I’m in the process of broadening a friendship with a woman from church. She’s older than me (well, aren’t most of my friends?). In fact, she’s closer to my Mom’s age than my own. However, we’ve hit a bond. Not just the choir bond either, though she makes choir practice worth attending, even if you don’t sing.
Her daughter committed suicide sometime in the past seven years. (I’m only a year and a half into this church and it was before I came but sometime during our previous pastor’s stay so, sometime in the past seven years.) A few weeks ago at church, she came up behind me, moved the strap of my dress to reveal one of my tattoos and said:
“You remind me of my daughter.”
We then discussed a few things as we finished up morning practice and headed upstairs. It was the first time she had made an effort to share anything about her daughter with me. She shared her daughter’s desire for tattoos. (She committed suicide in her teen years so no tattoo.) She told me how she had pierced her nose and her ears, all the way up, with a thumbtack. (My nose was previously, as in up to a month or so ago, pierced.) She told me how when her daughter put plugs in her ears, she did to… and her daughter removed them. (Good tactic, eh? Love it.) She told me about her crazy hair colors, and I shared some of mine.
As I shared some of this with my Husband, he said that’s one of the reasons that we’ve been brought into the city (we previously lived outside of the city) and into this church (we previously attended a church outside of the city). I had been feeling it for awhile as well, that some bond was going to be created with this woman, but I didn’t know what or when or how or really why.
But things are coming together. We’re having lunch soon.
She really wanted me to have a daughter. She offered to come help paint the one wall pink. I could sense her own disappointment when we announced that we were having a boy. Not that she said anything; she ooh-ed and ahh-ed appropriately over the ultrasound photos. She’s still pulling for us to use her first name as LittleBrother’s middle name. (Probably not!) But I felt it.
And so, eventually, whether I discuss it over the first lunch to get it out of the way or whether I wait and have to explain it the first time she comes to my house, I’m going to have to say to a woman who has buried her daughter…
“I had/have a daughter… but I gave her away.”
And that really just doesn’t sit well with me right now. I feel selfish in missing her, especially with our degree of openness and how I can see and interact with my beautiful child. I don’t know how to appropriately communicate this to a woman who has lost a daughter who was also equally beautiful and special. I’m not sure what the appropriate rules of conduct are in discussing the similarities and differences of placement and death with someone who has experience death in, my opinion, one of the worst possible ways. I’m not sure how to handle the conversation at all.
I admire this woman’s heart, her acceptance of our youth and the issues that surround them (that include depression that her daughter fought) and her faith. I think I’d be crushed if I said something that offended her or made her feel worse.
But at the same time, I refuse to hide who I am when it comes down to one-on-one level of communication.
And so I sit at the cusp of this new friendship, knowing that I have things to offer her as a suicide-attempt survivor myself, and wonder what the right way to proceed should be. I think it would be different if she lost a son and I placed a daughter, or vice versa… but instead, this whole same gender things… it seems touchy to me.
She lost a daughter that she wanted desperately to save. So did I, but to the rest of the world, to those untouched by situations like this, it looks like I didn’t want my daughter. When the reality is that I would have laid down my life for her instead.
How to explain…
18 Responses to “Make New Friends”
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My name is Jenna. I blog here, 
Jenna, you just brought a tear to my eyes. I was enjoying your story and didn’t realize how blindly I was reading it until you brought the parallel of her losing her daughter and you placing Munchkin. How incredibly sensitive of you to not only make the connection but think about how you will proceed with this new friendship before you, wanting to be truthful to yourself and Munchkin, and to simultaneously be respectful of her loss.
Something tells me the right words will be there.
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Your post, as every post you’ve written is simply elegant. Profound. As a firstmom I have often pondered the death vs. adoption issue. Which is worse? If I could pick one, what would it be?? Morbid thoughts I know. Because I have an open “yet closed” adoption, I’ve often told those close to me that adoption is far worse than death. Far far worse. Like a death that you can never fully heal from. Like a death that relives itself every moment of everyday. After reading your post I’m open to the thought of death in new way. In reality relinquishment and death are both insurmountably and unthinkably difficult. It’s unfair to compare. I hope that your ‘new’ friend will and can see that you are woman who has endured a colossal loss and can therefore understand and comfort her in a way that others cannot.
Anoth topic that I’ve been meaning to mention:
I’d love for you dive into the emotion surrounding what it’s REALLY going to be like after you give birth for next and final (?) time. You mentioned that this is your last baby. My next baby will be the last I will carry within me. I know I will encounter some crazy wild turmoil after I give birth for the last time. MY sorrow surrounding my final birth will be directly related to my first birth. As irrational as it may sound, being pregnant brings me such great comfort. It’s like the opportunity to relive the moments I cherished most with my firstborn. Walking fertility… Such healing grace… Something to be thrilled about! I don’t know if I can even stand the thought of not being pregnant again. Evne thought I KNOW that future children can never replace my firstborn, mabye I’m living some pipe dream that screams… maybe this time!!! I have three now. I adore them. I’d have ten million more and it would never mend my heart.
This is the first time I’ve written a response… I thoroughly love your blog. Thank you for sharing your heart and soul!
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I think she will understand, perhaps more in depthly than others, despite that her life seems to be untouched by adoption.
She sounds like a wonderful, caring woman and the making of a good friend for you.
Hugs…
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“I had/have a daughter… but I gave her away.â€
But that is not what happened and not what you will be telling her. You will be telling her about your experience and your ultimate choice of placing your daughter for adoption. You didn’t dump her on a garbage dump somewhere, you made what you believed to be the right choice at that time. I have a feeling she will understand and not judge you.
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Twitter: thiswomanswork
says:
I have no words but this story was so moving and you have such compassion!!
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Jenna–
regardless how you’ve lost your children, you will be speaking the same language–the language of loss. Wishing you blessings on this new friendship. I bet you learn a lot from each other.
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I think this is the first time I’ve commented here though I read often.
I just wanted to say that I think, whether you know it yet or not, you have found the right words. And the way that you describe this woman, I think she will understand in just the right way.
Trust that and you.
And thank you so very much for sharing your story.
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with some people , conversations happen so naturally that it feels unnatural .
You do not need to write your conversation with her in your head.
Just follow your heart I think you have many common things to share.
I think you do not need to compare death vs adoption.
ı think may be you can talk about ” your unaccomplished dreams”.
” what you had hoped and what you needed to give up , and how you live it daily “
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You’ll find the words, Jenna.
And I think there’s a good chance she’s more likely than most to understand. If she’s made any progress at all in forgiving her daughter (which it sounds like she probably has), then she’s already had to “try on” what the feeling of complete and utter desperation feels like, in order to understand her daughter’s suicide. That’s likely to help her “get it” when it comes to understanding your adoption story.
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You’ll find the right time – together with the right words.
Thinking of you.
Poss. xx
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Jenna, she may understand more than you realize.Mothers who have lost children,normally have compassion for their sisters of loss.It is a club no one wants to be in.
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I don’t even know what to say because I don’t know you, but I was on Yahoo doing a search for birthmothers for the simple fact that I just found out I’m pregenat and I am giving this child up for adoption.
I do know that adoption is the most unselfish thing you can do, I know you had your reasons at the time and you should be proud that you gave your child to someone who could take care of her, if you couldn’t at that time.
I’m sure your friend will understand, Loss is the same reguardless of how you lost your child.
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After my husband and I divorced, I dated a man for six years whose eldest child had been killed in a car accident at age 21. When I told him I had lost a child, but in a different way, he did not see the connection. Perhaps, as a man, he couldn’t relate to a birthmother’s feelings of loss. Perhaps, he was, in general, someone who lacked empathy for others. Whatever, it caused very hard feelings. Therefore, I would suggest proceeding with caution.
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I love Magissa’s suggestion about talking about unaccomplished dreams. It’s so true and it avoids the direct comparison issue.
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Oh, Jenna.
I really think that this will be OK. I really do. You and this friend are obviously both faithful, God-loving, compassionate people. I seriously doubt that she’ll judge you in any way. She’s shared with you the most painful part of her life. I imagine she’ll be touched that you’ll share with her the most painful part of your life.
Try not to be afraid. Trust the friendship. Trust the fellowship that you both have in Christ. And if it helps, I’ll pray for this moment that you’ll have with her.
Love ya lots.
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I also think it will be ok. You obviously care about her and I think she cares about you, too. I bet she’d be honored to know something like this about you, that you trusted her with that information. I hope that whatever you decide it goes well.
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Jenna, I think, if she is the person you are showing her to be, she will embrace you after you tell her of Muchkin, and it will just be…OK. It really will.
People surprise me. I was so worried about telling my in-laws about K (only a year ago!), and they rose to the occasion with compassion, love, and grace. It sounds like your new friend has those same qualities in abundance.
My own prayers go with you. I know waiting to tell someone is worse than the actual deed.
Hugs.
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[...] coherence and severe pain. I was trying but I kept floating in and out. A friend of mine, whom I wrote about before, passed me a note. To bring everyone up to speed, I did tell her about the Munchkin’s [...]
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