I’m going to write about regret. Put your hip-waders on because it’s gonna get deep in here.
From dictionary.com, the definition of regret:
re·gret
( P ) Pronunciation Key (r
-gr
t
)
v. re·gret·ted, re·gret·ting, re·grets
v. tr.
- To feel sorry, disappointed, or distressed about.
- To remember with a feeling of loss or sorrow; mourn.
v. intr.
- To feel regret.
n.
- A sense of loss and longing for someone or something gone.
- A feeling of disappointment or distress about something that one wishes could be different.
- regrets A courteous expression of regret, especially at having to decline an invitation.
The word regret when used in the adoption world is often met with looks of horror and followed by hushing sounds. One shouldn’t talk of regret in reference to placing! After all, shouldn’t birthparents be grateful that their child has x-thing or lives in y-place or goes to z-school? However, looking at the simple definitions of the word, regret is not such a big and scary thing. Let me dissect it. Oooh, dissection definitions. This is right up my alley.
In the verb form we have: to feel sorry, disappointed or distressed about. Well, crap. I feel sorry on a daily basis. I’m sorry I wasn’t who I needed to be when I needed to be that person. I feel disappointed in myself for, oh, many reasons connected to the placement. And distressed? Oh yeah. That’s what adoption does to me: distresses me.
And in the #2 definition of the verb: to remember with a feeling of loss or sorrow; mourn. Hello, definition, you explain exactly what I feel. I think this definition, right here, epitomizes how adoption regret works in my life. I remember everything (the placement, our moments together, the pregnancy) with a feeling of loss and sorrow. Yes, there were happy times. There are happy times. And happy times will come. But, at the same time, these happy times serve to remind me of things I could have had on a daily basis. I am constantly reminded of my loss; it’s salt in my open wound. I don’t really even want the wound to close: I thrive on seeing my daughter grow and change. But, shoot, ouch.
Moving on to the noun: A sense of loss and longing for someone or something gone. Whoa, Nelly. The whole part about the “longing for somone gone?” Yeah. That’s me. I miss my firstborn with every ounce of my being. On a daily basis. I see little girl clothes and I think, “I would have dressed her in that.” When BigBrother coos at me, I think, “What did Munchkin say at this age?” And I long to hold her. And cuddle her. And stare in her eyes that look like my own.
Defintion number two under noun: A feeling of disappointment or distress about something that one wishes could be different. Oh, the whole “wishes could be different” part just screams my name. I feel cheated. I curse out my kidney on a regular basis for causing me to be on bedrest and thus forcing me into the financial situation which left me with, basically, no other option. Yes, I wish things were different. I wish I would have had a healthy, uneventful pregnancy. I wish I could have parented. I wish, I wish, I wish.
And so, there it is folks: this Birthmom’s regret. It wasn’t big or scary was it? I didn’t offend anyone. I didn’t make anyone uncomfortable. I just spoke of my sadness and my wishes. I am fully aware that I simply can’t change anything; things are the way that they are. I make the best of our situation. And I truly do enjoy some parts of it. But the sadness, the longing, the disappointment? The wishes? They’re all part of my being. My being now includes some regret. I don’t let it run my life. I don’t let it drag me down. But it’s simply a fact of who I am now.
And I will live with it.
4 Responses to “The Big Bad “R” Word”
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To feel sorry, disappointed, or distressed about.
A feeling of disappointment or distress about something that one wishes could be different.
Hi Jenna,
These are the two definitions that jump out at me. I feel regret for N. I am sure she feels enough, but I feel it for her anyways. This is a great post!
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I have no doubt whatsoever that I regret my decision! There is no question in my mind.
Most adoptive parents want to feel that the children they “got” were “destined” to be with them, that us birth moms gave them up willingly, because we wanted to, and that it was the right decision.
They do not want to feel as though they just “lucked out” and that they should really never have gotten our children. That doesn’t make them feel good. They want to feel “good” about the whole adoption and they want us to as well, dang it! They do not want us to have regrets; we are supposed to think that they are such exceptional parents that our children must certainly be “better off” with them. They do not want to believe that we are ever coerced or pressured; that makes them feel crappy. Not what they want.
Anything negative is too hard for some adoptive parents; they want all “happy”. Many adoptive parents care little about reality – all they want is sweetness and light. What mother in her right mind would not hurt, feel regret, pain and sadness about losing her child? Even if she is one of the rare ones where adoption really was the best option. It still hurts and causes regrets.
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I think there is a distinction between regret about the adoption in general (as in feeling sorrow, remorse, missing our kids) and regretting the actual decision to place (as in, I wish I hadn’t done it). I think it’s the second kind of regret that Cookie is talking about, that is so threatening.
I don’t know where you stand on that second part, Jenna, and don’t need to… But I know for me, when I say I regret it, I’m not saying that I regret the circumstances I was in, etc… I do actually mean that I wish I had not made the adoption decision, even given the circumstances at the time. So… I can see how that is threatening to adoptive parents, I guess. Still… it’s my feeling, and I won’t stop expressing it, because I want other women to know that we don’t all think we made the “best decision we could,” ya know?
Sigh.
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[...] the chapter is so long. And so heavy. And mostly overwhelming. Regret is often feared. Even though I’ve written about it before and how it’s not so big and so scary, people freak out when you talk about birth parent [...]
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