Call them resolutions, commitments, changes, or choices–how will you be proactive in the area of open adoption in 2010?
As always, I have some things in mind that involve being proactive about promoting awareness and acceptance at the same time.
Well, as Dawn said, we’re writing a book. So, there’s that.
I’ve also been put in charge of the adoption group discussions at BlogHer for awhile in hopes of kick-starting the conversation. While this seems like nothing overly important or huge, I’d present the argument than Dawn uses whenever she’s defending me (thanks, Dawn). I’m talking about adoption on a mainstream site. People don’t go to BlogHer to research adoption. They hit the big adoption sites when they’re researching adoption, placement or other things. They go to BlogHer/etc for other reasons. If they learn something about adoption in the process, hooray! While the group itself will likely gather those specifically touched by adoption, the links sent out by the site will bring in others. This is a good thing, of course.
Blogging both here, the family blog and, really, just about everywhere. Do you realize the power you have to make people think simply by posting something you’ve written about adoption on twitter? I’ve had people read things that they never would have otherwise read simply because I shared the link on twitter. Gosh, I love twitter.
And, really, just mostly living the life that we live. I do have two blogs and some have accused me of doing so to filter my daughter out of my mainstream life. But I write about her on the family blog. I tweet links to this blog on my twitter account. I post pictures that aren’t filtered (other than not being public) on Facebook. If asked questions, even by new coworkers, I provide direct answers. I don’t remove pictures on my wall when people are coming. I just live my life. Part of who I am is a birth mother in open adoption. Others see that when they interact with me. And, really, that’s a good thing, too!
I don’t imagine that I’ll make the entire world realize that open adoption a) isn’t bad, b) isn’t great, c) needs reform, just by doing these things this year. Some people will refuse to listen because of their own beliefs and the existing stereotypes against birth parents. Some people will be unable to listen, deafened by their own agendas. Some people won’t know to listen, living blissfully unaware in their own ignorance. And some people won’t care, finding that these issues don’t affect their family or their own lives.
But I’ll keep on doing what I do because I can’t imagine not doing what I do. I’m hopeful that 2010 will bring great things in my own personal open adoption relationship as well as in the work that I continue to do. No, let me rephrase. I’m not hopeful. I’m confident.
The holidays are hard for me to even bother considering right now, this week, as the Munchkin’s birthday looms heavy on the horizon. These two topics, birthdays and holidays, are so deeply twined together in my psyche that I wonder if I can fully separate them or, really, if I ever want to do such a thing.
The Munchkin was due on Christmas Eve. I worked so hard to keep her safe and healthy until 38 weeks, 2 days when she was delivered at a healthy 7 pounds, 9 ounces. It snowed that night. The maternity ward was decorated for Christmas. The first pictures I received of the Munchkin were of her with her new family, celebrating both her birth and the holidays. No, I don’t think I can separate the holidays from her birthday.
I sing every Christmas Eve at our church. It’s part of who I am. It’s what I do. I don’t know why as the added stress always ends up making me sick by Christmas Eve, thus making my voice sound hoarse. But I do it. I’ve been practicing my song this week. I can’t sing the last verse. Or, rather, I can’t sing the last verse without tears coming to my eyes and my heart doing a strange contraction-explosion thing. I’m singing “A Baby Changes Everything,” recorded by Faith Hill. (I am not pretending to be Faith Hill. Ever.) If you are not familiar with the song, you should have a listen.
(Weirdly, I’m wearing red and black on Christmas Eve. I’ve never watched this video. Weird.)
The song itself concludes with this beautiful gem:
“My whole life was turned around
I once was lost but now I’m found
A baby changes everything…
A baby changes everything.”
And I plan to sing this on what was her due date, six years later. Sometimes I sign myself up for these really spectacular challenges of faith and peace and healing, don’t I? Nothing like forcing myself into a public place and putting my heart out there for all the world to see. I didn’t even really understand all I was signing up for when I chose this particular song. It fit my range. It was Christmas-y. The lyrics were pretty. Then I began practicing. Then I began crying. Such is my life, I think.
So, you see, I can’t really separate the holidays from her birthday. I don’t think I’m meant to when I really think about it deeply. My whole life was turned around. A baby did change everything. In so many ways. In so many glorious, challenging, heart-breaking, encouraging, devastating, uplifting ways. She was my own little Christmas miracle, delivered to me a little bit early. She will always remain that in my heart.
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.
