My life has been in a constant state of chaos for awhile. From being fired, to my mental health, to the ordeal with The Brother, and much more, I’ve been constantly moving emotionally. I feel like I’m waving my arms frantically, sprinting from one incident to the next like the clumsy fool I am. Grace, I do not have it.
In a split second, a moment of “what the fuck is the meaning of all this”, I contacted an medium/psychic who came recommended by close friends. Yeah, you heard me. If you are anything like my husband, you are smirking at my idiocy and rolling your eyes. Whatever, some people find God. I found a psychic.
Basically, it was a read on my kids now and in the future, but I was allowed to ask life questions. I paused and reflected on the things I really wanted to ask. What I wanted to know. I sort of felt like Aladdin with the Magic Lamp, knowing I had to ask wisely. With all the insanity surrounding my life right now, I had a lot of good questions for the universe. I didn’t want any more bad news, I wanted a glimmer of hope, a glimmer of something that I could use to say, “Keep pushing through this mess. You can do it, kid”.
Careful, I was.
Even with the lull that is happening in my adoption, for some reason, my first question ended up being about The Kiddo. Of course. Because though my life feels like it’s losing any sense of reason or logic, my heartache surrounding him is still at the forefront of all of my thoughts. Somehow, that grief still manages to leak through into my daily life, and put that never ending pit in my stomach. I want to make it go away, even when I know I can’t.
So I asked,
“Will I have a chance in the near future to have The Kiddo be in my life again? How can I help that process along?”
I waited with baited breath. I waited wondering if she would have the special key or password that would finally grant me the truly open adoption I wish for- a real relationship with my son and his family. I felt silly that I even had to ask. I felt like she would wonder why I wasn’t involved more, or if she would think I was strange for wanting more because that’s “not normal”. The other answers didn’t really feel like they had as much riding on them. No, this was the most important question I had in my whole entire being.
Then it came, the reply:
“Yes, I do think that you will be able to have a good relationship with your Kiddo in your life. I really feel that the mother right now is going to be hesitant, and she’s afraid that The Kiddo is going to pick you over her… what they are showing, is that you need to take things slow, and kinda make it “obvious” the to the parents that your interest is only as a “family friend” and not as his mother. If you approach it in this way, they will give you a chance to be in his life. She needs to know that you think of her as his mother as well (which is difficult I know!) But shes going to otherwise be resistant to more contact otherwise.”
There it was again, that damn “family friend” business. I scowled at that phrase, remembering it all too well from when we were deciding how I would “meet” The Kiddo at his baptism. My scowl deepened and I muttered, “But I am his mother. He has two mothers, and he’s damn lucky for that”.
I read the reading over and over again, the pit in my stomach deepening. Essentially, she was telling me, in order to be in The Kiddo’s life, I had to step back from my own ethics, and beliefs, putting myself in a place I feel is completely shameful. I have been the good, dutiful “birthmother”. I have respected their privacy, I have respected their space. I have never crossed any lines or boundaries. They are his family, and despite my heartache over losing him, I cannot undo what has been done. They are very much his family.
But so am I. The very idea that I completely toss aside my role as his natural mother seems utterly disrespectful.
My coffee in one hand, I relaxed back in the chair, shaking my head. I already knew this answer. I already knew they were willing to introduce us on those terms, and I had completely refused. Not because I want to mother him the same way I mother my children, but that I want him to know who I really am- the woman who gave him life. His mother is the mother who raised him, who has helped him grow and flourish. Neither one of us can negate the other.
The reality is that The Kiddo does have two mothers. Two Fathers. Four families. All of that, this big family that surrounds him, whether he knows it or not, does make up a part of who he is. All of us having something beautiful to contribute to his life and to him as a person. I have answers that his adoptive parents may not have, even in something as simple as how I move around a room. His mother, the one who adopted him, knows him better than I, and she likely always will. I respect that each of us, in this odd constellation have our own purpose, and role. He needs us all, in some form, for some reason, and he deserves that.
No, I don’t want to replace anyone’s role, or take away from their importance. I just want to be seen, and for that invisible birthmother cloak to finally be taken off, respectfully. Because, like The Kiddo deserves to have access to his family, I deserve to be completely respected for who I am in this relationship.
And that is, who I am, no matter what, his other mother.