01

Fiercely Protective

Friday nights are of a relaxed atmosphere over here. In fact, I’ve always been kind of chill on Friday nights, preferring Dateline to parties in college. That’s right. I’m a nerd and I always have been. Last night, my Husband was watching War Games (OMG! HA!) and I was catching up on a few magazines that I haven’t had time to read through yet. One of those was Redbook (July).

Of note: I have always read my magazines back cover to front cover. I don’t know why. I just do.

So one of the first pages I turned to was the end of the “Mom” section that each Redbook features. On a sidebar was a quote from Marcia Gay Harden. She’s a Mom to a ten year old and four year old twins (!) (and a spokesperson for a really great site that I’ll talk about on the other blog next week). Her quote made me dog-ear the page, nod my head and get kind of weepy all at once.

(Being a Mom made me…) Fiercely protective, like a lion. My top priority is keeping my kids safe. Mothering is a beautiful word and it doesn’t only mean making cupcakes.

Now I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that Harden didn’t mean to include me in her quote. But she did. The conception and subsequent birth of the Munchkin made me a Mother in every sense but the making of cupcakes. I did become fiercely protective. Her well-being was always my utmost concern, even as my own health was at risk during that tumultuous pregnancy.

Of course, that has also made me somewhat overprotective of my parented sons but I’m coming to realize that while I shouldn’t smother my kids, being protective isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Finding that balance, of course, is difficult but I’m learning. (I mean, I’m letting my oldest go to preschool in the fall even though it gives me heart palpitations! AH!)

What I’m trying to say is that I’ve been this way, fiercely protective, since I knew the Munchkin would be joining the world. All during the time in which I planned on parenting, I felt like I was guarding her from the evil of this world. Once I became ill and began making an adoption plan, the mothering feeling didn’t magically dissipate. And it didn’t just go away the moment that she left my body. In fact, I felt it in a much stronger way. While I don’t drive her to dance class or watch her like a hawk as she plays on the playground now, I still feel it in my soul. I’d give my life if it meant saving hers, just like I would do for both of my boys.

All this said, I make a mean cupcake. Just ask my oldest.

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Sad, Sad Times

A birth mother friend of mine from the Baby Scoop Era was recently verbally assaulted via e-mail. She shared the contents with me and I was absolutely flabbergasted. She was cussed at and insulted. There was no respectful tone, no wish for understand dialogue. All of this, mind you, was delivered unprompted. Just a fabulous random attack from someone on the internet hiding behind the guise of anonymity.

The best part? Once she finally let my friend know her true identity, it turns out that this woman, who said horribly awful things about birth mothers and young parents in general, apparently runs an adoption agency and counsels young pregnant mothers.

Every time I hear of something happening like this, I think back to my “counselors” at the agency through which I placed. I was initially shocked that they had such little care for me but… every time something like this happens, I am just further made aware that the majority of those working to help place babies have little respect for the mothers who are possibly relinquishing.

It breaks my heart. While I know I’ll never get an apology from my agency, I wonder sometimes if they have any guilt at all. Did they care that they lied to me? Why did they pretend that they didn’t know open adoptions weren’t legally binding in my state? Was it to cover their own rear ends or to make me hopefully not be angry with them so I wouldn’t speak out? Or are they so used to giving half-truths and blatant lies to expectant mothers that they don’t even notice or care anymore? Are they that jaded?

I don’t know the answers. But I think it stinks that people like these are causing people like me, generally positive people, to lose faith in humanity in general. What happened to respect for another and their journey? What happened to wanting to learn from another’s experience, even if your opinion differs? What about the internet gives people big, strong finger muscles that lets them type things they would (hopefully) never say to someone’s face?

10

Thoughts on This Month’s Package

I just finished packing up the Munchkin’s June package.

Contents: a card with the normal note of what everyone has been doing, a picture of each of the boys, a small note to explain that the coloring book is from The Husband Man and an ambulance/emergency coloring book. Nothing spectacular, of course, but just another month where I did what I felt I had to do. Let me rephrase: what I felt was right by the Munchkin.

I find it difficult to pick pictures of the boys each month. (This month I have my youngest son sitting up outside, smiling very big, because he was not sitting up unassisted in May. My older son’s picture is a shot of him wearing his Daddy’s new motorcycle helmet as that is also a new “thing” in our lives. Joy fun!) I take a billion pictures every month. It’s hard to pick just two. I always write their names on the back along with the month and year.

My therapist asked me a question during my last session when I mentioned that the picture I sent of the boys in May was one of the two of them on Mother’s Day. She said, “Do you ever send pictures of yourself?”

Well, no. And I have plenty of excuses! Let me list them off for you, Therapist Lady!

1. I’m the photographer in the family. Pictures of me are rare.
2. These darn hormonal fluctuations have my skin looking hideous and, therefore, even when The Husband Man does snap a picture of me, I am not willing to share it with too many other people.
3. I don’t change much from month to month.
4. The boys are way cuter and way more interesting, don’t you think?

And while #1 is a really valid point, there are some tolerable pictures of me every month. But the real reason, of course, comes down to the fact that almost any picture of me that is presentable features one or both boys as well. I feel weird, to be downright honest, sending a picture of me smiling and holding my boys to the daughter that I placed for adoption. To me it screams, “See! We’re happy without you!” It’s not that we’re not happy. Sure, my youngest is teething now and that is super unhappy but we are a happy family. But that’s not because she’s not here.

It gets all jumbled in my head.

I thought about the things Therapist Lady said that day, about how I should be including pictures of myself as well. But I didn’t do it this month, even with a week to digest her points having passed. It just doesn’t feel right.

Anyway, it’s all sealed up now (meaning you can’t talk me into it! HA!) and ready to be dropped at the Post Office when we head out to run some errands this afternoon. I feel pretty good sending it before the verylastday of the month. In fact, I had the note written very early this month so I need to remember to mention my youngest boy’s new tooth (which will probably be teeth by then) in July’s note.