Motherhood » The Chronicles of Munchkin Land

Let’s See How Far We Go!

Adoption, in General, Lyrics, Motherhood, Visits 5 Responses »

Jan 042009

My oldest son love the song “How Far We’ve Come” by Matchbox 20. It’s got that driving beat that lets him dance quickly, spin in circles and generally be busy. It also has easy to remember lyrics which he sings into his thumb-microphone. But, he doesn’t sing it as the lyrics are written.

He does not sing:

Let’s see how far we’ve come.

He sings:

Let’s see how far we go.

My husband and I fall all over ourselves with the absolute cuteness of that mis-sung lyric. In fact, we’ve started singing it his way rather than the right way. One day last week, we all (including my youngest son) were bebopping around the kitchen with the song blaring in the background, dancing and singing, at the top of our lungs, “Let’s see how far we GO!” Memories like these, of course, are what make being a parent so awesome. Someday he will deny ever having liked us enough to act like a fool in the kitchen. But then one day maybe he will be blessed with children equally as awesome and will get to bebop around his own kitchen singing the wrong lyrics. And maybe he’ll say a silent thank you.

Memories, however adorable, aren’t really the point of this post.

I’ve been thinking a lot about 2008 the past few days (like the rest of the world). It was a difficult year in many respects. Speaking specifically of our open adoption, it was a year of adjustment, a year of difficult communication and a year sorely lacking in visits. This falls at the feet of the lot of us and not just one person or “side” of the triad. We were all dealing with our own very complicated issues that needed a lot of attention. By the end of the year, however, I think we found ourselves in a place that was similar to the comfortable relationship of past years.

In fact, for me, I’m cherishing moments and the “little things” a bit more. Knowing how busy life can be with two children, I am fully aware of the effort that Munchkin’s Mom puts in when she makes any time to include me. I mean, have you seen my laundry pile lately? Good grief. Furthermore, having been through some rather silent months (for lack of a better term), I now fully recognize how any contact is better than no contact.

All the same, referencing the original song lyric, I think I prefer my son’s lyrics better.

Looking at how far we come, I can appreciate the hard work we have put in to overcome some difficulties. I recognize the times that we have faltered in our relationship and respect the work that was done to fix those issues. But, at the same time, I want to have the outlook that my son has…

I want to see how far we can go!

What will 2009 bring for us? With a visit planned for later this month, I can tell you that it will bring smiles and laughter and likely fights amongst children. But other than that, I don’t know what 2009 holds for us as an open adoption family.

But I’m so excited to see how far we go. So excited.

Expanded From My Journal: The Concept of Mine

Adoption, in General, Birthdays, Motherhood, Postpartum Depression 4 Responses »

Nov 182008

I wrote this last night as I reflected about motherhood on the evening of my oldest son’s third birthday.

At this time, 9:35 on the third year of his birth, we were relaxing into our huge suite. My Husband was showering and I was spending some time alone with the little baby that was my newborn son. His eyes were mine. His face was mine. He was mine. I remember being overwhelmed with that concept, the concept of mine. I had gazed in eyes that were mine before but the child, herself, had not been mine in the end. And to look at him and know, without a doubt, that he was coming home with me was so amazing… and so scary… that my breath caught in my throat and my heart stopped and time stood still.

That feeling of “mine” still strikes me from time to time. I’ll be doing something very grown up and motherly and I’ll stop and think, “Wait? This is my life? These are my children? When did this happen?” In those moments, I realize that these two little boys are, in fact, mine. I am their mother, their mom, their mommy. I make the decisions. I soothe the boo-boos and hurt feelings. I plan the birthday parties and pay for the overly expensive cake. They rely on me for everything. At night I tuck them into their beds. And in the morning they wake me long before I’m ready.

It took me some time to grow into that after my oldest son was born. Perhaps it takes all parents some time to adjust to that reality even if they have never relinquished a child for adoption. I’ll never be able to personally attest to the differences because I can only live the one reality. I do believe, however, that I had more panic over someone taking him, especially while we were in the hospital. When he was taken in the morning for tests, I kept staring at the clock. I asked my nurse when he was coming back. My heart was tight in my chest. When they brought him back, I could finally breathe again. I didn’t want others to hold him (except for my Husband whom I trusted to give him back). I believe some of that fear attributed to that bout of postpartum depression. I was so fearful and anxious that something would happen to take my child away.

All the same, here I am, three years later. Another boy later. Another mine later. And I’m still caught off guard by all of it at times. I’ve been entrusted to raise these two boys. To help them learn to be great men. And the whole idea of it is so big and large that sometimes I feel just as overwhelmed as I did when I was making my decision to relinquish. What makes me think I’m a good enough parent to do any and/or all of this? I get into this cycle of self-doubt, pointing out any time I’ve lost my patience or forgotten to brush their teeth in the morning or generally dropped the ball as a parent.

And then I remember that all parents are human. We’ll raise these kids up just fine.

Somehow.