Posted: November 24, 2009 at 6:41 pm
Today is my youngest son’s birthday. We were enjoying lunch together, talking about our plans for the rest of the day. (A few errands, picking up the newspaper to see his birthday announcement, supper, time with daddy at the fire department for cake and presents and so on.) Then we got to talking about birthdays and my older son was adding a lot to the conversation.
We discussed how they both grew in my belly and how I gave birth to them on their birthdays.
N: So, I grew in your belly. And so did P.
Me: Yes you did.
N: And so did Munchkin.
Me: Yes she did. So, Munchkin is your…
N: Sister.
P: SISTER! (He repeats everything his brother said which is why his vocabulary is insane.)
We talked a little bit more about brothers, sisters and so on. My older son did ask if JD, Munchkin’s brother via her adoptive parents, also grew in my belly. It was a logical question considering what we had been discussing. When I said no, his eyebrows furrowed a little bit. I explained that JD grew in D’s belly and he was still Munchkin’s brother but not his brother. He gave me his, “Oh, yes yes,” that he does when something is obvious though I know he’s a little bit confused on that particular connection.
Confusion is okay with me as long as we keep discussing these things.
On a different note, I wrapped the Munchkin’s birthday present and one of her Christmas presents and sent them off with a Zhu Zhu pet yesterday. The Zhu Zhu Pet is for D to give, not me but it felt really great to help out in that way! (Yes, the boys both have Zhu Zhu pets as well.) It also felt great to send the gifts out early. It’s very difficult to stay on task and organized during this time of year. I feel proud. I feel as if I’ve done right by her.
It’s silly. I know that our relationship is not contingent upon gifts or mailing things on time. But I’d never stand for giving the boys their presents late. Why should I do any less when it comes to her? Perhaps its been an emotional block in the past. I do find it difficult to go to a store and shop for her, especially when it comes to clothes. I don’t know. Just glad to have gotten it almost finished early this year. Excuse me while I pat myself on the back.
Posted: November 23, 2009 at 2:23 pm
Life is made up of the little moments. I love when I catch those little moments and recognize them for their true worth. Sometimes a hug is more than just an embrace. Sometimes a passing glance is more than just the catch of an eye. Sometimes these small things are pivotal in our lives. All too often we don’t recognize them for what they are until they have passed and faded a bit in our memories.
Occasionally we recognize a moment for what it is and we watch our lives spin a bit.
The phone rang the other day. I never can find my phone when it rings, or, if I know where it is, I can’t seem to get to it before it ceases ringing as I’m busy tripping over construction vehicles, small figurines from Toy Story and children, all strewn about my floor. I picked it up just as the last few notes of the Peanuts theme song sounded and saw that it was D who was calling. I immediately returned the call. She answered and informed me that the Munchkin wanted to talk to my oldest son.
I probably don’t need to interrupt the story here and tell you that my heart soared. But I will. Because it did. While I present myself as a pretty confident birth parent, I have my fears and worries and doubts. Does she think of me? Does she think about her brothers? Do we matter to her at all? It’s harder, of course, when they’re very young and you’re just another face in the ever evolving door of their life. As they get older and begin to develop their own sense of self, the questions are answered in small spurts. While our relationship has been splendid for awhile now, this phone call was a welcome pick-me-up as we near the most difficult season of our separation. (Her birthday being just around the corner, smack in the middle of the holidays.)
I called my oldest son into the room and handed him the phone. The conversation was brief, my brand new four year old more interested in his new toys than in a lengthy conversation with the Munchkin. She wished him a belated birthday and told him a few things. He responded with a thank you and a few sentences before announcing, “I LOVE YOU,” handing me the phone and running off to his room to play with whatever had his attention in the first place. I talked with the Munchkin for awhile and then with D. Then my younger son said hello to Munchkin and we all got off the phone.
A lovely little moment.
The moment was prompted by the Munchkin remembering, in passing, that my youngest son had been stung by a bee earlier this summer. No one specifically told her. D was just telling M about it the way that couples talk when children are about; assuming they’re not listening. They do. Munchkin stored that information and pulled it out of no where.
She was thinking about us.
I don’t know why this particular phone call and the realization that she thinks of us has gobsmacked me in such a way but, really, I’m in awe. A good awe, of course, as it is always a lovely thing to realize that you are loved and thought after by someone that you love as well. Perhaps it is the fact that even though we’ve been through a lot of stuff, separately and together, as an open adoption family unit, something seems to have worked. She is secure in her everyday family. She thinks of us and is free to communicate with us. My children know and love her. I hesitate to call this scenario having “done something right,” because that’s usually when the other shoe drops but, yes, it almost feels that way.
Almost.
Posted: November 22, 2009 at 12:57 am
Okay, I’m not directly quoting Miley Cyrus. Almost but not quite. Apparently she’s in a new movie. I should stop right here to say that I’ve never seen anything she has ever done and only recently heard a song of hers for the first time. She’s kind of off my radar. That said, the television was left on after the nightly news ended and they were talking about her new movie on one of those celebrity type shows I normally avoid. I wasn’t really listening until I heard her movie dad (actor Greg Kinnear, whom I love which is why my ears perked up) say the following:
Sometimes you have to be apart from people you love but that doesn’t mean you love them any less. Sometimes it even makes you love them more.
I immediately pressed pause (yay DVR), opened this blog and began writing.
I’ve been avoiding the drama that Dawn has been enduring, so graciously, due to a great post that she wrote. I’ve been avoiding it because this is the time of year when avoidance is my only form of defense. As the holidays wash over us and the Munchkin’s birthday lands, splat, right in the middle of all of it, I just get emotionally overwhelmed with the absolute longing I feel when she pops into my mind.
I recognize that not all birth mothers feel the same. I acknowledge that as I know too many and have witnessed not only the difference in our individual experiences but in how we react to what we have both caused and been dealt. I won’t pretend that every birth mother feels the same. I will, however, state that if parents considering relinquishment were offered better counseling, those of us who deal with severe guilt, anger, regret and depression would have been a step ahead of the initial shock. Even those who dealt well with the loss associated with relinquishing could have benefited from better counseling. Until agencies are actively educating parents considering placement about the ins and outs of grief, the truth about what they might expect, we’re setting birth parents up for potential failure. Note the word potential because even though I didn’t receive counseling, I have succeeded. But, of course, you can read back over my archives or point-blank ask me as to the many failures I’ve had along the way. How much sooner would I have reached my personal place of peace if I had been properly counseled both before and after Munchkin’s adoption? That’s the question to ponder.
Anyway, yes, I’m missing the Munchkin right now. The boys are having their birthday party tomorrow. I wrote about how my older son’s birthday made me feel. Tonight I’m feeling mostly sad that the Munchkin won’t be running around the party with her brothers, bothering them when they blow out their candles and generally acting like a know-it-all older sister. It hurts my heart right now. I’ll be fine, of course, because that’s how I roll but, tonight, I miss her.
And that quote made me sad and not-so-sad all at the same time. I understand that we have to be apart. I understand my choices and my part in this process. And I understand that I love her more than most people will ever be able to accept or understand. But the truth is that, tonight, logic and such aside, I miss my daughter. I just do.
