Never Forget the Invisible Mothers

Maybe Mother's Day weekend would be a bit more bearable if it weren't so commercialized. Maybe it would be easier to navigate if every talk show, advertisement, and radio segment wasn't discussing it. I guess in the end it all comes down to the fact that it would be easier if I could hug my baby on Mother's Day. Or if I could do her hair, paint her nails, or color with her on Mother's Day...or any day of the week, really.

The entire "holiday" is such a catch-22 for me - as I can imagine it is for other birth moms (or natural moms, or first moms, or whatever you may refer to yourself as. I personally prefer 'mother,' no adjective or qualifier necessary, but society seems to require an extra word to be able to differentiate). It's hard to be a mom in your heart and be a 25 year old childless woman on the outside. I'm still new to this. This is only my third Mother's Day. And while enjoy a day where I can celebrate motherhood - because, yes, I am still a mother - it's also gut-wrenching to say the least when I can't celebrate it in the way I want to. I can't celebrate it by taking silly pictures with my daughter or hanging her little scribbled pictures up on the wall. Her father isn't going to make me breakfast in bed while I snuggle with her. No, not at all. Granted, for the past two years he's given me a card, but it's far from the same. Mother's Day, like most other holidays as well as her birthday, are beautifully happy as well as painfully sad.

I'm grateful for the chance for this day to mean something to me. In my heart, I know I'm a mother and as tough as life can be sometimes, I thank God every day for her and I'm in awe that I am a part of her, as she is a part of me. What did I do to deserve playing a part in a beautiful, happy soul such as herself? Yet - as grateful as I am - this day is also torture. It's hard to escape. It looms everywhere, to the point where it's almost downright taunting.

The way I see it - I can look at it one of two ways. I can be bitter about the fact that another woman is celebrating and embracing motherhood with my child because I'm not, or I can look at it like my child is loved by two mothers; two mothers who reflect on the day in different ways. That being said, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't jealous that her adoptive mom gets to spend the day with her. In reality, it's just another day...it's just Sunday. It's only 24 hours, ten or eleven of which I'll be sleeping.

There's no black and white answer. One 'birth' mom will not always share the same views as another 'birth' mom. So let me say this: if you know someone - anyone - who has lost a child for any reason (adoption, death, estrangement, etc.), acknowledge that they might need a little extra TLC on Mother's Day. Or acknowledge that they may not. They may want to deny that the day even exists. Or maybe you could read this article. I've had friends who have come right out and asked me (and believe me, I appreciate the straight-forwardness) how they should handle Mother's Day when it comes to me. Should they wish me a Happy Mother's Day and therefore acknowledge my child, or should they just treat it like any other day, because they know it's hard for me?  If you know someone who is an "invisible mother," you aren't reminding them of something they aren't already aware of. Commercialized holidays such as this are everywhere. Chances are, you won't do any damage by saying "Happy Mother's Day;" in fact, they would probably appreciate the recognition. I totally understand why people feel as though they are on eggshells around birth moms or moms of children who have passed away. Personally, I don't mind either way. I do appreciate the gesture but I am not offended by it's absence.

Remember: being a parent means doing what's best for your child, even at the cost of your own happiness. So birth parents are parents no less than traditional parents. It's just a different kind of mother & fatherhood.

So when you think of the mother in your life who, for whatever reason, is no longer raising their child or sharing this day with their child physically, remember this:

                                                                              

and never forget the "invisible mothers."

"The weak can never forgive. Forgiveness is the attribute of the strong."

When will I be strong enough to forgive? I'm in tune enough to realize that holding onto anger and resentment is hurting me far more than it's hurting the people which I am angry toward. I just want to know when I'll acquire the strength needed to forgive. It's been over two years. Such a short time, but also such a long time. How do you forgive when the issue that you're so angry about is a recurring issue? How do you move past something that makes you angry when that "thing" is ever-present? What if it's not one simple action that angers you, but someone's constant choices and entire state of being that frustrates you?

I live every day of my life with anger in my heart. I don't want it there anymore. I never did, but now I desperately don't. I'm living in the past, in a constant state of anger and jealousy. Then I get to thinking about how the person I'm angry at isn't angry at all. Or at least he's never shown it. That fact alone gets me even more angry.

I got to Skype with my baby this past weekend (the 4th). It was my belated-birthday Skype date and it was simply amazing. Miss A is two and a half now...two and a half going on twenty. She speaks in full sentences and carried on a few conversations with me. It was surreal! Last time we Skyped, it was for her birthday, and she had a pretty diverse vocabulary but not many of her words strung together to make sentences. What a difference six months can make. Her hair is longer and curlier than ever, and she is already miserable when it comes to the maintenance of it (sorry little one, but that's your birth father's fault)!  It's so crazy to see her mannerisms 'live' and in real time. Her personality mimics mine in so many ways. She loves to draw and thinks she's a singer. Her mom told me that when they put her to bed at night, she's very quiet for a while and they think she's fallen asleep, but then they hear her little voice singing herself to sleep. It's so bittersweet to hear these things. On one hand I feel so grateful to be informed; on the other, my heart hurts because I don't get to be the one experiencing these things with my child.

She told me that she was going to go to a "birfday" party, but her friend got sick and had to go home with her mommy before the party started but that the party would be next weekend instead and then said "do you wanna come to the party miss Elizabef?" TEARS! Oh my precious little girl, I wish I could come to the party with you. Soon after, she found a piece of paper and a pink marker and started doodling all over it while her mom was telling me silly stories about her. Suddenly, she interrupted and waved the paper in front of the camera and said "I MADE A PITCHA FOR YOU! I made a pitcha for you Miss Elizbef!" ...more tears. Her mom promised to mail it to me (I'm crossing my fingers as we speak).

After she proceeded to undress and show me how she "makes peepee in the potty," (you guessed it...more tears being held back), her mom asked if my mom wanted to see her and say hi to her. Of course she did! So I went to get my mom, and she sat down in my seat in front of my laptop. I was standing right there, and could see the screen, but I was out of sight. Suddenly, my little girl stopped coloring and looked at the screen and got a really confused look on her face and said: "but where did Miss Elizbef go?"  Oh my goodness. Who knew your heart could break and fill with happiness at the exact same time? It was, hands down, one of the most adorable moments in my life. I'll never, ever forget the sound of her voice when she said it or the look on her beautiful little face.

The call lasted nearly an hour and I cherished every second of it. Last night, I got a text from her adoptive mom that said "Great to chat with you." I wish she knew how great it was for me to chat with them. Of course I've told her, but it's impossible to put into words just how much it means to me.

Throughout all of the happiness I felt this weekend, there was a part of me that was sad. Not the obvious part of me that is sad because I'm only seeing my child through a computer screen or because I don't get to see her every day or do her hair or be the one she calls "mommy." I was sad that her birth father has the opportunity to have these same exact experiences - he knows he can write her, he can email, he can get his own set of photos, he could probably even Skype with her - and chooses not to.

Let me rewind a few months: I haven't seen her birth father since October (when we gave her babysitter her power wheels car for her birthday) and haven't spoken to him since January. The last time we spoke, which I'm not going to sit here and mull over or summarize, was a real eye-opener for me and within an hour of hanging up the phone, I had changed my number and have since safe guarded it pretty well. As far as I know, he may not even know that I changed it. We mutually agreed that speaking, even if just about our daughter, wasn't in either of our best interests anymore.  This is the longest I've gone without speaking to him and I remember, way back when, knowing that this day would come. I thought I would wither away and perish if I couldn't speak to him, but it's proven to be the opposite. A weight has been lifted off my shoulders. I do still miss him at times. I do still have to stop myself from sending him a text to tell him something cute she did, or sending him a cute photo of her. But what matters isn't that I need to go through the motions of telling myself "DON'T." What matters is that in the end, I DON'T.

It just makes me so frustrated to think that he is missing out on this by choice. I know he's his own person. I'm not him and he's not me, and my feelings are not his and his are not mine. But the fact remains that she is just as much him and she is me, and I can't fathom having the opportunity to be involved in her life in the way that I am and not taking full advantage of it. He hasn't seen a photo of her since October, to my knowledge.  Her adoptive mom has told me that he hasn't reached out but he is more than welcome to.

I try my hardest not to let these things bring me down. I'm over our relationship and I've let go of what it used to be and realized that it's not like that anymore. Too much has changed, and it will never be the same. I don't even want it to be the same. I just want him to wake up and realize the opportunities he has before it's too late. I don't want him to come crying to me for pictures, but I want him to grow up and develop a relationship with her parents. I don't know if that will ever happen.

I want, more than anyone will ever know, to send him her professional preschool portrait or the picture I got of her skiing. You know, things like that. It feels twisted that I am more excited to show my friends, who never even met her in the hospital, her photos than I am to show her own flesh and blood. But then again, my friends are the ones who deserve to know. They're the ones who are happy for me when I'm happy, and sad for me when I'm crying. They're the ones that ask about her. They're the ones that get upset or angry for me when I don't get my promised updates. Her birth father did a great thing in terms of bringing her to this earth, but my friends and family have been the ones to pick up the emotional slack.  So, when it comes to reaching out to him, I always stop myself. He doesn't make the effort and therefore doesn't deserve to know. I'm fully aware of this! But that fact in and of itself makes me angry. It's a vicious cycle that I feel trapped in the middle of. I'm trying to work through it, but I really don't know how. When will I be able to look at her, and not be flooded with thoughts of him?

I've heard people who claim that birth moms must be some kind of super heroes. Super heroes usually have the ability to fly and have the strength to lift entire communities up to save them from disaster. So why can't I have the basic ability to forgive?

Beam Me Up

I was listening to my iHeart radio the other night, as I do every night as I'm trying to fall asleep, and I heard this song by P!nk called "Beam Me Up." Her voice in this song is beautiful. The chorus, "give me a minute, I don't know what I'd say in it, I'd probably just stare - happy just to be there, holding your face. Beam me up, let me be lighter, I'm tired of being a fighter," made me think of my daughter and my adoption experience as a whole. "I hear your voice and I, I break in two. And now there's one of me with you." It's exactly how I feel about her. If I were to be able to see her in person this very instant, I don't even know what I'd say if I only had a minute. I can imagine holding her beautiful face in both my hands and just reveling in the moment.
I assumed it was about a boyfriend or some other adult she lost that was close to her. Then I found out what the song is about. She wrote the song to her baby that she lost in a miscarriage - now the tears fall even harder when I hear the song. I've played in on repeat for two days and it's actually been therapeutic. I hadn't cried in a while (months, even) and it actually felt good.

Here's the video in case anyone wants to listen, but birth moms or moms of other loss beware; you may need tissues.

Triggers

Fall is officially here and has no qualms about bringing back all of the memories from two years ago. I wonder if those memories will ever fade. Not that I want them to, but I wish they wouldn't sting quite so much. I stepped outside this morning to go grab a coffee and it hit me like a ton of bricks, in a way that it hadn't in a while. I saw the leaves all over the ground, the same leaves I've seen for the past week or so, but for some reason, today they brought tears to my eyes. I suddenly remembered walking through the leaves to get into the car when I was in early labor. The smell in the air, for whatever reason, somehow filled my entire body. Smells are my worst fear. I know how crazy that sounds. Smells trigger the most distinct memories for me. You can block something from your sight, you can block something within earshot, you can even block something from your mind if you try hard enough. But smells hit you hard and fast and by the time you communicate to your brain that you don't want to think about it right then, it's too late, because it's already there. And once it's there, you can't get it out. The other day, sitting in my car driving home from work, I could smell A's birth father. I could smell the way his sheets always smelled back when it all started, in the fall of '07. In reality, I'm sure they always smelled that way (unless he switched detergents!) but I distinctly associate that smell with that particular time. This morning, it was the autumn air. It crept up on me, and suddenly (and all at once), I saw myself in his driveway, covered in leaves, working on his Impala five years ago. When it was all new. I saw him and myself walking into the movie theater to see The Secret Life of Bees four years ago. He so did not want to go see that movie, but I begged and begged him to go with me. I saw myself walking into the emergency room doors of the hospital, with a huge belly, the walkway covered in leaves, two years ago. I saw myself walking to class with an apple cider in hand, through the parking lot covered in leaves (also with a giant belly), two years ago. The smell of fall somehow sneaked into my nose and morphed into these four images all at once in my mind.
I guess Fall is so hard for me because I think of two of the things (people) I loved the most and how they are no longer "with" me. My daughter is with me in my heart always. And I know she is only a mere hour or so away; not that I can go see her whenever I please or anything even remotely close, but I know she is still "with us" literally. But not in the way I would like her to be. Her birth father is only a mere fifteen minutes away now, and although my feelings towards him have changed drastically over the past two years and I no longer yearn with every fiber of my being to be madly in love with him again, he is still not "with" me in the way I would have wanted. No, I don't want that now. I want "us" back. But I want the "us" that we were five years ago back. Too much has changed, and too many true colors have been brought to light, so I know we never can be and never will be that "us" again. I've accepted that. I've let go of him, but I need to let go of the old "us." I guess people can change, and I'll never say never because I haven't a clue what the future holds for either of us. But once you've broken something fragile, even if you have all the teeny tiny pieces, you can glue them together but something will always be different.
Speaking of her birth father, his grandmother just passed away. If you could please keep him and his family in your thoughts, I would appreciate it. He had taken this upcoming week off from work to go to NC to visit her because he had heard that she had gotten very ill, very quickly.  I feel terrible that now he will be taking the trip down there for a different reason. We spoke last week and he was really excited that we had gotten new photos of A (Yes, I got new pictures!) and he was going to take his copies down there to show her. There was one picture in particular, where he said she looked exactly like his mother. He was floored. He was so excited to show his mom and grandmother. He can still show his mom, but he was more focused on showing his grandmother.  I know he has his ways, and I don't agree with a lot of his actions (past or present) but he will always have a special place in my heart and I truly feel for him now.
Well, I'm off for now. I volunteered to work from home here and there for the long weekend, and I'm not doing anything right now, so I may as well put an hour or two in.
But before I go, look at this little princess! She has grown so much since I last saw photos. I can't believe she will be two years old in less than a month.

Officially 2 Days Into Fall

Oh, so much has been on my mind lately. Contrary to all of the things I spill in my blog, I'm a pretty private person by nature. I have a few close friends that I tell all to, but even then, I sometimes hold back.
When it comes to blogging, I have to hold back a lot to protect the privacy of some people involved (i.e. A's adoptive family, my family, and her birth dad). But you know what? I can say what's on my mind and still be respectful. I don't know what the point of having a blog is if I am not going to use it to get these weights off of my chest. I never name names.
That being said, I think I will be writing (or some may call it 'venting') a lot more in the next few months. My little one's second birthday is coming up, and my head is already spinning thinking about that.
A lot has happened over the past couple of months between her birth father and I, and I've kept quiet because it's easier to vent to my friends via text than it is to sit down and write coherent sentences. But, you know what else? To him, I say:

On Saturday, I got a new tattoo. It's something I drew up at work a couple of weeks ago (I know, I know, I broke my own rule - my "one year rule," which was to decide I want a tattoo, wait a year, and if in a year I still wanted the exact same tattoo, I'd go get it. Yeah, this decision started and ended all within a month). In order to explain it, I have to give away the first letter of Arianna's name - her name now. We both share the same first letter in our names - "E." It's also really the only letter that you can turn into the shape of a heart (besides "M," I guess). So from a forward-facing view, it's a cursive "E," and from a side view, it's a heart with some little swirls in it. Either way, it's both the letter and a heart and it is drawn with no 'breaking point,' showing how we are connected as "one." I absentmindedly drew it at work one day while I was writing my name. I loved it, so I went with it. Here it is:

This photo doesn't necessarily do it justice - it's an Instagram'd picture I took, and it makes it look as if the lines are bleeding. They're not, though. How do you guys like it?

Sarah McLachlan ~ Fallen

Heaven bend to take my hand
And lead me through the fire
Be the long awaited answer
To a long and painful fight

Truth be told I've tried my best
But somewhere along the way
I got caught up in all there was to offer
And the cost was so much more than I could bear

Though I've tried, I've fallen...
I have sunk so low
I messed up
Better I should know
So don't come round here
And tell me I told you so...

We all begin with good intent
Love was raw and young
We believed that we could change ourselves
The past could be undone
But we carry on our backs the burden
Time always reveals
In the lonely light of morning
In the wound that would not heal
It's the bitter taste of losing everything
That I've held so dear.

I've fallen...
I have sunk so low
I messed up
Better I should know
So don't come round here
And tell me I told you so...

Heaven bend to take my hand
Nowhere left to turn
I'm lost to those I thought were friends
To everyone I know
Oh they turn their heads embarrassed
Pretend that they don't see
But it's one missed step
One slip before you know it
And there doesn't seem a way to be redeemed

Though I've tried, I've fallen...
I have sunk so low
I messed up
Better I should know
So don't come round here
And tell me I told you so...

Fall: Emotion-packed

Fall has been such a tough time for me ever since A was born. It always has been and always will be my favorite season. I love just about everything about the months between and including September and December. The cooler weather, the smell in the air, the leaves all over the ground, the days getting shorter and nights getting longer. Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas. My favorite holidays. Fall of 2007 was the "best time of my life," or so I thought. Now this season brings on bittersweet emotions that I sometimes wish I never had to deal with in the first place. That's not to say I wish I never had my daughter, not at all. I mean to say that I wish I could look back on my pregnancy and remember feeling joy, with no fear, sadness, or guilt....I wish I could look forward to planning her 2nd birthday party in November. I know it's for the best, I really do know this. But that doesn't make me happy about it. I lived through it, but I am not yet sure that I survived it.
I am excited that it's September. I am not excited about all of the tiny Halloween costumes that are already starting to be sold in every retail store in every city ever. I'm not excited about Christmas this year, even though it's my 2nd favorite holiday (next to Halloween). I am very scared about her birthday. I handled her 1st birthday better than expected, because we Skyped with her and I am pretty certain (no, actually, I am sure) it was the best evening of my life. Her adoptive mom suggested it last year. So now here we are, approaching her 2nd birthday, and I'm not sure if I should ask if we can do it again, or wait and see if she suggests it. If I ask and she says no, I will be crushed. If I don't ask and she doesn't bring it up, I'll beat myself up over not taking the risk and asking. I would love to make it into a tradition with them.
I think I will wait until mid-October and when we chat about gift-giving, maybe I'll bring it up then. I know she already knows I would love to do it, and I know she already knows that no matter what my schedule may be that weekend, I will make time to do it. I would do anything for that little girl, although it seems silly to say that because she is only two, and the Skyping would be 99% for me. So, I guess I'll have to go with the flow and see what happens...I'll pray that she brings it up, and if she doesn't, I'll hope for a good opportunity to throw the idea out there myself.