A very good friend of mine, J, was adopted as an infant during the time period when domestic adoptions were, for all intents and purposes, closed. Over the years, she has managed to gather a few precious pearls of information about her birth mother, but never enough to actually find her. She has allways wanted to know more, a fact that she has willingly shared with close friends and has been careful to downplay with her mother- who is very sensitive about the birth family "issue."
The other day, through a series of serendipitous events (I really cannot give details, as it is her story to share) she connected with her birth mother's family. She is so excited, overwhelmed, scared, and thrilled. She will be meeting her biological aunt and other family members soon.
I told her how thrilled I was for her to finally have some of the missing pieces about her birth parents. And I truly am thrilled for her. And scared for her. and, as much as I am able to, I feel her excitement and nervousness and sense of being overwhelmed with the whole experience. I love her dearly and was brought to tears by her reaction. "I feel like a completely new person." she told me. That makes sense to me.
All that being true, I must confess: among all the happy feelings and joy I had for her I also had a reaction that I am puzzled, and a bit ashamed, of: A small, but distinct sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. A sense of what? dismay? fear? Both. And more.
When I shared this news with R over dinner last night, he said "oh my gosh, she must be so thrilled.' But he also had an almost imperceptible wince. Ah, he feels it also.
Why, I asked him, am I so bothered by this? I should be nothing but happy. And yet...yet I feel other decidedly not happy feelings.
The truth is, as much as I am so "hip" about adoption, the triad, the "its good to know about birth parents and isn't open adoption so wonderful" and all of that "stuff" (and I do truly believe in and advocate for openness in adoption) deep deep DEEP down, I have that "not politically correct" feeling that in some ways I really do not want to know that much about our child's birth mother. I dread the days that are likely to come where my child wants to know more about her, wants to find her, meet her, and has fantasies about her.
In a word, I am jealous of her, the woman who will carry and give birth to our child. I have a deep seated fear that I am "second best." If not "second best" at the very least "second choice." And a part of me can completely understand J's mother's "sensitivity" about J's birth parents. I hate that I will not be able to answer the questions our child will have- at least not answer them in a satisfactory matter. Our child will wonder, will want to know, and will have to wrestle with what it means to be adopted. I do not want him to ever feel he cannot ask questions, wonder about his birth mother (and father), and have fantasies about meeting her (them).
But I know that when he does ask, wonder, and fantasize, I will have this tiny, but distinct, sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. small, petty jealousy. Feelings of inadequacy. And, I am ashamed to admit it, relief that his birth family is thousands of miles away in Vietnam, not 100 miles away in a small town in our state.
And this, my friends, has me feeling terrible. Do I really have what it takes to be a good parent to our child. I fear that I may not be. I know that I am hardly the ideal adoptive parent.
J, I know you dont' know about this blog and probably won't ever read this. But know that I love you. I support you completely as you enter into this exciting and overwhelming journey to connect with your birth family. Forgive me for not being a better person. I find comfort in knowing that you, being such an open and caring and sharing person, will be able to connect with my child in ways that I never will- that you will be there for him when those questions arise in ways that I may not be able, that you will be there to step in where I may fail to understand and help me be a better parent, a better person.
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3 comments:
Kelly, we all live with that fear and guilt and jealousy. I know there will be a day when Annslee will want to know about her birthparents and I will have NO real answers. I realize that since she is only two we are living in a bubble of sorts..she has no idea that we are "different" from other families and screaming Mama and running into my arms is so natural. There will come a day when the "other" Mama surfaces and I will have to deal with that in an honest and loving way. Pray for us all!!
PS..you absolutely have "what it takes" to be a great Mama!!
I've been thinking alot about this issue. I feel quilty about adopting this baby and raising him/her so far away from place of birth. I keep thinking that the baby will have these issues no matter what, he/she has already been given up for adoption, whether I adopt this baby or not, someone else will. Will I be a better parent, than birth parent would have been? I don't know,depends who and where you ask. But I know I love this baby already, this baby who's face I've never even seen, so I will do my best just like you will do your best and we will be happy with our chosen family.
Kelly, I get it. It's the deep deep DEEP down feelings that are the worst. I don't want to be jealous of this seemingly unknown woman, yet I am. I feel bad for her, I wish things were different so that she may keep and love her child forever, but they aren't and she's not. I sometimes get a little bitter at myself about it, but the feelings are still there. I just don't want to manifest them towards my soon-to-be-somewhere-perhaps-not-born-yet-child. I want them to *want* to know about their birth family, I just don't want to feel bad when they want to know about them. Confusing, I know, but it's how I feel. I guess we just give it our all and hope for the best, just like we would do no matter how they came to be a part of our family.
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