On Monday mornings, I go to a breastfeeding class. The class is free, taught by a lactation consultant and allows overly neurotic Moms like me to weigh their babies. (Little Brother is up to 8lbs, 6oz.) I go in a few minutes early each week because my anxiety doesn’t want to let me show others his weight in case it isn’t a great gain. (The past two weeks he has had a ten ounce gain in seven days. You think I would let my anxiety go a bit but, well, no.) With that information, I offer some back story about last week’s early arrival.

I got there about ten minutes early. I was there first. So, the LC and I are talking about Little Brother’s awesome weight gain, his cloth diapers, my awesome ring sling that I was wearing. And she asks about my “kids” at home. I dodge the question a bit and talk about Big Brother being two and so on. A few minutes later, she asks the name of my other child. Without access to my entire file (which mentions the adoption), she just sees “three kids.” And so, I muster up my courage and state that my first born, Munchkin, was placed for adoption at birth. I avoid eye contact, unsure of where the conversation is going to go. She then informs me that she is adopting from Ethiopia. She asks if our adoption is open, which I say yes to, and she says how great that it and so on. We talk a bit more (they’re waiting for their referral in the next month or two) and then Little Brother pooped and we went back to talking about cloth diapers.

Fast forward to this week.

After “class,” which wasn’t really this week because no new babies were present so it was just a bunch of Mommies sitting around talking and feeding babies, another Mom asked the LC about the adoption. And a WHOLE big discussion on the subject launched. I was standing with Little Brother in the ring sling, swaying back and forth so he was comfortable, and avoiding eye contact like mad. Even with the LC though I could tell she looked at me once or twice to see if I was okay with where things were headed.

Thankfully, no one said anything overly stupid. My Favorite Breastfeeding Class Mommy (FBCM) told a story about how family friends had just adopted a newborn in an open adoption at the same time that her son was born (who shares Little Brother’s name!) and she commented on how hard she imagined it would have been for the mother who placed (she used the word mom & mother, never birth mother). (She said the Mom was a senior in high school.) Then another Mom told a story about how her friend was adopted and didn’t want to know his birth parents. To which the LC countered with, perhaps for my benefit, that since said friend didn’t have kids just yet, perhaps he’d change his mind if only for health records for his genetic line later in life. The conversation went on for a good fifteen minutes and I never spoke up.

I wanted to.

I wanted to be a voice.

I wanted to give a face to mothers who place for whatever the reason.

But there are days that I just want to be “normal.” I just want to be a “Mommy” without a determiner in front of my name. I just want to talk about breastfeeding and crazy nights and clothing sizes and pumping and crazy two year old antics and so on. I just want to be.

And then I left and felt guilty, of course.

But, truth be told, if any of those mothers become real friends, they’ll be introduced to the Munchkin’s existence when they come to my house as her presence can’t be denied. I’m not always emotionally able to put myself on that line. I had done it the week before. But I wasn’t able to today. Ups and downs. I’m not always perfect when it comes to this topic.

I’m just not perfect.

That said, my LC is adopting an older child (girl) from Ethiopia, not a newborn. And again, she got cooler in my book. Because she went on about how openness really makes a difference for adoptees and their families. She came up to me as Little Brother and I were getting situated in his sling and my coat to say goodbye. In my mind it was to look me in the eye and reassure me that my presence was wanted again next week. But maybe she just wanted to share loves with my cute baby. Either way, I am thankful for her presence.

But man. I hope we don’t launch into adoption rhetoric every week. Even though nothing derogatory was said (even on the “brave” or “selfless” side of commenting which was shocking!), it’s just really hard to sit in silence and weigh the pros and cons of speaking up.

I really hate this kind of thing.