Holiday Grieving

Grief, I know many birthmoms who feel such debilitating grief during this time of year. Some people believe the pain fades away, but they are wrong. In the first few years my reactions to the pain were stronger, because the pain was newer and I had no skills to deal with it. In the same way that a strong smell is overwhelming at first, but as you sit in it you forget it is there. Only occasionally, when someone else comments on the smell, do you remember it was there. It's always there, always a part of the atmosphere, but you simply become immune to it's power over time. The amount of anguish I feel over missing the Holidays with my son has not diminished over time, as some would believe it has. I don't cry as often about it, that is true, and I have many more moments of joy than I used to. This is not because I have moved past it, it is only because I have felt these emotions so often that my reactions have changed. I certainly have a support system to turn to, and I also have more skill at looking through the grief to the happiness on the other side.

I love the Holiday season, I always have. I remember waiting impatiently for Christmas morning, shopping for my siblings and friends. Being so excited to see their reactions to my gifts. I can certainly find that excitement again, and I enjoy all of these things as I always have. With Cookie around, it's a little more easy to do, because I get to give her gifts and see her reaction to them.

I will confess, for a long while I have not sent Christmas and birthday gifts to my son. Some birthparents find a certain amount of relief in knowing their child will be able to get gifts from them. My enjoyment in giving has always been about seeing the joy that those gifts entice. I lost interest in sending gifts when I realized that I would not be able to see him enjoying them. I buy him things when we visit, and I love seeing him light up like that. Perhaps it sounds callous that I would not send anything, and maybe it is. I know my mom sends them gifts occasionally, and I know they don't expect gifts from me. Another problem the last few years has been my financial status, it's tough to get together the money for sending gifts when you are a single mom, or living on your own, surviving paycheck-to-paycheck.

This year things are different, so I made the resolve to send them something, even if it is something small. I sent them a picture already that Cookie colored for them. I also have a book to send as well. It's hard not to want to buy an entire store out for them, but I am taking it slow.

I know that this year will be just as hard as the last 7 have been, and I will miss seeing Dawson open gifts and participating in many other traditions. I will be able to experience those things with Cookie, and that is some help to me. I also know that A will be there to lean on when times get tough for me. I hope that those who are not part of the adoption world will understand a little better how these occasions can effect a birthparent. I also hope that birthparents out there will understand they are not alone. The sadness and grief are normal, and you will get through it. I wont give you false hope that this will go away, but I will say that it gets easier. I suppose that is the best we can hope for.

Aftermath

I think alot about those 3 days with my son, I'm sure that is why I write about it more often. I suppose for me that was the most important part. It's like I experienced those 3 days in high definition and I relive them over and over. I think part of me is afraid if I dont keep going over it I will somehow forget. Because of that fear I sometimes forget to tell the continuing story of our beautiful lives. I have a hard time focusing on the present or the future when my mind keeps wandering to the past. I dont know if that will ever really go away, but it does seem that it has gotten better over time. It has been about 8.5 years since that last moment with my son in the hospital. I have had the privilege of watching him grow and change into a little man with a heart of gold. I see him and his family as often as I can, usually about once a year. It always feels like I am recharging my batteries when I spend time with them. Then I slowly lose that energy as time passes and I have to wait for our next visit. Alot can happen in over 8 years. We have all had growing experiences, difficulties, pains and trials in that time.

First, let me tell you about my son's family. D is his Mom, she is beautiful and vibrant and strong, and I love her like a long-lost sister. G is his Dad, a warm and wonderful presence with an awesome smile, and I have the deepest respect for him. Last but not least is his sister C, she is the biological child of D and G and she is one of the sweetest young women I know. Together they make up an amazing family, sometimes when I watch them together I feel like they are in total synchronization. They seem to see eachother clearly, and are able to show their love for eachother in the small moments they have. It's amazing to be able to be a part of their lives. They have had their hardships too, but always seem to come out stronger in the end. Over the past 8 years they have had some great times, vacations and family trips that I got to experience through pictures. They have moved, found new hobbies, suffered illnesses and found learning difficulties with the little man (I wont go into great detail out of respect for them). Through all of the good and the bad they have stuck by eachother, supported one another and loved unconditionally. That is only from the little I know of their major events. I am sure they have plenty of day-to-day moments that make up the greater whole of the amazing family they have. I am proud to have the opportunity to be part of their lives, although I wont take credit because I think they were always meant to be part of my family.


As for me, I have had alot of life lessons over the last 8 years. After the break up with J. sometime in 2004, I dated someone else seriously for about 2 years. We got engaged in 2006 and then he pulled the plug on the relationship in early 2007. I had made the mistake of hanging all of my hopes and dreams on that one person. After it ended I sort of fell apart, and had a "nervous breakdown" (according to a psychologist I saw after the fact). It was an eye opener for me, to realize that I had allowed someone else to effect me to the point where I felt they were part of my identity. I took a step back, looked at my life and realized I hadnt had the chance to do much growing of my own, I had been too busy trying to be what other people needed. So when the opportunity presented itself to move out of state I took it. I moved almost 2000 miles away from my home town, to a state where I had very little family, and I struck out to make it on my own. I got to know my extended family in this area, through them found a great job, and worked to improve my life as I went.

For 3 years I didnt date anyone for more than a month or so, but in 2009 I found myself pregnant again. This time the father didnt even pretend to try to be there, he just dissapeared. I thought through my choices, my abilities, my maturity. I sought advice from family, friends, peers and counsellors. In the end I knew that I was a different person this time, older, wiser, stronger and more capable. I had the means and the ability to make this child a good life. This child was mine, and I felt that in a way that I could not deny. I worried alot, and questioned my choice every day to make sure it was the right one. It was only confirmed after they placed that baby girl on my belly and I looked into her face. Please dont misunderstand, I love my son just as much as my daughter, they are both little pieces of my heart that I cant imagine my life without. It was never a question of loving one more or less than the other. I chose for my son the best life I could offer, and I did the same for my daughter. The only thing that ever really bothered me was the lack of a father in her life. If I had known the path life would take me on I never would have agonized over that. My baby girl had no father in her life for about 6 months. During that time she and I bonded in amazing ways, but after that I met her "real" dad. We didnt know he would be her Dad, but now we all live in the same house and my daughter calls him Daddy. He is my boyfriend, A, and he is one of the kindest and most giving men I know. I feel lucky to have had this chance to see where my life would take me. I have been dependent, independent, emotionally broken, depressed. I've raised hell, grown up, made bad decisions, owned up to my mistakes and become a better person for it (I hope). Life has brought me twists I never would have seen coming, and each has been a learning experience. They say you have to break someone down before you can build them back up, and life has done just that to my heart. I dont regret a single moment of my life because each one has brought me to this point. I am happy, healthy, whole, loved and I have an amazing family. At no point in my life have I been more blessed than in the last year. I know there will be other hard times, other lessons to be learned. I also know that for now life is amazing, and I will always know that happiness is waiting for me at the end of the black times.

A happy ending for all, exactly as I was hoping it would be. My son has an amazing family and more love than a little boy could hope for. My own life has been blessed and all of us are in the places we are supposed to be.

Weighed, Measured and Found Wanting

"You have been weighed, you have been measured, and you have been found wanting." A Knight's Tale


This statement has stuck in my mind on many occasions. I realize that to a normal person hearing this may just bring to mind the movie reference, or a picture of Heath Ledger in Medieval garb (insert wolf-whistle here). For me it perfectly describes my own thought processes around the choice to place. Being "found wanting" for me has a double-meaning. Yes, I was lacking in knowledge, skill, maturity, financial security, etc.. but I also felt a desperate need (a want if you will) to give my child these things. As much as the statement seems to imply my lack of readiness, it also (IMHO) describes my desire for better opportunities for my son. He was the one person I could not live without, but also the only person who I was willing to give everything for.

I will not say the decision was an easy one, that would be an outrageous lie. I was dead-set to be the perfect mother for my son. I figured that where there was enough love it wouldnt matter how much money we had. I still believe that children born into poverty can become amazing individuals, and I do believe that love is a major need for all children. I also do not believe that my son would have ended up starving or unclothed with me. I know we would have had a community of family behind us. At first I was convinced that J. and I would get married, get jobs and have other children eventually. My little family would be perfect and all would be well with the world.

Unfortunately life is not the fairy tale I thought it would be and just because I had the capacity to be a mother did not mean I knew what was ahead for me. The first major turning point was the day I found out about J.'s infidelity. It was the first time I had been betrayed in that way and I had no idea how to deal with it. I never thought I would be one of those girls who clung to a boy to fulfill my life, and I knew that by forgiving him I was doing just that. I thought if I let go of him my dreams of family would be shattered. I couldnt deal with that. So I held on tight and tried to ignore the late nights, the lies and the mistrust. After a while it became habit, and even blatantly catching him didnt jolt me out of the illusion that he would change.

Then came the day when it was no longer just me being effected. One night J. was gone without a trace, I had no way to reach him and no idea where he could be. My heart pounded hard, and I may have been hyperventilating, I know I was crying. Every possible scenario ran through my brain, was he dead, stranded, lost, or was something more devious going on? I tried to sleep but couldnt relax, tried to watch a movie but couldnt focus. Early the next morning, after sleeping shortly, I woke up because the baby was doing cartwheels. I felt my stomach move furiously. Then stop completely. I was scared already, but tried to calm down and relax. I had pain in my stomach but thought it may have been from all that kicking. After almost 2 hours of no movement at all I told my mom we needed to head to the office of my CNM. We had called her at home and she encouraged me to come in right away, we were there less than 10 minutes after the office opened. Machines were strapped to me and my CNM checked my cervix. After about half an hour the baby started to move again and my CNM informed me I was having regular contractions. I was less than 7 months pregnant, but the stress was causing me to go into pre-term labor. I had already started effacing, and had to be given something to stop the contractions. I would be on bedrest for the remaining weeks of pregnancy, and would have to have periodic ultrasounds and visits with a specialist.

I went home with orders to rest and relax, and shortly after arriving home finally heard from J. He had been staying the night at a "friend's" who was female, but he claimed there was nothing going on and I was "being paranoid". I told him about the morning's excitement, and that I could no longer go to school. I think the fact that he was not there during this crisis finally drove home that the change I wanted would never be possible. I cried, and sat on my bed and tried to find the strength to call him back and say we were through. I felt weak and foolish, but I couldnt do it. So I talked to the baby, asked him what he wanted me to do.

I believed in God for alot of my life, but I also have a stubborn side that really needed freedom. Growing up in a religion with rules about pretty much everything, and being shunned by many after becoming pregnant, had given me a reason to step back from God for a while. For the first time in years I felt something I couldnt explain. I heard every piece of advice from every person who had asked if I considered adoption. My sister, my parents, friends, peers, and a counsellor/caseworker my parents had me going to. For the first time the idea took form in my head, and I didnt shove it to one side as usual. I thought about what life would bring in the next few years for me and my baby boy. Thought about separate houses, and parents fighting and coming to hate eachother. I thought about the strain on my own parents' finances, and how I would have to work and most likely quit school. I knew in my heart that J. and I would never make it together, we would tear eachother apart. Picturing my baby boy watching as his mother was disrespected over and over until she finally broke down and gave up on that future. Knowing the example his father would be, and the amount of time I would be away from him. It was like my life flashed before my eyes, and I knew that I couldnt bare all the dissapointment it would bring.

So, just for a moment, I tried on the choice. I would place him with parents who would love him just as I did, who would be together always and respect eachother. A father who knew that being a man was about the respect you can give others, and a mother who would have the heart and the experience to teach him about life. They would have fun vacations and holidays filled with laughter. Maybe I would be in their lives or maybe they wouldnt want that. It was like I could see their faces already, and I knew right then that this was not just something I was thinking about doing, but something I must do. It felt right even while my heart broke. I knew that if I chose his well-being over my own emotional needs I would never regret it. I WANTED these things for him. I had weighed and measured myself, and found myself wanting more for this child who I loved.