Posted: December 3, 2009 at 3:25 pm
I was knee deep in Christmas decorations when the phone rang on the day after Thanksgiving. I recognized the ringtone as the one that belonged to D and I flung myself across the room, tangling myself in lights and garland on the way. I answered the phone expecting to hear D’s voice.
It was the Munchkin.
She told me that she had watched the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade the day before and had seen my oldest son’s favorite Toy Story character as a BIG BALLOON and she wanted to tell him. Melt my heart. Except that he wasn’t home. My parents had kept the boys as both FireDad and I worked (fire department and newspaper respectively) on Friday. I felt bad but she took it well.
Anyone who knows my oldest son knows that he wishes he could be Buzz Lightyear. He runs around our house exclaiming things like, “TO INFINITY AND BEYOND,” while lasering his little brother. It’s just part of who he is right now.
And the Munchkin knows that.
We have had visits this year. Three, to be exact. And one was without the kids. But she remembers. She thinks of him, of us. She knows what he likes, what moves him right now. And she thought enough to give him a call. I don’t even call my brother when I see something that he likes. Mainly because he annoys the bejeebus out of me and buys my children obnoxiously loud toys but, you know, I do still love him.
I’m just so moved that she would think to call him over something like this. She’s an amazing little girl. Amazing.
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 19, 2009 at 3:43 pm | Tags: Birthdays, Open Adoption Roundtable
A large number of questions have been posed regarding the topic of birthdays and open adoption for this installation of Open Adoption Roundtable. As soon as someone mentions birthdays in relation to the subject of open adoption, I’m instantly transported to Munchkin’s first birthday party. I was so young (relatively speaking) and so inexperienced with being a public birth mother. It was an emotional disaster.
To the questions:
What do you/your family do to integrate open adoption and birthday celebrations?
Not as much as we used to do. That comes with the fact that Munchkin is now in elementary school and, as such, can’t miss school on a whim. Driving out here for the boys’ birthday party isn’t really an option as, most often, it falls on a Sunday. Similarly, I haven’t made it out for the Munchkin’s birthday party in a few years due to scheduling conflicts. My Christmas concert regularly falls on her birthday. While our concert has been canceled this year, she’s heading off to Disney World for her birthday (WOO!) so I won’t be with her this year either. We send gifts as time and money allow. It works for us right now.
What do you wish you would see in future birthday celebrations re: involvement with your child’s adoptive parents/birth parents?
Would I love to be with the Munchkin on her birthday? Yes! Would I love if the Munchkin was with the boys at their joint party or even on their individual birthdays, one week apart? Yes! Do I understand that time, distance, work, life and scheduling don’t permit for that year in and year out? Most definitely. If I’ve learned anything by parenting these two children while working full time from home and part-time in the office now and dealing with my husband’s erratic-but-stable-at-the-same-time fire schedule, it’s that you can’t always make plans work for everyone. I have people in my family who are currently angry with me because I didn’t send out the invites (that I made) for the boys’ joint birthday party. I had the swine flu followed by a respiratory infection and was out of commission for twelve days. So sue me. I’ve learned through life lessons such as that one that things aren’t perfect even when you try to plan for them to be. Life goes on.
Do you have an open adoption agreement that requires contact on/around birthdays? [Combined with:] How does that agreement affect you? Do you wish it were different? Do you wish that you did have an agreement that requires such contact?
No. Legally binding open adoption agreements don’t exist in Pennsylvania, the state in which I relinquished. That said, I have far more than yearly pictures and letters so it’s not a particular disadvantage that we don’t have a standing agreement.
If you do not have contact around birthdays, do you do something private to honor birthdays?
Of course! I buy cupcakes for the Munchkin’s birthday, just like I buy cupcakes for the boy(s) to take to school. And then I take pictures of them because that’s what I do! Here are last year’s cupcakes:
That said, I wish our concert was taking place this year. I find that I function better on her birthdays that we are apart when I am ridiculously busy. With nothing to occupy my thoughts this year, I’m nervous that it will be a difficult day.
We were also asked to share anything else that we thought was important. And so, here I go.
Her birthday is an extremely difficult day for me. It’s a day filled with flashbacks of labor, the horrid hospital experience and those first initial days of childless motherhood. My moods fluctuate greatly on her birthday and I am blessed with a husband who understands what I am going through and allows me to grieve as I need. I miss her, viscerally, on her birthday. And yet, at the same time, I find it so very difficult to be present on her birthday or attend her birthday parties. On the one hand, it’s great to be in her presence any chance I can get. On the other hand, taking a sideline as a non-parent at a birthday party for a child that is mine is a weird feeling. No, I’m not her mom. I am, however, the reason she’s celebrating a birthday. I am, however, active in her life and love her from tippy-top curl to the bottoms of her toes. It’s just weird to step back and watch everyone else celebrate and feel somehow disconnected even though I’m quite present.
I don’t cry all day on her birthday. I don’t hate the day. It’s just a difficult day. I celebrate her existence for she is, of course, the most awesome little girl on the planet. But on all of those core levels, things hurt. My heart is heavy. My mind is on overdrive. And I miss her so intensely that physical parts of my being hurt.
Birthdays are probably the hardest day of my yearly adoption journey. And yet, at the same time, I welcome them for they mean that my beautiful daughter is another year older. It means that I’ve spent another year getting to know her in various ways. It means that I get to celebrate her presence in my life. I can ignore the general melancholy of the day for the most part if I know that my daughter has remained in my life for yet another year.
And perhaps that’s all that needed to be said.
