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Wherein I Kind of Quote Miley Cyrus

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.