cindypsbm

Today I listened to a radio show about adoption because the amazing Dawn was in it.

After listening to her I decided to try and listen to some of the other shows listed under her on this site http://toginet.com/shows/adoptionjourneytomotherhood

I stopped listening to the show under Dawns when I heard the host(who is supposedly a first mom) mention something about not wanting to ‘confuse’ an adoptive child with contact or too much info.

I felt a rage inside me and stopped listening because theres nothing about having open contact with first family and adoptive family that would actually ‘confuse’ a child. I’d like to present the theory that limiting what children are supposed to know about themselves only confuses them more, not less.

Children are smarter than many parents seem to want to believe. Yes, they can get ‘overwhelmed’ with certain types of information, say about things that movies generally warm about and stuff.

I firmly believe that children, as soon as they can identify themselves in a mirror or picture, can also tell what is different or the same about their parents(adoptive or not)and themselves.

I grew up with the family I was born too, and I remember as a child having many preconceived misrepresentations of everyday life because my parents were ‘limiting’ or even substituting information that was completely misleading.

Adoptive parents do this when they believe that having their adoptive child know his/her first family confuses them if they were to become part of the everyday life. Just because an relative of the family frequents your family home, and you know them, doesn’t make things confusing for a child. In fact, it kind of makes things make more sense then if this does not happen.

I know that there is going to be much confusion about who I am(there sort of already is) to my son. Not because there is too much contact, but because there is too little contact. He is going to wonder why I wasn’t allowed to be at his birthday parties, or at his school events. He is going to be confused about the fact that even though dozens of women ‘mother’ him in the many social gatherings that his adoptive family goes too, why did I never show up.

I know my son is going to believe whatever his mom tells him. Even if I tell him I wanted to be there, I wanted to know him, I wanted to show him that I care, he will probably think that I just don’t, care that is. I know that his adoptive mom already mistakenly says that he is theirs because  ‘they wanted him soo soo much‘.

From that statement his is going to conclude that I, obviously, didn’t want him. Which could never ever be true, ever!

If only I could become a part of the community, not interferring in my son’s life at all, but more availabe. I wish I could be there, in real life, as they say. I want to be like one of the many women who are the ones who are a ‘natural’ part of his everyday life. I know that his adoptive mom rarly cares for him on a one-on-one basis. She is a driven white-collar professional. She does have time for her daughter by birth, I have seen it happen, and usually frustration for my/her son.

She doesn’t think she is doing anything wrong by not including me in anything, even though she could, very easily she could!! I know she(and likely the adoptive dad) think they are going far and beyond in ‘openness’ with myself and the first father.

The reality is that visits once or twice a year, right after or just before birthday celebrations separate myself and the first father from our sons world. I can guess that to him, we are like aliens, extremely foreign and obviously not entirely welcome. Why else would we not be invited to the actual events that are full of the other people of my sons world?

Really, the only ‘confusion’ that happens is with the adults, the ones who have clearly forgotten what is it like to be a child. Really that is the only way I can explain the reason adoptive parents want to ‘simplify’ their childrens lives.

The truth, in my view, is that they want to simplify their own lives. They(adoptive parents don’t want to tell everyone the truth. They want to pretend that it would be to ‘hard’ for the children to understand just because they don’t want to have to explain it. The truth being that adoptive parents paid for the right to be parents with money. That they took that privilege away from a first family. A first family that will always be a part of the child that they can now call ‘their own’. They really don’t want to think about the fact that they are raising a stranger, a person whos apperance and personality with always be completely foreign, no matter how are they look for the ‘similarities’.

Yes, I think that this ‘confusion’ theory is hurtful. I think it is just an excuse to erase a first family out of a childs life for the sake of only the adoptive parents comfort.

I will always greive for the fact that myson adoptive parents have choosen to reguard me, and my family and the first fathers family, as less important. Less important than even casual friends, less important simply because I am not a part of their ‘world’.

I could be a part of their world, I would fit in too. I am technically equal to many of the adoptive parents family and friends in terms of background, social status, even education and employment. If not, those would be attenable at least.

I am still angry, but writing this has helped a little.

Lately life has been a series of frustrations with my physical self. I have been having random pain that limits my mobility somewhat. It goes away, but being in pain makes me more emotional. Less patient or willing to compromise. Also, it has the opposite affect as well. Sometimes having constant physical pain makes me so weary that I just don’t have the energy to ‘get mad’ or oppose something or someone. That means that whatever is asked of me, I’ll do it, even though I am in pain, because I just don’t want to argue that I will have difficulty doing whatever is being asked of me.

Many people no longer believe me when I say I am in pain because I have been in pain for so long and still seem to function normally. I am in pain though, it is real. I am not one to lie about things like that.

This pain problem of mine is not really what I want to post about. I want to post about the on-going affect that ‘knowing’ about my son(whom I placed in open adoption) has about me. Most days I find inner peace about my decision through reasonings that he is well-loved and everything is really really good for him.

I hate it when I am wrong. I know that his adoptive parents likely take care of him as well as they can. There are many times though that I seriously doubt that the adoptive mom, in peticular, loves him the way she loves her daughter by birth. Today is one of those times. The reason I think that? A FB status comment about my/her son stomach sickness. Which he has apparently had for almost a week! Here I was thinking that everything was very happy and good, because the last FB status stated that he was enjoying a new play group. That was just three weeks ago. Now I think that play group has made him ill. I know that his strong, average, healthy-ness of his four-year-old self will beat this common sickness. That worries me more is the flippant way that his adoptive mom stated her opinion of it. She said he needed to ‘get over this’, as if being healthy was just a matter of will-power on a four-year-old boys part. I know I might be seeing this incorrectly. Right now though, it just looks to me that taking care of him is an annoying chore keeping her from going camping. I know many parents express frustration and annoyance for certain things that are happening to their children. I just am seeing this from a pov of a person who is in constant pain and hopes that her son recieves the mercy tenderness that he needs. I mean, just a week ago, when the adoptive moms daughter(by birth) was ill, her status read more emotional, with a sad ‘crying’ face. No complaints about her daughter not getting better in time to go camping!

In the past there have been other comments, both online and in person that made me feel as though the adoptive mom was favoring her daughter and showing frustration at the smallest act of non-compliance from my/our son. I remember the first time that I was fortunate to share a meal with the adoptive family at a visit. My son was two years old, his sister, just had turned one year old. The adoptive mom, fed her daughter a full portion of food before my/our son and gently scolded him when he tried to reach for his sisters food because he didn’t have any yet. I remember asking why he didn’t get any and the adoptive mom said that since her daughter was younger, she needed to eat sooner. I remember thinking that at only a year apart in age, both children should be fed at the exact same time. It wasn’t until his sister was done her pre-meal ‘snack’ that we all ate together. I always will remember that the daughter recieved extra food, and my/our son recieved only about the same as the rest of us. I reasoned that he did recieved enough food, so it was not that big a deal. What was a big deal for me was the looks in the adoptive moms eyes. The way she looked at her daughter with an almost tangible tender-ness and at my/our son with a look of impatience along with body language like folding her arms, letting out short snorts of sighs. With her daughter the adoptive mom visiably relaxes, looks calm, serene and smiles more genuinely and often. Instead of the forced grin or the sarcastic facial twitches she shows while looking at my/our son.

I often reason that none of this really matters because my son seems normal and average. He lives in a newly build home, he has a good bed, a room full of toys, a world full of friendly people at his church, and many other places. He might be sick right now, but, as far as I know, in his four years of life, this is only about the third time he has ever been physically ill. I learned of the first time that he was ill through a sarcastic comment made by the adoptive mom. She said something about enjoying his being sick because he would actually ‘cuddle’ with her unlike when he was physically well. I always find it confusing when my sons adoptive mom talks about his lack of physical affection for her , because otherwise my/our son is very affectionate to anyone else who comes his way. Now, at visits, he seems to shy away from me. I think it is because I weird him out in being waay too interested in him. I do get a few hugs though. I don’t understand why he doesn’t want to get close to his ‘mom’. At every visit he seems to be more ‘bonded’ with his adoptive dad(goes to him if he hurts himself, wants something..etc) and I like that. I just wish he was just as bonded to the ‘mom’ in his daily life.

The thing that bothers me the most is that I am sure his adoptive mom has no idea that she is being ‘mean’ as I see it. She is the big boss at her workplace and I get that she is used to people not liking everything she has to say or do. Does being a big boss make her insensitive to the suffering of my/our son? Well, it doesn’t make her less sensitive to her daughter, that’s for sure. Actions and even in-actions tell me more than I should know some days.

Honestly sometimes I want to be ignorant of my son’s adoptive moms real nature as portrayed by her FB posts. I want to think that she is gentle kind and always patient with my/our son. I know that is not the truth. I DO want to know the real deal about my sons life. I will always be thinking ‘what is going on with him now’ during my everyday life. Honestly I feel helpless do anything to help or hinder anything concerning my son. I know I cannot do anything, I have no power other than prayer. Pray I do, I know that even though knowing that he is ill or suffering drives me crazy mad and thoughts that he might not be loved as much as his sister drive me even crazier, there is nothing that I can do. I just have to let those feelings subside and trust that even if he is loved less, he is still loved. I know my love for my son will never cease,and I do care deeply about his sister too. I can’t help it, she is a lovely little girl. Recently I have been considering getting her a pair of dress up shoes and had to force myself to consider a toy of equal value for my son as well. That had never happened before. More often I think of things to get my son and know that I cannot, because I am only allowed to give twice a year(Christmas and birthdays). A few times I have gotten around that at a couple visits, where I gave ‘just because’ gifts. I often want to get gifts for people I have a strong feeling do not want me to get them gifts. I think that is because gifts form a sort of bond, an obligation to return kindness, friendship, that sort of thing. Many people do not want to be my friend because I don’t ‘fit’ into their world view or way of thinking, and they don’t want to compromise that way of thinking.

I am getting off-track. I wanted to conclude this by saying that I want to know about my sons life, but the way I am ‘knowing’ is hurting me and giving me all the wrong ideas. It could be that I am right about my son not being loved the same as his sister, but I want that to be wrong. Really I do. I know that his adoptive parents, especially his adoptive mom, do not think that they are loving their children any differently than they should. My heart just wants my son to be shown extra love, to be treated to ‘extra’ like I have personally seen his sister recieve. I am sure that his adoptive parents discount all those little ‘extras’ or don’t even realize that they are giving them out in their attitudes and moods. I know that they are just human. I am willing to show mercy. I never intend to critize their parenting to them. I know that would be useless as I am beyond powerless. Ok, I am rehashing too much. I need to stop. I might edit this a little more another time. My mind is still racked with pain and my body too, I am completely unreasonable.

Lately I have found that I seem to be someone who ‘settles’ for what she can get rather than that she really wants.

Example: I ordered something at a restaurant, a new menu item, a twist on old favorite. Noodles and cheese, only with stuff added. I wanted the one with broccoli, I got the one with bacon(something I am actually trying to avoid). Not what I was hoping for, but I was hungry so I ate it, picking out the slightly over-cooked bacon. The rest if it still tasted like I expected. The staff offered to re-make my order but I felt guilty for pointing out the mistake and I was too hungry to wait for them to go ahead and make the food that I actually ordered. It’s not like I’m allergicto bacon, I am just trying to be a little bit more healthy. Also I learned how pigs are farmed and it makes me not want to eat them! lol.

Same thing happened again just the other day. I ordered a ‘new’ menu item at this same restaurant, a  boiled egg sandwich as opposed to my old favorite of turkey. I got turkey where there should have been a boiled egg. Again I was hungry(not to mention time-crunched) so I settled for something I was not expecting. Even though I was really craving that boiled egg..the warmth of the yolk was in my mind and everything!!

I think that I do this alot, and not just with food. I mean, a expect a friend to understand, to be available, to share life with me. Then it doesn’t happen and I just sigh and think ‘ok, maybe it’s just not going to happen’ . Eventually I do have friends that try to understand me and everything. Most of the time I am stuck waiting for them to be completely out of  ‘other things to do’ before they notice that I am still existing.

Also, with regards to the open adoption relationship I have with my son’s adoptive parents. When we all met for the first time(I was 8 months pregnant) we talked about how everything was going to work. I stated many times how I really wanted everything to be. They seemed to agree with almost everything I said with cheerful excitement. Four years later the truth is that most of what I thought would happen did not. We never went to the agency’s lovely picnic that is still held every year, twice in one month. Just in case some people can’t make it the first time. I really had my heart set on that picnic gathering. My son’s adoptive mom made lame excuses for reasons not to attend. I will never understand why she doesn’t want to visit with the kind people that helped her become a mom for the first time. I know the adoptive dad would go, if only his wife wanted to. I stopped asking if they wanted to go two years ago because I know that I would just get a ‘no’ from her again. I did get the visits I hoped for, most of them. I did get some of the pictures I was hoping for. I didn’t get the detailed updates I was hoping for, even though I have actual emails promising updates detailing first moves, growth, and other developmental stages. The adoptive mom just never bothered to put those events into words and send them to me. I suppose the pictures show some of those milestones. I have a picture of him ‘smiling’ at two months, sitting at five months, none walking though,  and one of him playing with a phone. I guess that would be ‘talking’. I believe I have had to ‘settle’ with what I have been given, just like the restaurant food. I mean, for the most part seeing pictures every few months and having the visits twice a year does calm my irrational fears for my son. Knowing what I know does satisfy the craving I have to know about my sons well-being. Settling for what I have settled for in the ‘openness’ in the adoption of my son does satisfy me enough to be confidant that my son is in the family that he needs to be in.

When I try to imagine what his life would be like if he was with me, for the most part, I only see the negatives. I only see that, with me, he would be sleeping on ‘charity’ bed that would not be half as good that the bed he sleeps on now. With me, he would have cousins who look very much like him in many ways, and they would be his only friends. Where he lives now is very culturally diverse, as is his actual adoptive family. Most of the people around him do not look like him because they are not Caucasian, but that’s probably a very valuable thing. If he was growing up with me, many of his blood relatives might teach him the prejudice that they show in their day-to-day actions. I would not want that because my attitude is very different from my family. I think if my son was with me this whole time instead of the parents I choose for him, he would be well-fed, but I am not sure if it would all be as healthy as people with more money could afford to feed him. If he was raised by me instead of his adoptive parents, he might not be as social, or as healthy, both mentally and physically, as he is now. Not that I wouldn’t try to do the best for him if I was the one parenting him.

This has gotten off-track. I was trying to say how I have settled for what I really expect to settle for. The thing is though that  I feel guilty for complaining, just as I do with the resturant food and even with the friends who blow me off, because I have gotten some of what I wanted. I have been sated with what I have received in all ways. How? because the food is still food that I can eat, the friend comes back eventually to listen to me, the valuable pictures and personal time happen with my son. I wish I was not a person who ‘settles’ but I am…oh if I could change!

Would that be a good thing??

Just the other day my sons adoptive mom posted on her Facebook about having to appear in court as a witness for an accident. Then being told her presence was not necessary when she arrived.

Makes me remember a time when almost the same thing happened to me. Only I was nine month pregnant, due on that very day(gave birth a week later though) but everyone I told about the witness subpoena told me that I really should just go. I remember when I got the the court house I arrived with some food from the cafe around the corner(yummy soup and wedge of bread with lots of butter!!) there was nobody in the place. Also there were great big sign that said ‘NO FOOD OR DRINK ALLOWED!!!”. Really, there were exclamation marks like that and everything. At the time I was thinking  ‘pish! you can’t tell me I can’t eat! I’m pregnant!’ Although through much of my pregnancy I barely thought about my pregnant state. I mean, I took care of myself, eat as well as I could, took vitamins. Honestly though, besides small brief moments of time, I just went about my life normally. This thing about this accident I witnessed I was really kind of interested in. I did want to see justice for the victim who was thrown from a moving vehicle right in front of the vehicle that I was travelling in on my way to church(I promise that is really true!!). I had come to the court house early and was eating my yummy soup and buttery wedge of bread when a security man came up behind me. ‘Excuse me ma’am?’ he said. At this point I was looking at my food and the crumbs and the little bit of soup dripped on myself and maybe on the carpet thinking ‘gees, I’m busted now for eating here!!’ As I tried to clean myself up and kick the crumbs on the carpet away and look innocent as I looked up into the old mans face. ‘umm..yes sir?’ I said meekly ‘I was just wondering if you required any medical assistance’. This confused me a little because I didn’t think that I looked like I was in need of ‘medical assistance’ so I just looked at him a little perplexed. The old security guard continued ‘I noticed that you are pregnant’. Now I was thinking ah-ha!!. I told him I was fine and explained about the witness subpoena and he went away. When the court thing time actually came, I was informed by the victims lawyer that I was not needed because the victim was refusing to show(mind-boggling!!) but I could stay and watch the other guy have his say if I wanted. So I sat on the uncomfortable bench in the court, being the only person who was not a lawyer and heard the guy who drove the vehicle that he threw the victim out of plead guilty and get a $50 dollar fine. I did not like that, seems like the bad guys just get away with stuff nowadays…$50…like that is a punishment. During the time that I was just sitting there(kind of had to pee at the time) some other court security person asked me again if I need ‘medical assistance’ which I did not. I was totally fine!! I have no idea what made these guys keep asking me that!! Probably it was just there job.

I remember a couple of times when security guys would come up to me(in the mall, library..etc) and ask me if I needed help again stating  ’I noticed that you’re pregnant’. I would be thinking ‘great job Einstein’ . Really, I mean, if I ever need help, I would be asking them. I always felt slightly offended at the notion that I might not be able to decide that for myself. As if being pregnant was something that made me a security risk and all these security men just had to let me know. ‘Hey lady, we’re watching you’. Hmm…I’d wish I told them I’d rather you not help me at all. I was kind of too shy then, and sort of embarrassed to have people remind me that I was pregnant. As if that was something I couldn’t figure out on my own!!

So my son adoptive moms little comment about court procedings and how they didn’t need her there, just as they didn’t need me made me remember all this about being pregnant. I do still think about my pregnancy many days. Mostly because I want to remember. Although for me there does not seem to be alot to remember because I lived so ordinarily, much as I do now. The only things I remember was when, as with the security men, I was treated as ‘something else’ than an everyday person. Even with customers, I would be moving along at my normal speed and customers would be like ‘slow down, you’re pregnant!’. To which I would feel really annoyed because slowing down is much more draining that doing things as quickly as possible. Honestly I think that because I was as active as I was it affected my labor and delivery in a very positive way. I shudder to think of all the women who have troubles with labor and delivery and am very grateful I did not have any of those problems. I think it was because I remained active. Nothing against women who needed to rest alot, I do understand that every woman’s body handles things different and I was just very lucky.

Anyways, sometimes I wish I could be pregnant again, other days I am glad I am not. Often though I am surprised at how many things that happened in my life are linked with the fact that I was pregnant during the time they happened..

I am only going to write this because I know that it won’t really get read. Not really anyways because this site does not get much traffic, if any…

Exactly a week ago I had a visit with my son and his adoptive family. For reasons I can’t really explain I think I have actually come to the point where I feel like I could go without a visits, or even knowing stuff,  for a while. Why?? Not because I don’t want to know or visit, but because I feel like I am unnecessary and I am just too tired to be a real value to my son’s life right now. I enjoy imagining him too much to want to realize that none of the conversations I imagine with him in my mind will ever come to be. Also I am just getting more tired than ever before in my life…

I mean, sometimes my head feels like it is spinning when I think about my son. I actually want to forget him and just be normal for a while. Not that I could really forget him. Visiting is always so indescribably nerve-wrecking. I always know that I have this very brief moment in time to be with my son and at the same time show his adoptive parents that they have nothing to fear from me. Trying to connect while trying to make his parents comfortable with me at the same time is becoming too much for me. Not that his adoptive parents seem uncomfortable me with, in fact my greatest frustration with them is my own inability to know if I am indeed offending them or not or if I am becoming a friend or not.

During this last visit I actually put some effort into conversing with my sons adoptive mom. As always she was very differential to me and casually kind. Looking back I realized that the time I spent trying me best to converse(something I am actually not very good at) meant that I missed moments with my son that would have been wonderful to experience.

I know this might seem silly to others who are not me, but I missed him saying some cute things and even doing some cute things. I only learned about these things because my son’s first father and his wife were with me during this visit. They experienced something that I should have when I was awkwardly talking to my son’s adoptive mom. In fact my son seemed to like his first fathers wife much more than me. Which makes me feel like dirt, really it does.

This lady who married my son’s first father is an OK lady. I still do not know exactly what she thinks of me, or what version of the story she really has believed about her husbands relationship with me. She has come to the last three visits of the twelve that I have had with my son. My son seems to believe that she is the first mom, and not me.

Which seems awfully unfair, but in a child’s eyes, especially a four year old’s, I can see how he might think that. I know that many adopted persons see there first parents as a couple. My son has always seemed to ‘connect’ more with his first father, which is OK by me. My son’s first father is part of my son, and I want my son to know what he is made of, the whole truth of it(in time of course). The thing is because my son ‘connects’ more with his first father, his wife seems to my sons eyes to be the person who should be the ‘first mom’ because she is partnered with his first father.

My son’s first fathers wife does not really do anything to encourage my son to like her, she seems to be just naturally comfortable with children, and so also my son. At one time in my life, I also was comfortable with most children. Not that is not so. Mostly because of my constant physical agony that I have learned to live with by avoiding touch or any kind of intense movement most of the time. This means that I am like a cold iceberg of a person even when I try my best to be ‘warm’ it’s just really awkward and odd. My son’s first fathers wife does correct my son when he mistakes her for who I am to him. I don’t think that my son will understand for a while yet, especially because I get so few chances to visit with him.

Right now I am still a stranger to my son, even though I have visited twelve times, most of those times, my son will not  remember. All through this last visit, just a week ago, I was in a ‘just get through it’ sort of mode. Physically I was not my best because of PMS and the confusion over why this visit had to happen on Valentines Day.

My son’s first father never did explain that to me, and when asked he was defensive and made it seem as though it was my idea, when that was not true. This last visit came as a shock to me, the scheduling of it anyways, almost a month in advance I knew about it, which had never happened before. Also, my son’s first father did the asking, which has only happened once before, that I know of. All other visits were the result of the adoptive parents asking or myself asking. Just before I received the message about doing this last visit, I was decided that a visit even in as late as March would suit me just fine. Obviously a visit so far after my sons birthday did not suit his first father, so we had to all go and see him on what I felt was a most inappropriate day, just personally anyways…

As much as I do want to see my son, know him and all. I worry that in time, he will be disappointed that his first mom is me, and not his first fathers wife, or even some other woman. I mean, I don’t really look very much like him, except for the colour and shape of his eyes and maybe his nose too. My son’s first father though had talked during the visit about how his eyes changed colour from what my son’s eyes are now to what his eyes are now. Also, my son’s first father wife has some physical character traits in common with me, eye colour that is. My eye colour is fairly common though..

My son’s first father and his wife have a new child, who is growing into the very image of what my son looked like as a baby. The comparison makes me feel like I am no longer valid, that I have been usurped by happenstance because of this half-brother that my son will hopefully come to know well. This child will be another reason for my son to be able to dismiss me as his first mom in favor of his first fathers wife.

Truth be told, I have a hard time believing myself that my son is actually the same baby I gave birth too. Honestly I can remember almost every detail of my pregnancy and giving birth. I love to look at my son’s pictures from the day he came out of me into the world. That baby in the pictures from the day I gave birth looks nothing like the little boy I have visited twelve times, well, a little bit, but not much of the ‘baby’ is left in my sons appearance now.

Which is a good thing, I long to see a glimpse of what my son will look like as a grown person, really I do.

Something I always come back to after every visit is the difference between the baby I gave birth to and the baby that his adoptive parents have raised. I don’t know if I will ever have the experience of raising a child myself, I doubt it will happen, but I want to see the transformation that baffles me. I want to see what happened  to change him so much from three to eight months of age that made him so different from the baby I gave birth too.

I have noticed that it seems to happen to every baby. A change at about six or seven months old that changes that baby from ‘newborn’ to ‘baby’. Not that they weren’t ‘baby’ like before, they just seem to turn into the image that so many dolls are seemingly modeled after.

My son continues to stay the same as the ‘changed’ baby but just gets bigger in the limbs. Or so it seems, I guess he is normal. My perception is that very little of him reflects me in any way, and even the ways that he does reflect me are explainable in other ways, but other means.

My frustration is not that I want a place in his life, no, I understand that it is not strictly necessary. My frustration is that my son does not seem like a part of me, when I feel like he should seem that way to me. Regardless of whether or not I have any influence on my sons life apart from nurturing it before he was born. I want him to represent me in some small way, just naturally, by being just a little bit like me. My sons life at this time is everything I wish I could have had for myself. In my mind I am partially living out a kind of freedom through him that I will never have.

I promise I will never try to persuade his adoptive parents or him to live out my dreams. I just want them to happen for him without ever being involved. In that way I will be assured that he really did come from me. I know that he did in my mind, but currently, not in my heart.

My involvement in many things has not lead to success, not always failure, but not success, as much as I try to do what is right in every way. I think I have this thing about me that makes things not work, even when things that go wrong could not possibly be my fault. I feel like my lack of charm and actual talent makes things not really work more than mediocrity allows.

I want my son to really excell in all ways that are possible for him. I deparately hope that the fact that I decided not to parent him will not make him think anything of himself that is not true. I deparatly hope that he will believe what is true, about how I love him more than I know how. That my love for him is like a force of its own living somewhere inside my strange awkward charmless heart. A force that I have absolutly no control over and do not understand.

I really hope that someday, when he is able, my son will decide to be my friend, casually of course. I really hope that he will not suffer any confusion about where he really comes from, what he is really made of and all. My sons first father wife seems to have become a complication that I did not expect and probably without meaning too.

This last visit seems to have been one that I wish I could do-over again, at a time when I have more energy and less frustation with life in general…

When I think about my adult life, I think about all the ways that I have taken care of myself.

I feel proud of the times when I was completely independent, working 44 hours a week, paying rent, buying my own groceries, that kind of thing.

The thing is that it’s always be only for myself. Now I am a first mom who has pretty much come to terms with what it all means for just me.

Others may be different, but I have decided to have no illusions of ‘having my own family’. I decided this long before I even became a first mom. Now, at the time of my pregnancy I briefly harbored some hope that I could possibly achieve this ‘having a family of my *own*’. In the course of time though, my logic of the facts that those things just are not for me. I am much too annoying and self-possessed to be able to ‘submit’ to a husband and children. As much as I wish I could, I am now past my prime. The statistics are very clear about women my age, it is very unlikely that I will have a family to feed and cloth in the near or even far future.

Besides, I have decided that it is better to let my mind live in the here and now and enjoy all the blessings I did and do have.

Although I will always wonder what it’s like to always be buying for more than myself. I hope that the course of my life has not made me an incredibly selfish person. I do try everyday to do something unselfish, even if it’s only giving of my time or money.

Sometimes I wonder if not having a family to care for makes me seem like a person who may not understand what it is like to have the responsibility to care for one. I think that others that have families to care for do not understand how to care for just one person.

My mom, whom I currently live with, (I must say that I have spend much of my adult life living completely ‘on my own’ ), she(my mom) feels the need to still buy large quantities of food. If there is something that you buy one or two, and get a another of that item at a lower or no cost, she will do it. My mom has allotted me one shelf in the fridge, and one small corner of the pantry(amounting to about a fourth of the space). The rest is filled with *her* food which she rarely shares or even uses for herself. It all sort of ‘just in case’ food. As in ‘just in case some relatives visit’ or ‘just in case’ her church has a potluck or some such life-related things that my mom likes to do to try and fit in or impress.

Mind you, I do not need much more space than she gives me, honestly. I have learned how to live simply. I usually know exactly what I need and exactly what I can do without. To be honest I could do with much less than I have. I have actually lived with less than I have. I think it’s a good lesson to learn, what you can and can’t live without. I might not have learned that if I had not spend so many years taking care of just me.

I must say, just in case someone comments that I should want more children, that I will change my mind someday when  ’someone special’ comes along. I have to thwart that mind-set before it presents itself because I have this world-view of things. I honestly think that the world has enough people, much much much more than it needs really. There is no urgent need for me to create more people, now or in the future. The fact that I did have one child was very nice and quite interesting, I learned things from the experience that I am sure not one women would have been willing to tell me. For example I learned that labor causes extreme bowel movements for the first ten contractions or so, at least it did for me. I learned that babies do not usually cry loudly the second they are born, many times they need some help. I learned many many things that I cannot describe in words. I will always value those lessons, I do wish that someone had told me I was right about having extreme bowel movements during labor. Every women I asked LIED like the dickens to me about that when I was a teenager, even a teacher!!

Lately there have been times where I have doubted that I am a responsible person. Mostly because my mom told me she thought I was not, and that my youngest sister was. She has since changed her mind since she has gotten a good nights sleep and a view of the facts. I love my both my sisters very much, but I can’t say I understand the ways that they live. Their finances are always in question, they both live to take care of children, one as a mom and one as an auntie. Neither of them have lived apart from each other for very long since the children came along. I do like that the children have constant caretakers, but I do not like that my sister the auntie is the one who does not get to make her own life.

My mom admits that she favors her youngest child. I guess it’s the way she came into the world, way too small, too early, and completely unexpected. I can appreciate that a mother always wants to care for the weakest child first and foremost, it is a good idea. I think that her instinct to care blinds my mom from what how my youngest sister really lives.

I hate to compare but I want and this is my blog, so I will. At my sisters age I had already lived on my own in three different places, but had the same employment throughout this time. During this time on my own I made mistakes, and lived with the consequences. Once, because I accidentally washed my bus pass(my only form of transportation) and had to buy a new one, I was left with $8.39. With this I had to buy a weeks worth of groceries, and I did manage to do just that. I bought with coupons that I had saved, I lived on .30cents a pack noodles and snagged some little packages of jam from the cafe by the deli counter to go with the store-made unsliced bread(I had a knife at home..)

This is just one of the small examples of how I learned to take care of myself. I remember always being determined not to ask anyone for any kind of help unless I could not do whatever it was that I needed to do.

My sister *does* take care of my other sisters children as well as she can, but she does not do anything else really. She does everything for my other sister. I know that is a what a responsible person does, and I know that she does the best she can. I really wonder though if she could survive on her own like I have. I want that for her, she is too young to be so tied down to responsibilities that should not even be hers.

Maybe that’s just because I did not make them mine, not that I did not want to, I just was not the one asked to help. Today I am really wondering if responsibility is a choice or an obligation or a character attribute. Or can it be all those things? I ask too many questions, I know.

It just feels horrid to think that others might see me as someone who does not understand how to be ‘responsible’ just because I am not a parent, just because I usually only take care of myself. Yes, if I see a need, or a way to help someone, I do it, without hesitation and with great joy. I doubt that many parents feel great joy every time they have provided a meal. Although sometimes I have no doubt they do.

In having a job and working I guess the ‘family’ that I take care of is different everyday, but I still do what I can to do what I should. Maybe that doesn’t count because it’s for money that I need to live, but I would think that parents have rewards in parenting , just as money is for my employment.

My mom shared with me something that she found just the other day. It’s a small china plate with a ‘kitchen prayer’ on it. Given to her as part of a set by an old friend who died some years ago, she thinks it was a wedding present. The prayer is unique, not the one you may be used to. It goes like this:

Lord of all pots and pan and things, since I’ve not time to be a saint by doing lovely things or watching late with Thee Or dreaming in the dawn light or storming heavens gates. Make me a saint buy getting meals and washing up the plates

Amen

Pretty, isn’t it?? My mom said that that was how she generally felt about being a mom. I know I am a mom in the sense that I gave birth and all. I have firmly decided that I am not ‘a mom’ in the literal sense. The way that everyone sees a mom. I understand that, I have peace with that, I do not need to be any one’s mom. It is not something I need to do.

I do not need to be anyone’s wife, although I hope to be a good friend, a sister, a daughter, cat owner, even a good writer would be nice, but I am not betting on it.

 I do not want to burden the world with more people, or spend any more time on the idea that marriage is something I should have. I want to live humbly, if I am blessed with things I do not expect, so be it.

I can only be who I am. I can only live as good as I know how, and it is probably the same with my sister.

I don’t think my mom sees that, she might always be hoping that I create a family,  and in doing so become ‘a responsible person’

It’s just something I have to live with, knowing that people expect something of me that I don’t of myself and that they don’t really need from me anyways. Need and want are always tricky little ideas aren’t they??

I think it’s everyone’s responsibility to figure out what is what for themselves, I just hope they get it right and I will always wonder if I have…

In the past few years of the open adoption that I experience as first mom I have had the privilege of seeing some of the social aspects of my sons life. Also I have seen many of the social aspects of my sons’ adoptive parents life.

I have seen them(through FB pictures) go on camping trips, parties, church functions, everyday parks and pools, even road trips and resort destination vacations. Usually there are the same group of friends in most of these pictures detailing these events. I like that my son has a large social group of people. Most of whom have children his age, although there are quite a few ‘singles’ in the mix of the adoptive parents friends.

For some reason I feel jeolous of these friends. They look and there comments(on FB) portray them as people I would normally hang out with, people that I would fit in with. The thing is that I feel left out of the life. I actually wish that my son’s adoptive parents would just invite me to be with them, even if I can’t actually go. I just want to know if I would be accepted by all(or some)l the people(who are my age and stage in life) that I see in the pictures. I know that being that I am a whole four hours drive away from where all these friends live that socializing with them would not really be possible on regular basis. It’s just that whenever I visit, the adoptive parents make it so that it is just us and them and their children(they have one natural child besides my son). I wish that I could be naturally intigrated into their lives.

That I could just be a part of the crowd they ‘go’ with, because it seems like I would have alot in common with their friends. Here’s what I am really wondering, would they really accept me knowing that I am the first mom of their friends adopted son?

I know, I just worry way way way too much about what other people would think or think about me.

They likely don’t think about me at all. Really, now that I am a first mom, and the adoption rate is rising in my province. I wonder what the people who are friends with the people who adopt think of the adopted child, or even the first mom of that child.

In real life, I know that people play favorites. They like the children who are the ‘spitting image’ of a beloved friend. I have heard so many people go on and on about a child of a friend that looks like her/his mom or even the dad. Espiecially when the children are young. It seems to be the chief topic when a friend has a child.

What effect does this have on a child that looks nothing like his adoptive parents?

What do people, who are not adoptive parents, or adopted person, or first parents, really think of the adoption stuff?

Would my son’s adoptive parents friends exclude from their lives because I am their friends adopted sons first mom?

I keep imaging what it would be like to be included, but I have the feeling that it is not something that will ever happen because I am sure that most of my sons adoptive parents friends would not be ‘comfortable’ knowing that I am very much like them. It is just my opinion that most people not connected to adoption want to believe that they are really nothing like a first mom or an adopted person, maybe they think they are like an adoptive parent, but certainly not like a first mom or the adopted person.

I look at all the fun pictures and have this strange desire  to want to meet them, to know what they really think of my son. I want to know if they think about his super blue eyes and wonder where they came from, or if my sons adoptive parents have told them they come from me. I want to know if they pity my son at all for being an adoptee. I want to know if they imagine that I am some kind of terrible person, or some kind of pitiful person, or if they really know that I am not so different from them.

I am glad that I get to know what is going on with my son’s life, but I can’t help feeling left out because I know that I will never be invited to be with this crowd of people I am not so different from, the one that is almost constantly around my son. Which is a good thing, I LOVE that he has so many friends. I don’t believe it is possible that they could me my friends,  just because I gave my son to one their friends.

I have to assume that they would care for their friend much more than they would ever care to know me…

Just thought I’d actually try to post a entry here.

My name is Cindy. I am a first mom to a boy who is 3 years, 5 months, 5 days, 15 hours and 39 minutes old at this second.

I have this strange instinct, at any time, without barely thinking about it, I can tell you the exact amount of time my son has been breathing apart from me.

I wonder if that is a sort of craziness???

Many times, when I read posts made by adoptive parents, their some of their attitudes towards first parents confuse and bother me.

For instance, many of them complain about the mental health of their children’s first parents, citing as reason to limit contact or cancel it all together.

How do I know that their judgement of their childrens first parents mental health is sound???

Why would an adoptive parent expect a man or woman, who just realized they lost the most important person in their lives, to be completely sane??

It’s likely they feel guilty for profiting from a situation that causes very real pain and hurt.

I think, personally that many adoptive parents want have an excuse not to involve the first parents in their lives, so that they can live out their dream of parenting without any negative ‘vibes’ from first parents.

Now, I consider myself to be mostly sane, except for a tendency for depression that started when I was too young to be depressed about anything( at 12 years old I attempted suicide).

Many people might consider the fact that I have no real ambitions for my life and the pervasive mediocrity of my life to be a sign that something is very wrong with me, because most people have ambitions and try and live them out.

Other than that I take care of myself for the most part. I work, support myself, keep myself clean and appropriately clothed and behaved almost all of the time(nobody’sperfect). I practice my faith with sincerity and consistency.

Most people would think that I should be a parent at my age and stage of life.

I wonder if my son’s adoptive parents are scared that I could still claim my son from them??

I wouldn’t do that now, but if I could go back in time I wouldn’t have placed him in adoption at all.

Why??? because I realize that I could have been just as good or better parent than they are.

They work full time and my son and their birth daughter are in child care, something I chose adoption to ideally avoid because I worked in childcare and don’t like how they do things.

In my opinion children do better when they only have one or two primary caregivers most of the time, not when they have to get used to half a dozen other people to care for their needs.

I had no idea that my son would not experience the kind of care and attention I expected from his adoptive mom.

Also I had no idea that during my pregnancy, dozens of people wanted to help me but knew my attitude and pride in not accepting any help and so refrained from offering me help, hoping I would ask them.

I now know that even if people do not like a certain person, if a child or infant is involved, they will give whatever resources they have.

At the time of my pregnancy, I was thinking only about how people preceive me. The fact that I am very annoying and not many people can stand being around me for very long. The fact that my social skills are very lacking and this means that getting to know me is very hard and most people just give up after a while.

I was not thinking that my very idenity would change the moment I gave birth.

I did not know that three different groups of people were trying to plan baby showers for me until I saw them returning items at the store I work at. Until I heard them talking about how sad they were that they didn’t have the chance to give me these items(some very very expensive too!!).

I did not know that I would be approved for a large line of credit and three other credit cards that I would have been easily able to live off of until I could work again(if I had chosen to parent).

I did not know that I could have been eligible for a college subsidy to get a degree as an RN(which I used to dream about) if only I was a single parent with a low income and only for that year that I had my son.

Does thinking about all these things make me an insane first mom??

Would it scare my son’s adoptive parents to know all the incrediable benefits to my life being my son’s everyday mom would have to myself and to my son(because I don’t think it’s ideal that he does not have the amount of love and attention I expected them to give him)

Or would they be angry that I placed him with them at all when I could have parented him and they could have been free to just love their birth daughter. They could have been free of the stress of adoption, if only I had actually considered that I could have really been a good mom.

I know I am likely being very judgemental of adoptive parents, I think I have a right to be though, because many of them seem to be judgemental of first parents!!

I am not sane, how could I be, I did the most unimaginable thing(to them) I gave up the chance for a real life as a mom, as person who really makes a difference, as anything besides what I am now!!!

How does an adoptive parent define sanity anyways??  really, I want to know!!!