Jun 172009
 

Women are mean and nasty. I mean, with all the hub-bub on the internet about who is and is not working a legitimate job and still others attacking each other over whether or not selective reduction should or should not be allowed, it’s amazing that women manage to have any semblance of a friendship with one another.

This is the reason, of course, I have often chosen not to be vocal about my title of “birth mother” with those I am just meeting or, even more so, those with whom I went to various schools or camps with in our younger days. In case you didn’t read my first paragraph, that’s simply because women are mean and nasty. I don’t even think we mean to be in some cases; it just happens. Instead of dealing with their own emotional issues concerning a subject that touches them in some way, they project onto other women. It breaks my heart to pieces when I see other women tearing each other down for little to no good reason. But it happens. And so I often keep my mouth shut.

But I chose to open my mouth, nice and wide, concerning my birth stories. Still posted on Discovery Health’s website for Baby Week, I’m continuing to get an influx of random traffic. I’d be willing to bet many of those people hadn’t considered they’d be reading an adoption story to boot. But they are. While some bloggers have received 200+ comments, I’ve only received a few. No one ever knows what to say to a birth mother. Does my adoption plan with one negate all of my stories? Probably. Oh well. It doesn’t negate them for me and that’s what matters.

To make it all the more interesting, this is the year of my ten year class reunion. (Dear Dawn, no comments as to how I’m a baby.) As such, I’ve reconnected with a lot of old friends via Facebook. (Does anyone even use MySpace anymore? I’m considering deleting that account.) As I finally figured out how to make blog work with NetworkedBlogs on Facebook, quite a few of those old friends, people who didn’t know my adoption story, clicked on over and read about the births of all three of my living children. It could have turned out nasty.

They said the loveliest things. They warmed my heart. They renewed my faith that people without experience in the area can refrain from sticking their feet directly into their mouths.

To boot, my father-in-law brought it up at my oldest son’s t-ball game just yesterday. He mentioned the picture of all three kids together and said, “She has your smile.” An acknowledgment of such a thing by someone who didn’t have to acknowledge any of it made my heart fill with pride. And, you know, she does have my smile.

I ramble like this because I’m starting to care, less and less, what other peoples’ opinions are regarding our adoption story. I don’t really rejoice when someone says something nasty to me but I’m learning how to let it roll off my back. There are those who don’t like our story for one reason or another. Perhaps we just make them uncomfortable or bring up issues that they don’t want to deal with on their own time, much like some of the current arguing on the internet. I know, simply by existing, our family has made others question their own decisions. But that’s no my problem nor my responsibility.

And I’m learning to be okay with that fact.

 Posted by at 1:36 pm
Jun 112009
 

I thought that since I had linked readers of my birth stories for Discovery Health’s Baby Week (see me?) over to this blog, I might want to say a few things. I’m sure some might think, “Well, you gave birth to her and gave her away, what else is there to say?”

Apparently 605 posts worth. With this, 606.

The decision to place my firstborn was not one that I made lightly. I did make it, however, without all of the information necessary to make a fully informed decision due to an agency with no concern about my rights, my daughter’s rights or the ethics that should be involved in adoption. I do believe (or, maybe, I have to believe) that, in the end, everything is working as best as it can work. The truth remains though that for birth mothers and fathers who have chosen the route of open adoption, the story doesn’t end when everyone leaves the hospital.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m not her everyday Mom. I don’t rush her to the emergency room or sit by her bedside when she is severely ill with pneumonia. I don’t get rewarded with kisses at bedtime every night or hugs every morning. I don’t have to make the tough decisions or the tough calls, present and yet to come. But I do have a place in her life. Ask her and she will tell you.

She doesn’t call me mom or mother, though she’s tried it on for size. She calls me by my first name. She uses the term birth mother when talking about how she came from my belly as she does on occasion. She has no confusion as to who her “real” parents are just as she has no confusion about who her future stepdad is in her life. Or her grandparents. Or her many different brothers, the “half”-brothers brought to her by myself and my husband included. She simply has a lot of people to love her, to encourage her and to reassure her that she was always wanted, always loved.

I have moments and pangs of sadness, frustration and everything else. However, I’ve also reached a level of peace. I brought a little “get-over-myself” into my life and have been really enjoying the ride as of late. I still will fight for ethical adoption reform. I will still push for adoptees to gain access to their Original Birth Certificates. I will still speak for those who are, all too often, refused a voice in the public conscience. But I’m not going to let the nay-sayers who need to believe (for whatever their own personal reasons are) that I don’t have an important role in my daughter’s life move me back to a negative place. I’ve been there; it’s no fun. I prefer this place. It’s not all rainbows and butterflies but it’s not gloom and doom either. It’s a nice environment (not too hot, not too cold) with the occasional rain storm. And, therefore, maybe just a rainbow or two.

I’m confident in the many roles that I now serve in my life. I am a pretty darn good wife even if my house is messy. I am a pretty darn good everyday mom to our two sons even if their toys are still strewn about after bedtime as I work on this blog post. I am a pretty darn good writer even though sometimes I misspell words and scramble for deadlines. I am a pretty darn good birth mother even if the rest of the world wants me to fade into the woodwork. And I like it all this way… maybe minus the mess. I really need to go clean.

But, a word of closing:

No, our story didn’t end the day that I gave birth to the Munchkin. Or the day that we all left the hospital and drove in separate directions. Or the day that I signed the Termination of Parental Rights. Or the day that I, once again, signed the same Termination of Parental Rights due to the ineptitude of the attorney involved. Or the day that the adoption was finalized. Or on her first birthday. Or any subsequent birthday. It won’t end that first time that she tells me she doesn’t like me and she’s glad that I gave her to better parents. It won’t end the first time she turns to me and says, “Thank you.” Even if, Heaven forbid, she cuts me out of her life at some point, the story won’t end. I will continue to live my life and make my decisions that have the best interest of all of my children at heart. That includes living my life in the best possible manner in hopes that they won’t be too embarrassed by me well after the “oh-my-gosh-my-mom-is-a-loser!” phase passes. I promised to be available for life; I will be. I promised to love her for life; I have never once stopped.

Our story continues. It encounters changes. And then it evolves. Just like every other family.