Tag Archives: Proud

The Weirdest Day of Every Mom’s Life

27 Aug

Dear Little Man,

Yesterday, the best and worst thing that could ever happen, happened.

Ever since I met J, I’ve watched her send Sports Man to school. When I met him, he was about to go into 2nd Grade. She told me about how he didn’t want to go because they had just adopted you a couple weeks beforehand, and he didn’t want to leave you. The year after that, when he started 3rd Grade, I drove down and spent the day with her — partially to see you and partially to hang out with her since she’s not a fan of “the first day of school.” Last year, she posted about how crazy it was that he was getting so big and this year, she told us how she cried driving him to his first day of 5th Grade.

I told her I would drive down to visit next year since I don’t think she could actually drive the car through all of the tears she’ll have going on his first day of (gulp) middle school. To which she responded , “You and I might just need to cry and hold each other for a little while because on Monday, Little Man starts preschool.”

Yesterday, you started preschool.

Okay, so it’s only three days a week for half days, but still…it’s school. It’s a milestone. It’s a big event. And according to J, you were super pumped. You ran right over to the toys and the other kids and you got right down to business. You weren’t the kind of kid who cried when his mom left; you were the kind who cried when he had to leave school. But right now, school mostly consists of toys and play time, so I guess I’m not surprised. Either way, I have to admit, that makes me proud. Plus if I were J, and you did cry when I dropped you off, I might die a little on the inside. And then whisk you home and never let you go ever again. I’m weak that way.

My baby officially goes to school. And before I know it, I’ll be seeing you off to your first day of 5th Grade. But for now, you are three and you are in preschool and you are blissfully unaware of how fast you are growing up. Unfortunately for me and J and parents all over the world with children in school, we are acutely, almost agonizingly aware of how quickly you are speeding away from the infant who used to fit perfectly in our arms.

So even though I didn’t get to be there in person — and even though you loved going — I officially became a mom who cried on her child’s first day of school. The upside of this is that J now has a crying buddy. The downside is that now both of us will be crying too hard to drive either of you anywhere. That’s probably the real reason behind why school buses were invented.

It was a big day for everyone. There was laughter, there were tears, but most importantly…there were pictures :)

Cutest backpack ever? (Nice job, J!)

Cutest backpack ever? (Nice job, J!)

 

You're a big boy like Sports Man now!

You’re a big boy like Sports Man now!

You're already making friends :)

You’re already making friends :)

And playing with trains...look how excited you are! I love it :)

And playing with trains…look how excited you are! I love it :)

Off you go...and so it begins <3

Off you go…and so it begins <3

Thank you for the pictures, J, they were perfect :)

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My Son Was Adopted…Now What?

15 Jan

After a baby is adopted, a birth mother doesn’t just go home and pick up where she left off. Everything is different then. Nothing is “normal” anymore. The bed where you slept so comfortably is now the place where you spent your first few minutes of labor. The porch where you like to sit on summer days is now the place where you took all of your maternity pictures. All of your Facebook friends with babies seem like they’re rubbing your face in their motherhood. The sun streaming in through the kitchen windows doesn’t make you smile anymore. Everything feels…off.

That’s how I felt. I felt like I was coming home, but I didn’t belong there anymore. I didn’t fit anymore. Everyone was going about their business but my entire perspective had shifted. My world was different from everybody else’s but I was still expected to live in their world with them. My sense of belonging wasn’t the same. I think that’s because I felt like I belonged with you.

After you went home with The B’s, I made a lot of changes. Not because I planned them, but because I realized I had to. I had to change. I had to do something. Anything to distract myself. Anything to keep moving forward, because if I didn’t, I might get stuck in that sad place forever.

Though I planned to keep living with my parents while I “recovered,” I moved onto campus. Since I lived with them while I was pregnant (my first semester at The University), I had yet to get involved in campus-type stuff. Suddenly I realized that I wanted that college experience (and I do mean suddenly). I decided that I wanted to be the college student that everyone else got to be. So that weekend (yes, that suddenly), I moved out of my parent’s three bedroom, two story house into a single room I shared with one girl and a bathroom that I shared with three.

I became a workaholic. I worked at a restaurant as a server at the time, and I dove into it. I picked up shifts, worked late even if I didn’t have to and went out after my shifts with my co-workers just to make it last longer.

I started running. I ran around campus, and once I discovered the university gym, I ran there. Sometimes, I kept a workout journal to log my miles. Sometimes, I just put on my running shoes and took off and didn’t bother to count.

I joined clubs and went to campus concerts and took up snowboarding (and fell down a lot) and signed up to go to Greece the following summer and declared my major and went on midnight trips to Cookout and basically said ‘yes’ to everything. Except drugs of course. Nancy Reagan need not be ashamed.

You know that saying, “You can sleep when you’re dead”? I took that saying to heart. If I was already in bed and someone called asking me to come out, I got up.

I don’t know if this sounds good or bad, but part of the reason why I became so “do or die” that year was because I figured since I gave you up — since I was going to have to live without you — I might as well live. I was going to live as fully as I could. I owed that to you, but I also owed to to me. I owed it to myself to live a wonderful life.

I hated missing you. It always hurt so bad and since I missed you everyday, I hurt everyday. So whenever I would miss you, I tried to think of how happy you were, growing up with your family. Then, I tried to think about me…I would think about me and how I could be happy too.

For quite a while, I felt guilty for giving you up. I felt like I was being selfish and that if I was less selfish, I would have given everything up to raise you myself. But even then — even thinking that — I still knew I loved you. I loved you so much. And the reason I could never bring myself to give everything up to keep you was because it still wouldn’t have been enough. It wouldn’t have been enough to give you the childhood I had, the life you deserved.

But placing you for adoption didn’t give me “freedom.” It was a sacrifice. It hurt. And while the pain has lessened through the years and through my incredible relationship with The B’s (who I truly owe for taking that pain away), I still miss you. Every day.

But instead of hurting when I miss you, I can smile now.

I can smile because I have updated pictures. I can smile because I can think about how I saw you last weekend. I can smile because I can write to you. I can smile because somehow, missing you gave me new life. You went to a loving family to live a beautiful life and though I felt broken and left behind, I was able to put a new me back together. Someone you can be proud of; Someone who will be able to tell you amazing stories of her Grecian adventures or funny stories about her midnight Cookout runs with her dorm buddies.

And at the end of the day, I want to be able to tell you that all of those stories — of adventure or triumphs or just plain silliness — were thanks to you, and my desire to be someone you take pride in. I’m already proud of you. It’s only fair that it goes both ways :)

Recovery happens. Sadness ends. Time heals. Birth mothers get better and adoptive parents can help them. New life is created…in the form of you and, now, in the form of me. That’s why I have hope. That’s why I have never regretted my decision. Because you are happy — and because of that, so am I. We’re survivors, you and me, and we have our whole lives ahead of us to be incredible. I know you will be. So…now what? :)

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Wanna Talk About Me, Wanna Talk About I

29 Mar

 I am aware that I am a biased person when it comes to you. I know for a fact that I cannot and will never be able to view you objectively. But I grant myself pardon because what parent isn’t like that when it comes to their own child? You see, to me, you are the cutest baby ever born, you were the best baby there ever was, and basically, you just do everything better and earlier than any other baby who’s ever been born. Probably not a fair judgment, but like I said…I’m biased. And since parents everywhere think the same thing of their children, I’m also not alone.

Of course, this “overestimation” in your abilities (which is not at all an overestimation in my humble opinion) extends to your brilliance. Yes, brilliance. You, my dear son, are incredibly smart. You can already say the alphabet and recognize letters and numbers. And you don’t just recite the alphabet – you actually know what letters come after which (as J told me yesterday)! You can count to twenty. You pick up on new things incredibly fast, and from everything I’ve heard in my developmental psych class about “the age that babies develop the ability to (fill in the blank),” you are always ahead of the power curve. I brag about you a lot. Even if those things weren’t true, I couldn’t be prouder of you.

Speaking of my developmental psychology class, (I know, I refer to it a lot, but it’s just so relevant!) we were discussing the other day about the age when toddlers start to recognize themselves. My textbook says it’s generally at or a little after age 2 that kids start to recognize themselves in pictures or videos or even the mirror. However, I happen to know that you’ve been able to recognize yourself for a long time. Last time you visited, one of the ways we kept you entertained was to show you videos. I showed you ones I took that day and your parents showed you ones they’d taken over the past few months. Any time you saw yourself, you would point to yourself in the video and say, “Me!” And you’re still four months away from being two years old. Who woulda thought?

But actually, that was not the first time you demonstrated your ability to recognize yourself. You did that even earlier. E sent me a video at the beginning of February depicting your new (and fairly prodigious) skill, which means you were able to recognize yourself even before that.

I know, it’s a small feat, but I get incredibly excited over the little things you learn to do. You could learn the word “garbage” and I’d squeal about it for days, telling everyone I know. I know it’s silly, but I can’t help it. I just get so proud of you! I know a majority of your smarts comes from having wonderful parents who give you books and educational games and sit with you for hours on end while you learn the alphabet. I’m sure it also comes from having a brother who loves to teach you things. But there’s a little part of me that likes to think maybe it’s just your stellar genetics (I graduated high school with highest honors, and have been on the Dean’s List every semester of college. Just saying). Maybe mama had a little something to do with it ;)

Also, you’re insanely adorable when you learn to do new things, which is also partly the reason why I brag so much – you’re just so cute and you make me so happy, I figure I should spread the joy. Kind of like this :)

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