the visit

June 4, 2015 § 9 Comments

The visit last Sunday wasn’t horrible. C and L have warm, kind personalities and they are easy to chat with. L (adad) is clearly an animated, attention-grabbing personality, so he told a lot of stories and filled silences. David and I were quiet and probably seemed distant or detached; though I don’t know what they expected. They mainly told stories about the kid, who is the star of every room he is in. When we were in the restaurant and outside, everyone was looking at him and smiling. He has a ridiculous amount of charisma for a toddler. Apparently all the girls at daycare are obsessed with him, and he ignores them. Ha!

He was also a good talker for his age, telling us an adorable story about their trip to the zoo. He showed us the animals they saw by imitating each of them, roaring like a lion and waving his arm in front of his face like an elephant. I wish I was privileged enough to hear his stories every day, to hang around and see what he says next. He is happy and sweet and he obviously loves his parents. He has a hilarious sense of humor and the most contagious belly laugh. And he is all boy, super active and high energy even compared to other toddler boys, although he was perfectly well behaved the whole time I saw him. It was a surreal experience to sit across a table from him. I couldn’t believe I was really seeing him and he was so physically close, only an arm’s reach away and not miles. I pretended for emotion’s sake that he was like any of my friend’s kids in which I am only politely interested, so I didn’t stare. If it weren’t so painful I would have stared and watched him forever.

Apparently they were in town to adopt “H’s baby brother.” Guess they were all out of baby girls. They talked about it exactly like that, like he was already theirs. Every instance that baby brother was mentioned felt like a knife stab. If they were expecting a smile or a congratulations, they didn’t get one. I felt sick and paralyzed thinking of the soon to be separated mother and baby. I’m not even raising my own child, and they’re now raising two of someone else’s. Mercifully, they didn’t talk about any details except that he was going to be overdue like H was, and that was enough for me.

The good news is that they suggested e-mailing photos and updates, because of the international move, snail mail would be pretty inconvenient. I gave L my email, and he sent me a photo to make sure that it worked. They apologized for sending slightly late updates, and they seemed horrified when I said the agency takes at least a month to mail them. C asked if I had kept in touch with the agency and I wasn’t sure if she meant counseling or chit-chat. Either way, they only texted me a few times after I left the hospital and I’ve had no desire to ever talk to those women again.

Even though the visit overall went well, David and I had a difficult time with it. I still am. A familiar darkness has settled back in, the heaviness of moving around every day, and I have a fresh vision of what was lost. But it’s alright, I’ve accepted that I’m never going to catch a fucking break.

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§ 9 Responses to the visit

  • Deirdre says:

    Hi, I follow your blog and would like the password. Sincerely, Deirdre

    Sent from my iPad

  • Amy says:

    Oh Ariel. How I remember those early visits. We didn’t get to see our daughter until she was 9, but I know the darkness that grips you so very well after it’s over. Well, even “during” sometimes. I guess it might still happen, 30 yrs. later, except we don’t see our daughter anymore. Facebook posts still can throw me for a depressing loop though. I don’t have any advice to get through these days, except be kind to yourself. Try to find somewhere to go or something to do as a distraction. Know that this feeling will pass (until next time). And remember (with all the sarcasm I can muster) open adoption is such a great gift!! Aren’t you lucky?? Yeah, right. I’m sorry I’m not being more uplifting…just going through a dark period myself. One day at at time, sweetheart. Really, it’s all we can do.

    (((HUGS)))

    Oh, and can you send me the password too?

  • It good to hear everything went well and your son is being looked after but that must be so unbelievably difficult, I can’t imagine what it must be like. You have all my support, best wishes! x

  • Oh, I miss my mother so much! We will never be mother and daughter again. All we had were 5 days in the hospital that I can’t remember. All lost!!

    And for what? I will never get over her.

  • CJ says:

    No words for you. Just sadness. I can not imagine the pain. There he was. Again. Oh my!!

  • Kate says:

    I appreciate your honesty and vulnerability in what you share. Adoption is painted so lovey-dovey by so many but the reality is that all members (first parents, adoptive parents, and children) are lied to by agencies, social workers, lawyers, and ignorant people. I am so sorry you are enduring so much pain because of those lies and that you didn’t have the real support you needed during your pregnancy and birth of your son. Thank you for being willing to share your thoughts and pain so that more and more people can see the lies for what they are. I would love the password to read all of your posts, but understand if you prefer not to share it with me.

  • monk-monk says:

    I just came across this after a blogging hiatus, and it punched me in the gut. I can’t imagine the mixed emotions happening all at once. I hate adoption so much for this reason.

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