I woke to find an article about celebrating Birth Mother’s Day on my Facebook timeline. For those of you that don’t know, there is a day set aside the week before Mother’s Day to celebrate and honor the woman that gave adopted children life … and it kinda sucks.
First off, let me say that it’s taken me a lot of reading and trying to see the perspective of others in the adoption triad (the child, the parents) to get to this place. As I see it, a person that gets pregnant and does not have an abortion is a mother. If a woman gets pregnant and has a miscarriage she will grieve for that child as any mother would. If I knew about a friend that experienced that and she seemed like she would like to participate, I would honor her on Mother’s Day. If a woman gets pregnant and gives birth but the child is still born or dies she will grieve as any mother would. If I knew about a friend that experienced that and she seemed like she would like to participate, I would honor her on Mother’s Day. If a woman gets pregnant and gives birth to a baby that is taken from her or she chooses not to parent for whatever reason, she will miss that baby. If I knew about a friend that experienced that and she seemed like she would like to participate, I would honor her on Mother’s Day.
In our house, I talk of our son’s parents casually and mention his mother often. We didn’t get a chance to meet her but I want him to know that thinking about, and missing, his parents is okay. It’s okay for him to feel and it’s okay for us to talk about. Mother’s Day seems like the perfect day to celebrate and honor the woman that gave him life. We don’t celebrate Birth Mother’s Day because there’s already a day for that … it’s called Mother’s Day.
This week my family came out to welcome the baby to our family! It was amazing! We went to the beach. We went to Disneyland (yes, we took the baby and got a photo with Mickey Mouse!). We went to the old city and had lunch.
We sat around the house and let the kids run like banshees. We watched little kid movies. We played little kid games. We had a water balloon fight.
On the last day, my sister burst into my room with a beautiful card, balloons and Jelly Belly candies to welcome me into the cult of motherhood! The week was absolutely amazing and I’m so glad that people are welcoming the baby into our family!
Mother’s Day love.
We even had the chance to sit down and talk about how we might feel if the adoption didn’t go through. Doing adoption from foster care is scary. I’m glad that my family is willing to open their hearts to the baby and hope, along with us, that we are chosen to give him a home. If we aren’t the ones, that’s okay too. Perhaps his family will get it together and he’ll go back to them. Either way, our week was great. We feel loved. Life is good.
I love this article on RoleReboot.com from Lynn Beisner. She talks about the first time she really trusted her husband to make a parenting decision. I don’t think I’ll have this problem as He is already the primary caregiver, for our pup, but one never knows does one?
Anyhoo … here’s a bit of her account. Check out the whole article here.
I doubt you could have found a more remorseful mother. I felt so bad for the time she had laid in that bed telling herself that what she was hearing and feeling wasn’t real. But the agony she endured that night pales in comparison to how well and truly she could have been screwed up if my Pete, her dad in every way but conception, had not been there and had not defied me. How would it have screwed with her head if she had chosen to believe me and ignore what she heard and felt? And how would it have ruined our relationship had she believed her senses and decided that I was completely untrustworthy.
To this day, I still have not forgiven myself completely for that colossal parenting error.
I went down the stairs that night a very different parent than the one who went up. I was humbled, appropriately chastened. I had learned that I could be very wrong. In the months and years to come, it made me more willing to include my children in decision-making. More importantly, that was the night that my husband became a real parent in my eyes, someone who loved my children as much as I do, someone who has parental intuition, and someone who has skills.
We just booked a hotel for a visit and we did something I’ve never done before … we asked the hotel to place a crib in the room. Take a look at this room. Does it look like it should have a crib in it? Nope. Will it have a crib in it? Yep!
One of my biggest fears is losing myself when our family adds a kid to the mix. I do want to raise children, but I do not want to become the dowdy mom in the wrinked yoga pants that only goes to kid-friendly restaurants.
When you tell folks that you’re going to add a kid to the mix you get a lot of, “Oh! How wonderful! Kids really change your life” as if that’s a good thing. Will some things change? Yes. Will everything change? I hope not. I love who I am and where we are as a family. It’s a huge step for me to add a crib to the mix, though it’s empty now, but I think it’s a good step. I’m figuring out how to bring a kid into our world. I’m sure there will be many other small steps but I’m looking forward to things being different not worse.
I read this over at OffbeatMama.com and thought it was germane to the blog.
I’m not an abortion counsellor — I’m an options counsellor. That means I help you explore all your options. Every single one. Parenting, abortion, and adoption. None is off-limits unless you want them to be. I can’t make the decision for you. I can only guide you on the path to the right choice for you. You alone have the right to make the decision, and I know this can also be a huge responsibility that weighs heavily on your shoulders.
I never judge you. Ever. I met you an hour ago. I have no right to make decisions about your life. But I can support you every step of the way. I give you a safe space to talk, explore your feelings, ask questions, cry even, and hopefully, help you come to peace with your decision, whatever it may be.
I love reassuring you there is no correct way to feel. That you are normal. That you’re not selfish or crazy. I love bursting the myths you’ve been bombarded with — that single parents are feckless and lazy, that only uncaring people choose adoption or that abortion causes breast cancer.
I hate that I can’t rescue you from the situation you’re in. Some women know instantly what they need to do. For others, there is no easy answer. And sometimes, life feels so very unfair. Women who desperately want to parent but whose partner will leave them if they do, whose parents will kick them out or who know they cannot raise a child with severe disabilities. Women who want to choose abortion but feel they don’t deserve one, fear their partner will become violent if they do, or know we judge so terribly women who chose abortion.
Not once, never, have I thought “I know what you should do.” If your decision was easy, you wouldn’t be sitting in front of me. No woman’s choice is the same. No woman’s life is the same as another’s.
I’m so glad that there are people like this. Each family has to make its own decision about their family. If you would like to talk through your options, please contact an Options Counselor in your area.
I keep reading about how birth mothers and adoptive mothers sometimes feel strangely about sharing the title of “mom”. I don’t get it, but then I’m not a “normal” person. I have long eschewed the idea of people that are related me calling me by some titles that I am supposed to be called. For example, my nephews call me by my name not “Auntie”, “Teetee” or anything other than my name. My godkids also call me by my name.
Since reading all the hullabaloo about the title of “mom” it got me thinking about if I would want my kid(s) to call me “mom”. I’m leaning towards “no”. Now, to hear everyone tell it, once that baby is placed in my arms my brain will rewire itself to only care about fitting myself into the “mom” role. As my partner likes to say, “It’s not impossible, but it’s highly improbable”. Lol
I would like to think that what my child calls me isn’t important. Family is what we do for each other. Love is an action. Who cares if they call me by my name or “Hey You” as long as they know that Hey You will always be there to help them pick up the Cheerios, complete the homework, and dance to Michael Jackson songs in public places.
Is there anyone else out there that has children that call them something other than “mom”, “mommy,”mami”, “mama”, etc.?