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Just Like Every Other Family (But with More Awesome Added)

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.