After thinking about Ruth’s email and reading the conversation over at Dawn’s blog for a couple of days, I’m left with one conviction: When, in a prebirth matching relationship, you are all answering the question “What would your ideal open adoption look like?” the answer is probably “I have no earthly idea.”
Okay, that’s hyperbolic, but in many ways I did have no idea. I certainly didn’t feel like a mom when we were writing up our open adoption agreement, and I spend those months afraid that I would do something to scare Ruth and Nora off. They were my only plan. I didn’t know that visits would be hard, and I also didn’t understand that I’d miss him. I certainly had no idea that some nights I’d wonder what it would be like to have him sleeping next to me, between us. I knew that I wanted to name him; beyond that, I think I could have been pushed pretty far. Figuring out what I want over a year into the relationship kind of sucks—my consolation is that what I want will probably keep evolving, as will the wants of Cricket’s moms.
In the meantime, I do worry that our relationship is going to suffer a bit. My natural inclination (which I’ll fight whenever I feel up to it) is to pull away—not to email as often, not to ask about the next visit. I think it would be best if I can go on as if nothing has changed…and in a way, nothing has changed. I don’t see them as quite perfect anymore, but as I said to Mr. Book last night, that just leaves them as really excellent. I think I wanted to see them as perfect in part because of story women making an adoption plan get told: if I can’t parent because I wouldn’t be the perfect mom, I really need to pick the perfect adoptive parents for my son. I suspect that those Platonic PAPs don’t exist, but there are a lot of wonderful people out there, and wonderful is surely good enough.
I talked to my mother, and she asked me to get pregnant again. The first time my parents asked me to replace Cricket was three weeks after his birth—I keep kvetching about this, but it keeps coming up. =/ My therapist said on Monday that she thinks that it’s reasonable of my mom to keep asking for a grandchild because she lost one. I think this may be my week to stop feeling sorry for myself (for a bit) and try to see from other people’s points of view.
I do feel a bit self-conscious; I done got linked, and now people new to my little blog are seeing me not at my best—this entry is being written under the influence of no sleep (again). It’s also hard for me to disagree with people in a dialogue; don’t get me wrong, I do it, but I get anxious and broody about it. I try to explain that I was hurt by what you said, yes, but that doesn’t mean I think you were wrong, or wrong to say it; that I feel that I’m being made to stand in for positions I consider but don’t necessarily advocate for; that I’m just thinking out loud here, and I don’t want to bother anyone. But after all that, I am what I am and I’ve said what I have.