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I Can’t Escape

For those who were wondering, I was on vacation last week. While we did end up having (er, stealing) wireless internet access, I didn’t read any blogs. I didn’t do any work. I didn’t log on to the forums. I didn’t read any e-mail that was delivered to my work e-mail address which would be on the topic of adoption. I wanted to relax. Heck, I needed to relax. Things had been stressful, in my personal life and online, for a few good months. I needed to dig my toes into the sand and just let go.

So, I took three books. Because reading is part of my escape. And every. last. darn. book. Mentioned adoption in some way. The first talked about a teacher who adopted from China. Just briefly. A small part of a small paragraph. I was still annoyed. (By the way, I hated that book with every ounce of my being even though it’s by my favorite author. That book needs its OWN set of warnings about OTHER topics. EESH.) I knew that the second would probably mention in, given the topic, but was still somewhat annoyed at how the issue was handled. (Brief overview: one adoption is handled by paying off the birth family and thus buying the baby.) Fiction or not, that really got my blood boiling.

I didn’t even start the third book until we got in the car to drive home yesterday. I knew it would be somewhat touchy for me, hitting on the issues of mixed race children, but it was $3.99 at the store and I can’t pass up a good book bargain. The book, thus far (halfway), is amazing. But in the middle of my reading yesterday, as BigBrother talked to Blue’s Clues in the backseat and my Husband drove like a pro, adoption jumped out of the pages and smacked me across the face again. It’s not an integral part of the story; the main character’s cousins were adopted and look alike. That’s all that is mentioned. (I hope to finish this book today because it’s SO GOOD.)

And I wanted to throw the (well-written!) book out the window, along with the other two (library!) books, and scream, “WHY?!”

I needed an escape. I’m constantly, day in and day out, assaulted with the topic. I expect it when I’m on the computer, writing or working or reading blogs. When I’m not working and/or writing (basically, after 5pm),  it’s still there: everywhere! It’s on the news, and, of course, you know that it’s never in a good context when the media covers it. (Hey, I can diss on them; I WAS them.) It’s in commercials. Public service announcements. It’s in sitcoms and dramas. It’s in the newspaper. It’s in magazines. It’s in the books I read. I think adoption may be hiding under my bed.

This is not to say that I didn’t miss the Munchkin on vacation. I e-mailed and chatted with D just about daily (though all briefly as the beach is just, mmm, lovely). I dropped a (well-timed!) call to see how things were going. I bought Munchkin a shirt (that matches the one that I bought for myself!). But those things? I don’t need an escape from. D? Munchkin? And the rest? Are part of who I am and want to be. They’re my reality. They’re family. They just are. Plain and simple.

It’s the side stuff. The stuff that doesn’t necessarily have a direct impact on how we live our life as a unique family unit. The opinions. The comments. The disregard and disrespect. I wanted away from it. And it followed me. And, to be honest, it really made me angry.

Obviously, the anger there is something to discuss with the therapist at my next appointment. It’s not the author’s fault that she included two sentences about adoption, written without judgment or opinion. Just a statement kind of sentence. The author didn’t know that four years after she wrote the book, some overwhelmed-with-adoption birth mother would be attempting to vacation without thinking about the adoption world at large. It’s not her fault that I’ve often and willingly chosen to put myself in the thick of things. It’s not her fault that I, often times, can’t simply say, “No. This is too much.”

That said, our vacation was lovely, book topics aside. I did get to relax. I did enjoy myself, my family and the beach. I am certain that it was 100% necessary. I feel like a new woman, a new wife, a new mother and a new friend. (Minus the long drive yesterday.) But man, I think books need to come with warnings, just like albums with explicit lyrics:

WARNING: THIS BOOK CONTAINS X-NUMBER OF REFERENCES TO ADOPTION. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.

I’m just tired of being caught off guard.