but he has changed a lot in the last year. For example, this is the same brother who wanted to know why I had gone to Home State last month when he was also there - um, because I was invited by him to his son's birthday party?!?!? So when I'm not feeling like I'm on everyone's shit list, I am reminded of insignificant I really am.

And no, I haven't gotten any response from M yet (or should I even bother with using the word yet?) either.

Okay, now that I've dumped all this out, I can begin to feel a little better.

Pounding Heart

So hubby brings the mail in two days ago. There's a letter from the attorney's office, but it has the name of an adoption agency in the return address above the clearly recognizable address I've been using for years. This is the first thing I've gotten from them since the finalization. It's a white #10 envelope with just one page folded inside. I can tell before I even open it. My heart is pounding and I'm thinking that M has asked the attorney to write a f* off and leave us alone letter. It's only been a few days since his birthday and the receipt of my letter reminding her that I am still waiting for a picture and asking again about contact, so the timing is right, although faster than expected for a response.

But no, it's from the attorney about how they've been doing adoptions for so many years now they've decided to start an actual agency. And it's all warm and fuzzy and wonderful. Barf. I am kind of curious how I qualified for that mailing list, but was a little encouraged that they had my correct name and address, so I know that I am in their system. Also, the letter did mention how the agency is geared to cater to everyone involved in adoption, so maybe I will act on the advice of a commenter a while back and ask them for a little assistance with the contact issue and maybe some birthmother counseling/support group information. Can't hurt at this point.

Father's Day

... was harder than the birthday. They didn't coincide this year, but they did when he was born. In the past few days on a couple of non-adoption blogs I regularly read, I read a couple of Father's Day tributes to single teenage moms by their now-grown daughters. Those posts, of course, have made me wonder again why I didn't just tough it out. I know the reason: I wanted the best for him and thought that was what I was doing.

I had a hard time falling asleep last night since there was nothing else to distract me from my thoughts and I just kept going over the birth, the following days, the relinquishment, all the time wishing I had kept him. What kept flashing in my mind is one of his Christmas pictures that year, on his belly in an expensive outfit in front of the tree with tons of Fisher Price toys surrounding him. What I thought the first time I saw that picture was what I still think today: I couldn't have done that for him, but that he didn't need that - he just needed his mama's love. But I know he has gotten plenty of momma and daddy love, just not from me. And that makes me so sad.

It took about 90 minutes for me to realize that I was looking at the situation through the eyes of today rather than 16 years ago and at that point I could let go again, at least temporarily. Yes, I was in a stable relationship with a wonderful man who was not the birthfather but was willing to parent, whose mother really wanted me to parent. Her parting words to me as the three of us left the house for the attorney's office: It's not like you don't have a husband. She knew what she was talking about, she had given up two. But I didn't understand and I could already hear the whispers of "you know, he's not his real son" echoing throughout my son's boyhood and I really didn't want that for him, or for me. Sure he probably still gets it, but he's adopted, he's not just my illegitimate son.

I miss him. I really hope I get a response from M soon.

16

Much of this weekend I found myself thinking of how my little baby boy, who I last saw when he was four days old, will be 16 years old next weekend. It just blows my mind. I was so independent when I was 16, off traveling around the country, coming home and getting a job, buying my first car and just ready for life.

And I spent some time feeling sad about missing all of these years with him. Sure, the cycle came back a few times about how much better off he is (yada yada yada), but I realized that some of my sadness was also because I miss the person I was when I had him. The sense of adventure and hope, the sense of rightness - that all was as it was supposed to be. As much as I love my daughter and my life is stable (yada yada yada), I just don't feel connected to her, nor do I feel connected to my husband or the place I live.

I spent much of today feeling angry, out of place, like I am some kind of pretender who is tired of pretending but unsure what to do about it. For the time being, I am done feeling angry and am glad I didn't voice anything since one can never truly take back words that are spoken aloud. I do want to think through in the coming days and weeks on the thoughts of who I really am, where I am now, and where I want to be. And if I figure out that I want to be who and where I am now, that's fine, but I want it to be by my conscious choice, rather than the sum of other choices.

Most of all, I just can't believe my son is going to be 16.

At the Post Office

Today was my last day at my now-old job and I have a certain sense of relief, freedom and joy that I haven't had lately. I've already started my new job (training on my day off from my old job) so when I go back to my new job tomorrow I will already have a comfort level with what I'm doing there. So now I can relax a little and create a new routine and lifestyle. Yay!

I stopped by the post office today on my way home from work to mail a couple of things. The clerk oohed and aahed over my daughter as many people do, and offered me a book of stamps in return for her. This happens from time to time - people saying lightheartedly that they'll give me such-and-such for her and while I laughingly make the appropriate response, I'm always thinking to myself how nothing could ever make me give her away. Then I handed him the second package, the birthday package, and as my daughter sat there on the counter I thought of how there was my precious daughter right next to a package that in a sense represented my son. My living, breathing, beautiful girl next to a package going to a family who did get a baby from me. And I wondered if the clerk knew, because he seemed to sober up a little. After all, when something is addressed to three people, first name only, c/o an attorney, it seems like those who have been around the block a few times would have figured out why.

And since I had to mail the package today to get there in time for his birthday, I finally made myself (re)write the response to the Christmas letter. I had to update it a little and I also added a note to my son in his birthday card. In it I referenced M&P, specifically calling them his parents and how his mom told me how he liked a wide variety of music. So between that and the letter to them, I am hoping they have enough information to decide to be in touch more regularly and/or more directly. I don't want to wait until he's 18. Waiting until then infers that any contact would establish a relationship with just him and I want a relationship with him and his family because I want to learn about him from his parents' perspective (as well as from him directly) and more importantly for him, I don't want to cause him any "me or them" issues.

While the letter is finally written and sent to them, waiting for a response won't weigh on me as much for the short term since my focus was on him, his gifts, his card and my note to him. I love him incredibly much and I am grateful that I am able to share a little bit about myself with him, including my love for him through a celebration of his birthday.

"got it together"

One comment my doctor made the other day (when I went for my physical) was about how she didn't bring up the adoption with me because I seemed to be "so together". Well, isn't that what we're supposed to do, chin up and move on? I told her I would have appreciated being warned that I may experience some [additional] feelings of grief and loss and/or issues with bonding since, once it was brought up, she clearly understood and acknowledged that it was a loss.

A month or so ago when my therapist sided with the adoptive parents after I asked her opinion of my drafted response to the Christmas Letter, I quickly stepped back into the "so together" role because the therapist clearly was not on my side. I have already spent 16 years thinking of their feelings and needs over mine, so I didn't need that little pep talk from her, thank-you-very-much. So when she suggested to me that I should just wait two more years since he'll be 18, I responded with the expected, "Yeah, I guess you're right," while thinking "well, there's another person who just reinforces my decision not to share my birthmother status with anyone who doesn't already know".

Check-up and Shopping

I had my annual check-up today, and my son came up. It was nice to talk about him, although of course things got trite. Afterwards, I met a friend for lunch before returning to work and fresh from having talked about him and with his birthday approaching, I had an urge to tell her about him. But I didn’t.

After lunch I went and bought his birthday gifts. He likes a variety of music according to M's Christmas Letter, so I bought two of my favorites – music I liked as a teenager and I still like: Billy Joel and Simon & Garfunkel. Besides the fact that I like them now and I liked them then, they both have connections to the place where my son is growing up.

And then I did something I've never done before. I called his birthfather and told him what I bought our son. Of course I didn’t phrase it that way, but I got a chance to reach out and talk to somebody (other than the doctor) about my son today, and it felt good.