Tuesday, September 17, 2013

Dear John

My baby has brown eyes. Brown eyes with a silver haze. That's all he got from me. He wasn't born with brown eyes, and the shift from blue to brown was pretty quick. As if the 100% miniature version of Kevin wasn't enough, Kevin actually came in upset one morning that the baby had brown eyes, fingers crossed he has my spirit and study skills :)

I've never had to write a "Dear John" letter, mostly because some really stupid guys all left me first. (Insert laughter here). No really, if we were all judged by how we handled our break ups at 16 and 19 may the Lord help us all. If we were judged by anything we did from 14-20 I think we'd all shudder.... So sorry for my antics.

Many of you have followed our story of adoption via facebook, and now the blog. We've never hidden the fact that our kids came from a different background than what was "typical", but no family is typical. My husband gets a Kewpie doll tattoo for every child we get, only problem was we were done with three. So squeezing in the 4th, and then the 5th was a challenge. The artist asked what color Jaces' eyes are, for the Kewpie. Kevin and I kind of locked eyes..... "Well they are actually brown, but Im guessing Kevin will want blue"... "Yeah make them blue like the others". An odd phrase to stimulate a moms' mind from wandering down a daydream.

I never saw my babies eyes change, never. I got all of our kids at 14 months or older. For those of you that have read my posts you know I posted how the feeling on the day of my C section was the exact feeling on our severance day, when the kids were open to adopt. This is true. But as the days/months go by I would be lying if it doesn't feel different to look at a miniature version of your husband. Slight things like "Medical History" we can actually fill out (Not very Well Thanks Mom and Dad). My baby does pull ups and chin ups for fun, thats just hilarious. Now as an adoptive mom we did get the opportunity to meet our birth parents many times, not one all adoptive moms get. We know their Dad was slender, lean, tall, and had some athletic ability. Now thats a score coming from this couch lover, my sit-up is the one I do each morning. The only thing I remember of sports was my 8th grade PE coach yelling "Bethell get the hell off my field, you are a liability" after I couldn't finish my mile run. (Dont you miss the times you could say stuff like that to kids, but I digress). Recently I watched an amazing video of a woman adopted from Korea. Although she has no memory of her adoption she spoke of her heart in its state of being, versus the anticipating mothers. "To gain your family, I had to lose mine, I had to lose everything. Because you see this chapter, the one where you and I meet it gets awkward....... You dont have to listen to me and my heartache, my heart break, but you GET to".

Snap back to current time, Kevin getting a tattoo "So whats wrong with that women that she gave away her kids?". Its a question I take offense too, mostly because people assume if your child comes from abuse/neglect that that translates to hate for their birth parents. Of course a piece of you hates the actions, of course you do, the actions are horrible. Early on I decided that treating the birth parents, birth mom, with some level of respect would in the very least leave us open to watch the children grow up. Whether we kept them or not, we would be free babysitting, gas money, birthday gifts, car rides, whatever. So its a question I take offense too yes, but not one Im surprised by anymore. I suppose the majority of the world would not want anything to do with "such people" when you adopt from foster care. So Im different, im OK with different..... Our bio mom emailed four or five times the first year we adopted, then three times the following year, and now we are down to two... She wants to meet soon for lunch, because she is moving out of state. Not that we cant email still, but the reality of us ever sitting down to dinner is just not going to happen, that window has passed. I knew after severance that the distancing of ourselves from the birth mom should be like unpeeling an onion, layers removed one at a time. At first I did meet her for lunch once a year.... but as the emails get fewer and farther between I can see that the band aid has been ripped for her, and the tinge/pain has subsided. If she was even capable of feeling that tinge/pain coming from her own neglect history.

"There really wasn't alot wrong with her" I smile back "just alot of misguidance, misinformation, malpreperation, you know ill equipped". The artist nods. "Don't know how you do it, Id hate people like that". I get that alot. "Yeah but then, their blood runs through my child". They got to see their eyes change. They had the opportunity to learn what each cry meant, what each gesture meant, what things they discovered at ages 1, 2, and up to 7 years old. They had the opportunity, but they didnt take it. So do I relish in my newborn when I see glimpses of his dad? Yes. Do I post like crazy on facebook? Absolutely. Do I know instinctively what each noise he makes means? Yes. Because I get to. Not because I love him more. Because I get to. Theo didnt cry, he didnt move, he didnt really try to exist. He was stagnant. I didnt know what he needed, and he didnt know he was allowed to need me. He had been taught to cry was futile, so he was silenced. I thought I got the jackpot on easy kid. This is the part where his chapter and my chapter meet. The part where he loses everything he knows, to get to us. Where strangers are in his face, happy. While he is inside, terrified.......... This is the moment he loses speech, this is the moment his hands flap, this is the moment he stutters, this is the moment he rocks, this is that moment, that anxiety, that "processing issue" we see every single day. This is terrifying, this moment, and it lasts forever somewhere inside him.

So I will respond to the request to meet up with my first "Dear John". It was a day I knew would come for sure, and a day that needed to come. It's a bittersweet waving best wishes to someone that had no training, no capabilities, and no true childhood of their own. I imagine the next time we meet will be at the request of one of my grown children. Although we are mistaken for LDS , or as Gaffigan would say "Shiite Catholics", we are not religious people. I believe in Karma, doing what is right, admitting when you are wrong, and taking help when you can. I believe "Im sorry" means alot. I believe your God, my God, Buddha, Gandhi, Allah, and any of your blessed, divine creatures would support a belief system of "just do good, try hard, and try your best to remember we are all just making it day by day with no instruction manual here, and play well with others dang it". If I'm turned away at the pearly gates so be it, until then I think we are doing OK. If we find Jesus anytime soon I will let you all know, I promise.  

"All right man you are all done up, you got your five Kewpies with blue eyes, hows it look?" Perfect. Perfectly imperfect..............