July 31, 2013 § 8 Comments
It will be your birthday. You are getting so old! I still read about baby development and I’m sure you are doing a bit of walking by now, but you’re still a sweet little baby in lots of ways. As your birthday approaches, I have been increasingly consumed by thoughts of you. I’m sorry I don’t address my writing towards you anymore. I’m sorry I don’t talk about you and I lie about your existence. I’m sorry I banish you from my thoughts at times.
I know I shouldn’t feel bad, and you probably don’t mind since you are their baby and your parents are nice people who must shower you with attention. I just haven’t felt like writing to you because it’s so painful to love someone this much when I know that love will never be returned. The more I can disconnect, the better. Your love is for the people raising you. I’m just an abstraction. You may only guess at the love I have for you and you may never know I wish I kept you with me. The love I have can never be taken away. My life is a death without you–only death would be more welcome than this. I used to take comfort in telling myself I deserve pain and you were better off without a horrible person like me, but I’m slowly coming out of that too and it’s even more unbearable. I would rather despise myself for making a choice and repent for it every day than realize I had so little choice. I was robbed when I was most vulnerable. I put strangers above myself. I was lied to. I was used. Left with no one but myself to blame and to hate. When really I was no match for what I was up against.
I can’t disconnect from you completely and I promise I won’t. Even if I could, it would be wrong of me. I need to be emotionally available if you ever need me, as well as smart enough to realize you won’t need me for a lot and mature enough to accept that.
I’m not doing very well right now and I’m not be focused and motivated as I would have been with you here, but there have been slow improvements nonetheless and there should continue to be, as long as I don’t totally crack up. I quit smoking in March, which I always intended to do eventually. Even when I started again after having you, it was with the intention of quitting soon so I’m pleased I did that. I’m one class away from my associates degree. At age 24 that’s not something to be excited over, but it’s something. David and I are together and happy. I hope someday you want to know him, because he is so smart and interesting and funny. I got a new job in July, making more money with a company I can advance in, especially when I have my degree. There are a lot of negatives, but those are the positives. For what that’s worth.
In a week it will be your first birthday. I’m sure your parents will throw you an ostentatious party. I hope you love your new toys and your cake and the playmates that I’m sure will be there. Birthdays are so exciting as a child, even if you’re too young to know what is going on. August 7th will always be your day that is all about you, and I hope it’s really fun and that you have many more great birthdays ahead. I also fervently hope your parents won’t celebrate August 9th.
I don’t know what I will be doing on those days. I won’t have the distraction of working on either day, so that makes me nervous. First moms say how hard birthdays are and I don’t know what to expect or how I’ll feel. I predict being more depressed on the 9th, as the memories from that day are a lot worse than my memories of being in labor. I will either receive a letter and pictures from C and L, or I won’t. I don’t know which will happen or which I’d like to happen. I do know that I hate them at this point. Absolutely hate. I wouldn’t tell you that. But if you feel like whizzing straight up in the air during your next diaper change, go for it!
I hope you are doing well, sweetheart. You’re closer to my heart than anyone else is. Even right now after so much time and distance, every part of me knows what it would feel like to pick you up and snuggle you against me. I love you always.
July 11, 2013 § 14 Comments
It takes a lot out of me to update this blog. Especially when I have so little to say, except more of the same.
I had a conversation with David about the baby, finally. It was actually a couple of months ago and I never talked about it. I tend to update behind schedule anyway, and this took awhile to process. It had been so long since either of us had spoken out loud about it.
I am often visibly sad and when David asks what is wrong, I refuse to talk or I offer up something lame about my stressful workday. I know that’s unhealthy. I just hate being so obnoxiously sad all the time. And our last talk about the baby, in October, was an epic fight. We had not gotten back together at that time, but we were becoming close again until that. His horrible words were the reason we continued to stay apart until the New Year. Even after that, I was convinced that David was over the adoption, and why talk to someone who doesn’t understand my feelings.
Before anyone demonizes him, I’d like to reiterate that I don’t talk to anyone. Friends and family, they’ve all said ignorant things to me and were no more understanding than David. They all believe I did the right thing. What can I say to that?
The topic finally came up one night because David brought it up. He was sick of asking me what was wrong, when he already knew. And for the first time in months, we talked about it. There were good and bad parts of the conversation. I think he is heavily in denial. I was glad we at least talked even though it makes me sad we disagree on important things. I wish it was an easier topic to talk about so there would not be months of carrying so much pain on my own. And I’m curious to know what he thinks. After all, I never hear a damn word out of birth fathers. It’s easy to assume they don’t care.
I’ll begin with the differences. David thinks we did the right thing and we weren’t materially prepared to have a child. He also claimed that people who are starting a family should own a house or be able to. He also believes I will come to peace with the adoption and know it was for the best. David thinks being adopted is no big deal–the baby will have no problems, his parents will have no problems, nothing will be different for him, he will understand why we gave him up and he won’t hate us. I do have sympathy for this viewpoint. I used to think this way. David also thinks that, with time, C and L will be more open with us. I wouldn’t place a lot of hope on that one.
The good news is, David does know I am sad without me saying anything. He thinks I’m right to be sad. He thinks it’s criminal that we had no time to change our minds, that I signed away my parental rights in a hospital bed. And he said C and L should not have traveled all the way here, to sit in the maternity ward and make me feel pressured. I couldn’t agree more and I was happy he understood the smallest things.
It’s interesting his views don’t match up–like he thinks we did the right thing and yet I know he would’ve changed his mind quickly after signing. And financial security before family? Please. David’s mother quit her job, started drinking, squandered their savings, and went batshit insane when he was 15. Should she have given him up for adoption once she became financially insecure? Or when his parents divorced? It would have been the selfless thing to do.
I was fascinated by David’s perspective when he talked about being ignored by C and L at the hospital. “When we had lunch with them, I was ignored but you were the pregnant one, so that made sense they would care more about you. And then you were recovering from birth, while nothing had happened to me. But when we left the hospital, they hugged you as you cried. I just stood there and they didn’t say a word to me. It felt like I was the asshole loser who knocked you up and I wasn’t important.”
Birth fathers are absolutely treated like this. He is so right. I never realized before how true that was. The agency ladies told me many times, they didn’t need his signature. It was better if they had it, but it was unnecessary. How horrible that really is.
I’m not going to defend David back then. He did act like an asshole and a loser. We were not together when I was pregnant and he made it clear he didn’t care about the baby or me. He was far too busy drinking every night and dating other women. But he wasn’t some random guy I came across, either. He had been my boyfriend for 3 years. He had equal say in choosing the adoptive parents. And he cared enough to be at the hospital. He was in the room and cut the cord.
It was my body that did the work, but we left the hospital as equals. Two broken hearted parents. Genetics are 50/50. The baby wasn’t 80% mine.
It may not seem like it, but this was a huge conversation for us to have. And the fact that David was the one to bring up the subject of our ghost son–it blew my mind.
The really sweet thing he said was that he was sorry for not giving me a card on Mother’s Day. He considered it but didn’t want to stir the pot. He also said I’m responsible and loving, and when he says we did the right thing, it has to do with himself, not how I would be as a mother. I think he’s wrong either way. But that was all I wanted to hear.