Second Sunday in May

this year, i don't care so much about Mother's Day.  or maybe i do, and i'm just so irritated and pretending i don't care.

it's not like it is acknowledged between Betty and i.  the first Mother's Day, when the Kiddo was about 3 months old, i think i sent her a card and received one in return.  there might have even been a tiny framed picture from her involved.  i might have done something the second year, but i don't remember.  

but i clearly recall thinking that it was ridiculous for me to send her Mother's Day cards, so i stopped.  why should i send her a card when (in the basest of terms) i gave her my kid?

my mom used to really try around mother's day.  and it would infuriate me.  i can remember several second Sundays in May over the past decade that would end in me hissing through my teeth that i'm not a mother. 

so i'll just continue with my normal sunday morning cleaning & laundry.  i'll make the rounds with Chris later to our respective mothers, internally roll my eyes and blink furiously to hold back any unpleasantness.  

Happy Mother's Day to you, should you celebrate it, no matter your role.

stream

the pictures don't come and i wait and wait and wait by the mailbox week after week.

and i pretend it doesn't matter. and i go about my days, drinking coffee, working, taking photographs, paying bills, killing time. i laugh with my friends, take drives up and down the coast, not thinking about the Kiddo. lying.

i wonder how he's grown, how he's changed, how he's doing in school, if he's playing ball this year. and when i think about it too hard i hear whispers about my selfishness echoing in my head. key phrases on repeat. and i drink more coffee and smoke more cigarettes and look at old pictures, one in particular where its he and i and we're smiling at each other.

and people ask and i am cavalier and i smile and toss my head, shrug my shoulders and pretend. my stomach folds in on itself while i'm writing unsendable emails, unpostable entries. fodder for the trash bins.

i lock myself in the bathroom periodically, like a tantrum throwing teenager, shaking with frustration and sadness and fear. but i'll soon wash my face and straighten my clothing and clean up the mess i've made. and emerge smiling. and lying.

two cents

*spoilers, whatever*

i watched "Juno" this afternoon, hunched over the laptop while Chris took a nap.

i didn't hate it.  if anything, i'm pretty ambivalent.  it didn't strike any response from me until the last ten minutes of the movie, when i predictably started to get a little moist about the eyes. 

once i got over the uberhip language, i really paid attention.  i didn't see it as all sunshine & happiness.  i felt for Juno.  for a smart-mouthed, brainy, pop culture junkie, the story seemed to be about a real loss of innocence.

i wrote in a a few years ago about how placing was a real loss of innocence.  a part of me changed irreversibly.  my steps were heavier.  i looked at my life in a different way.  i just brought a life, a person, into the world.  me.  i couldn't go back to the more carefree, fly by the seat of my pants lifestyle i had prior to pregnancy.  granted, i didn't realize that right away.  certainly not by the next seasonal change.  i was just trying to resume my "normal life" by going out with my friends.  and that's where Juno's story ends.  but even though she resumes her "normal life", a part of her being is permanently changed.  as viewers, we just don't get that far.

and also for Juno, how relationships aren't always mendable, in the case of the prospective adoptive parents, Mike and Vanessa.  when Mike reveals that he's leaving Vanessa, that he's not sure he's ready to be a father (or if he'd be a good father), the stark betrayal on Juno's face crushed me.  how the plans they'd made were dissolving right there, at that moment.  discovering how someone really is deep down, the real truth, can be a reeling epiphany.

in the end i felt a little sad.  not because it triggered my adoption stuff, or because a "comedy" was made about a personally sensitive subject, but i wonder how many girls & women who might find themselves in an unplanned pregnancy might have this film as their only frame of reference.  i say that as someone who remembers clearly recalling "Immediate Family" when deciding my own adoption path.

meet my friend, Panic Attack

i've been dealing with panic attacks for almost 20 years.  in fact, they were so bad when i was in college that i spent some time "away", trying to get a grip on my life.

they've been rearing their heart palpitating, nausea inducing, stomach churning, mind-muddling evil little selves again.  it started around the Kiddo's birthday, and what i call "the mailbox stakeout".  i stalked the mail carrier daily, my ears straining for the sound of the postal truck, for about a month.  then i gave up on the waiting.

but the attacks haven't stopped.  in fact, they've increased.  i'll try to talk myself down from them when i start to feel the rumble, my face blazing and heart hammering out an erratic Morse Code.  but no matter how many times i convince myself that i will not a) throw up on my shoes, b) pass out in the convenience store or c) have a heart attack or stroke, i feel like that's exactly what's going to happen.  

living like this, day in and day out, is no picnic for our household.  i only wish my health insurance included prescription.

salvation

yesterday we took a hike through one of our favorite spots.  we've been going there, separately and together, since we were teenagers.  you can take the main path down through the sand, about 1/4 mile, to the largely-unknown-to-the-public beach.  or you can take one of the lesser paths.  through forest & overgrowth, over fields, down beyond the "dune forest", you can also come out to the ocean, a mile or two south.  we took the "scenic" route.

we parted ways for awhile once we reached the shoreline.  he was in seaglass-finding zen mode and i had my camera, full of energy.  i raised my arms above my head, spinning in the sand, feeling the wind whisk through the few light layers of shirts beneath my pullover.

and in a moment it was gone.  there was nothing but me, the beach, the salt air, the sun, my husband and our laughter.

on the nose

once again, i'm going to have to direct you to Brown, and her latest post --- which is primarily what's been going on in my head.  

an excuse to write

reading my bloglines subs this morning, and a new post from Coming Clean; Confessions of a Secret Birthmom dealing with some communication with the Adoptive Mom.

"She wants me to go away. I can see that now, I can only imagine what M thinks."

this is the absolute, most awful, feeling in the world. i've been carrying it around for over a year.

"And right now I want to go away. And never ever have to deal with this again. Because my response right now is "I'm sorry I ever bothered you , goodbye." "

oh fellow blogger, i hear you.

the thing is, we'll never go away. even if the contact ceases, we're still there. in our children's smiles, aptitudes, & laughter. in the end, a reissued birth certificate can't erase the little souls we carried, birthed & placed with the best intentions. pieces of our souls.