mediocre mommy

In honor of National Adoption Awareness Month I decided to re-post something I wrote last year…

  My little boy is getting so big.  He knows all his letters, he can count to 20, he can dress himself (I have no idea if all newly made 3 year olds can do this or not but I’m naturally assuming he is brilliant). And while each new day brings a glorious discovery it also brings massive anxiety for me.

  Jack has reached the age where he knows that babies grow in bellies. Which means that he has started asking questions about growing in my belly. Which means it’s time to start explaining to him that he didn’t grow in my belly.

  I’ve known this conversation was coming all along. I’ve read eighty bazillion books about it. I’ve asked every person I can hunt down that is adopted or has adopted children about it. I’ve practiced it in my head and occasionally out loud (although doing it out loud makes me cry every time). The books, the people and my inner monologue all tell me it is going to be okay. That doesn’t make it any easier.

  I love my son so much it hurts. I have loved him from the minute he was born and I know without a doubt I was meant to be his mother. I am his mother…but so is another woman.

  Sometimes I think selfish thoughts. Pretending I gave birth to him. Pondering the idea that maybe his birthmother doesn’t have to exist. Wondering how easy it would be if we never had to talk about it. These thoughts are fleeting though and I would never act of them for two reasons. The woman and my son.

  There is not an adequate word in the English language to describe his birthmother. Selfless is silly. Giving is a slap in the face. Maybe if you took altruistic, chivalrous, charitable, magnanimous, loving and noble and mashed them up you might be getting close, but not really.

  I have no doubt that she considered keeping him. That she wanted him. That she loved him. She did it anyway. She did it because she loved him so much and she couldn’t give him the life he deserved at that point. She wanted him to have to world. 

  I can’t even fathom the courage it would take to make a decision like that. 

  So when I start having the selfish thoughts I think of her. I think of everything she has been through. I think of what must go through her head. Our choices mold our lives forever and her choice gave us the family I never thought we would have.

  I am Jack’s mother. I will always be his mother and no one can take that from me.  She is his mother too and no one can take that from her.  This is Jack’s story, his history, his life and I hope someday he is so proud of the choices we all made for him.

  So I will once again bust out the books, hunt down adopted friends and let the voices in my head run free. Anxiety move aside. It might get bumpy but it’s going to be okay.