small town blues, 2nd & 3rd verses

sometimes adoption comes up in conversation out of nowhere. today was one of those days.

standing outside of work this morning, savoring the last dregs of then-cold coffee, smoking that "i'm feeling damn accomplished" cigarette, and the manager of a shop on the next block walked past me. we talked briefly of "the holiday season", the serious renovation bearing down on the pedestrian mall, and ending with my tale of paying heed to the siren song of P!er One yesterday. she asked me if Chris and i had kids. when i perkily responded in the negatory, she asked "how old are you?". so i told her (uh, almost 35).

"well, you still have options. you could always adopt. i always wanted to do that."

my smile tightened and i nodded my head. "you're absolutely right, i have options".

we wished each other a happy and stress-less week and parted company.

__________________________

on my way home from work today, i noticed one of my favorite seasonal shops was open. so i stopped in to see the owner, Jack, whom i've known for 15 years. one summer i actually worked there, but the rest of the time i'm simply good shopper and fellow gadfly.

he was on the phone when i came through the door, but waved, and i started browsing Guatemalan sweaters and trying on the most hideous sunglasses.

"hey Barb, how's your son?" he hollered across the store.

i froze. Jack has always known about the Kiddo, its just not something we talk about often. he and his partner, Sparky, have adopted through the foster care system, so it has come up periodically over the years, but never out of the blue. what answer was i supposed to give?

so i shrugged.

"it's Sparky, he's asking about your adoption" Jack explained.

we went back & forth for a few minutes, Jack asking Sparky's question, me responding, Jack repeating to Sparky. (why he didn't just hand me the phone...)

Jack hung up the phone.

"Sparky says you should have given your kid to us"

__________________________

let me state that i adore both of the people in the above situations.

the woman in the first bit doesn't know me very well. we've known each other in a casual sense for a number of years, and get a good chuckle out of the other about once a week. she doesn't know about The Kiddo. and Jack, well, i've heard that sort of thing before.

actually, in the first year, i heard that too many times to recall. for the first 6 months or so, whenever i came back to visit this area, i heard that at least once from some well-meaning person who had known me for X-amount of years. i've learned to take it as a sign of love, strange as that may sound.

and unlike the last time something like this occurred, i am splinter-free.

permanent wave

imagine being unexpectedly pregnant. imagine working up the courage to call an adoption agency. imagine the overwhelming feelings of the first appointment at said agency. imagine discovering how many families in the pool from which to "choose" to parent your unborn Kiddo. and then, imagine trying to discern how much openness you desire.

how can a person (expectant mom, prospective adoptive parents) make a sound, lifelong commitment about openness without a personal frame of reference?

i knew what was "normal" by the agency's standards. but were those "guidelines" appropriate for me? i had no idea. i'd never had a baby, placed a baby. were pictures every three months for the first year, once a year around the birthday after that first year enough? was a potential visit annually at the agency function adequate? this was fairly "normal".

do you make a lifelong commitment after two lunch dates and paperwork?

i couldn't choose an appropriate haircut while pregnant.

and yet i did make choices, on the basis of what i surmised would be best for the impending, but still abstract in some senses, Kiddo. i made decisions for someone i'd never met, setting precedents without prior experience.

cross posted at Open Adoption Support

validation

i wander through daily life wondering if i'm crazy-batshit-nuts when it comes to adoption. there's nobody in my immediate physical vicinity that's on a first hand basis with the subject. until yesterday, i forgot how isolated i can become.

can i get an "Amen" for Alexander Graham Bell?

so much can get lost in writing. its not always "fast" enough, immediate. carefully selecting the right words. and i forget that i need, occasionally, to talk. to share ideas, stories, laughter and the occasional snuffling. the camaraderie that does occur between birth/first/yourchoice moms, even if the situations are different, is amazing. the baseline is the same.

its been said before, by so many people, in reference to vast and varied experiences - there is no manual, no guide. no "what to expect after you've been expecting and placed". and i appreciate, greatly, the women i've spoken with, corresponded with and met through blogging. without you, i'd be a puddle on the floor.

i'm not crazy-batshit-nuts. it's simply a confusing road, with occasional poor visibility and lack of guardrails. i'm grateful to be part of the caravan. so lead on. and click the high beams.