motherhood interrupted

one of the things i spoke at length about with Samantha was the first few months post-placement. i've written about this before, in an earlier version of this blog, some 4 years or so ago.

you try fighting nature. and most of us birth/first mothers do, during pregnancy and after. i think its one of the greatest unspoken battles that we face. many of us try to outwit it by logic and pragmatic reasoning. maybe some of us do beat Mama Nature, but i suspect she wins in the end.

"i considered the baby already belonging to the soon-to-be adoptive couple"

"i didn't want to see the baby, because i was afraid i might change my mind"

"when the baby started to cry i gave him/her to the nurse because i couldn't be the one to comfort him/her"

"i didn't name him/her because..."

and so on and so forth. i read these snippets all the time here in the blogosphere. and i've uttered many of them myself when pregnant with the Kiddo and shortly thereafter. because i was going to out-think all of this grief. because i was smart. you can see how far THAT got me.

the fact remains that our bodies anticipate this new life. we're set to nurture, to feed, to comfort. i considered the Kiddo already "belonging" to Betty and Barney. but it didn't stop me from doing some odd nesting rituals. it didn't stop my hormones from raging in a predictably pregnant fashion. it didn't stop my milk from coming in. and it didn't stop my aimless wanderings for months (or years) afterwards, looking for something to fill the void of the child i had just nurtured and loved for nine months.

i remarked to Samantha that in giving away my son and my motherhood, i felt like i somehow gave away part of my womanhood. "talk about that", she prodded.

birth/first mothers hear so often that they're "selfless and brave" for placing. for allowing another woman (or man) the opportunity of motherhood (or parenthood). i know i heard that repeatedly, like a mantra, from the people around me. that i had given Betty and Barney the "greatest gift". meanwhile, i was stuffing tissues into my bra in the bathroom to stop my breasts from leaking and wondering when the baby schwag samples would stop arriving at my apartment door from some mailing list i unwittingly joined.

while i appreciated the kudos on some level - i suppose they made me feel better for a moment - i couldn't hold those sentiments. or feed them. or hug them. or burp them. or love them. i had nowhere to go with the feelings that my previously pregnant body and mind naturally produced. i was supposed to be a mother, according to my body. and this is where i told Samantha that i felt like i gave away a part of my womanhood, by nulling and voiding my motherhood.

i'd lie in bed at night, running my hands over my deflated and fat stomach, feeling lonely. missing something. it didn't matter that i traveled or got a promotion or got married. i'd smile and blather about the greatness of open adoption. but my body knew otherwise.

n00b

i'm on my third therapist at YourTherapyInstitute. my first one left and the second one i was assigned ended up not being able to see me due to insurance foul-ups. i could tell that Ivana Know, the Outpatient Director, was feeling pretty poorly about assigning me AGAIN. but assign me she did. unfortunately, i ended up going about 6 weeks without therapy while all of this was going on, which is a long time for someone like me.

i've now seen my New New Therapist, Samantha, 3 times. i dig her. she gets my sense of humor, and although she's primarily a Children's Therapist (the irony is NOT lost on me), we seem to get on just fine.

at my last session, we were all over the map topic-wise, finally settling into adoption. my ire was provoked, and stoked, by the impending holidays. she let me ramble, reining me in when necessary for clarification purposes.

"imagine everybody you know (family, friends, The Agency) telling you that it will get better, that the pain will lessen in time. that one day, when you have 'children of you own', it will be better. 'CHILDREN OF YOUR OWN'? WHAT THE HELL IS THAT? everyone tells you these stupid f*cking platitudes and you know what? IT'S BULLSH*T" i howled, sobbing.

Samantha shifted her weight in her chair. "why do you think people told you that?"

i leaned forward, looking her dead in the eye, my elbows on my knees, "because if they told you the truth, that there are no guarantees, that you might NOT get over it, that maybe you wouldn't have the opportunity to parent again, that you might regret and feel the grief of this decision every day of your life, nobody would do it. and it makes them feel better. ultimately, its a means to an end. for someone."

Samantha folded her hands in her lap, her eyes fixed on me. "Barbara, i honestly don't know what to say at this moment."

well, that makes two of us.

outing

until last week, i hadn't uploaded any pics of The Kiddo to Faceb**k. it wasn't that i was ashamed or embarrassed, i just didn't feel like fielding potential questions from the girl who sat next to me in sophomore biology or those of her ilk. in an uploading frenzy, i threw some in there, putting them in the "Family" album. and i think three people noticed. or at least commented. and those folks already "knew".

a large part of me held those photos close to my chest out of fear. photos have always been a tricky subject: receiving them, taking them, having one taken of me & The Kiddo. maybe its been simply my own unease and anxiety at visits, but i've always felt like i've had to ask Betty's permission to take pictures. always. would she be freaked out and horrified to know that i've posted pictures publicly? probably. we discovered when the Kiddo was born that we have mutual friends-of friends-of friends.

i've somehow learned, at least for the moment, how to put aside my fear of Betty. i mean, what can she possibly do? not send updates? cut me off? oh, that's been done already. so what do i have to lose?

so to take part in the Adoption Carnival III, regarding my "favorite" adoption photo:

it hasn't been taken yet. and if & when it is taken someday, it won't be categorized as such.