Tuesday, May 23, 2006


I have been an internet sleuth again.

I was able to confirm that L did indeed have a second child one year after BJ was born. I have his name and birthdate. There was also a third child. She is raising both of them.

I am glad to know this, and it gives me understanding of why I might not hear from her for awhile. But it also gives me pause. This is a relationship I KNOW BJ would want to have, even now - and I can't get that for her. Not yet.

And I can't keep this information from BJ, but I don't know when is the right time to introduce it and how. She will be very upset and really beg to see them and I will have to tell her we can't. If I had known before it could have maybe been casually introduced. But at this point - it is a revelation. No way around it.

I would really like to have a photo of them for her. I want a photo of L for BJ, but also for me.
So, I am sitting with it. It raises more questions in my mind than it answers. But in a really strange way it also makes me OK with not hearing right away. Or rather, more empathetic about not hearing right away.

So the plan. Wait patiently and hope. Continue to think and talk to those who have walked this path about how and when to share this info with BJ. And as soon as BJ asks me to find L, I call an intermediary and we show up. Right now, I am driving this process and I feel it would be unconcienable to just descend on L and her family not knowing if she has even told them about BJ. I have no right to be the trigger of her WTF moment, if that hasn't happened yet - or to break any privacy she may have.

While I don't want to hurt L, when BJ understands and wants contact, then I am willing to take more risks on L's behalf.

But the info is a gift. I treasure any bit I can get. It goes in a file for BJ, for the day I gift it to her.

Photos are a dream.

Sunday, May 14, 2006

To L

I am thinking about you today. Can I wish you a happy Mother's day?

I want to acknowledge that I have a mother's day today because of you; You gave life to the child I love, you protected that child in the only way you knew how. This beauty and miracle of a little girl belongs to neither of us, but is a gift to you and me and the world from our God. I am thankful everyday for her in my life.

I want you to know how wonderful she is; healthy, happy, spunky, smart, loving and funny.

I hope that your day has joy in it today. I wonder about your little boy and hope your day has the joy and fullness of him .

I wonder if it will be on a Mothers day that you reach back to us.

I wonder if someday, we will be able to feel a connection on this day - If we can celebrate together the joy of this girl and how she makes both of us Mother's today.

I admit, I find it easier to think of how our lives will intersect when she is an adult, even as I hope and long for some contact now. But today I look to the future when our girl has her own child and she gets calls from both of her mother's to wish her Happy Mother's day.

Sunday, May 07, 2006

What I didn't Say

Tonight is a night of realizations, and now regret.

I visited the Soul of Adoption board tonight for the first time. I was reading about an adoptive mom who was struggling about contacting a birthmother where the situation was also similar to mine. The child was removed from the mother's custody by CPS. She spoke of trying to figure out what to say. People gave her some suggestions.

It hit me. In my effort to keep my note brief, positive and mostly vague enought that L would know who was writing her and why but that anyone else who might accidently read it wouldn't be able to know that L had placed a child for adoption (at the time of the adoption she had not told her parents of the pregnancy), I had only said what I wanted about contact.

I never told her that BJ was well.

How could I have forgotten that? I am sure I could have referenced it without giving up the "note from a friend" feel to it.

On Pain

I was reading a first mother's blog today where she posted photos of her girls, the one she is raising and the one she is not. I had read much of her story but the photos hit me in a new way today.

I saw the little girl she placed for adoption. My first though, oh how beautiful she is. My second thought, Wow, how much she looks like N. My third thought stopped me cold.

Oh My, it would KILL me to see her.
So young - so much a fit into her own family.

It would KILL me. And this is exactly what it would be like for L. Our children so close in age (if it was her that had the little boy a year later), If her life is in a different place than it was.
Did I do the right thing? I think so. It is not my choice if she should see photos of BJ. More so if we visit.

But - My, God, My God - How does one survive this. I know not all who read here share my faith, but I don't know how a pain like that could be survived without holding on to God. It would be horrific enough, knowing it will somehow work together to Glorify him. Without that knowledge - I don't think I could see her.

But the other side - is it any better? Not knowing. Wondering. Missing and longing without the concreteness of a touch, a smell, a smile?.

Maybe that is why some choose photos only.

Once again I am rambling. But the beauty in that little girl's eyes made me weep for L.

BJ is OK, will be OK. Even if we meet, even if she weeps for saying goodbye to L at the end of the day. BJ knows our love, and love from L would primarily be gain, even if it is tinged with sadness. That acknowledgement of loss is already there, as BJ says - "but I never saw her" and doesn't want to talk about her and says she doesn't want to see her photo even if I get it. But I know my child, she will be glad to know we have it - to know she can see it when she wants.

But for L - what does she get out of my offer of contact. Nothing but more pain. Well, maybe a little bit of confirmation that BJ is safe, loved, happy, smart, healthy.

I am glad it is not my decision. Wow.

And all this from a photograph.

Maybe because it is so close to our situation. BJ begs for a brother or sister. I know that is not going to happen. We won't adopt again, except for a very rare situation. I never really wanted to pursue medical stuff and now I am 37.

BJ might already have a brother. I would love for her to know him. But again - what that would cost L. Oh my. The pain of seeing it. Of knowing - I got clean for him, I could have done it for her.

But even there, I am projecting. I don't know. I don't know if she is the one who gave birth to that little baby boy. I don't know if she has conquered her addiction. I don't know her family situation. I don't know.

I would like to know. But not at the cost of her pain being magnified.

It is her decision.

And all my anxiety about time is gone. Who but our God, for L does share my faith, knows. He knows when BJ and L will be ready for each other.

I pray he gives me the strength to look with love into the face of her pain.

This adoption, this making of our family was the making of joy (for us) out of a bad situation. A woman suffering in addiction undoubtedly facing a great deal of pain even before the pregnancy, fails to provide safety for the newborn. She decides to relinquish the child to adoption. Did she diminish pain for BJ? Probably she removed a great deal of risk for her, at least for a time. And L will pay for that choice, and I will benefit from it.

From here I can only be thankful for the blessing and wonder that is this child, try not to make further pain for L, and work to ensure that a day will come where BJ will have the fullness of all her life has for her. I pray that someday that will mean two families to love and embrace her.
And I still pray that the pain of all this will be protected from BJ until she is mature enough to understand it. That doesn't mean hiding the facts of who she is from her. I mean the woman to woman issues of grieving, loss, and dying to yourself to save your child, even from yourself when you in the midst of a losing battle and desperately trying to win the war. When victory feels like defeat every day of the rest of your life.