Promises, promises....

Dear Charlie,

As I pack and get ready to bring you home, I've been thinking about all the fun things we are going to do together, but also about all things I need to do for you. I'm imagining what type of mother I will be, and how I will accomplish the goals I have set for myself. I don't have it figured out yet, and I may never figure it out. So far, this is what I've got: I promise to give you all the "regular things" parents give their kids such as food, medicine, hygiene, protection, school, encouragement, comfort, cuddling, playtime, and a reliable schedule.

I also promise some unique things, just between you and me, our little twosome:

You will get to go back to Ethiopia with me one day.

We will play and eat with other Ethiopian adoptive families as often as possible.

You will never be the only child of color in your school.

I will read you a story as part of your nightly routine.

I will offer you the freshest, non-refined foods I can find.

I hope to teach you to recognize and cope with your emotions.

I will learn to make some Ethiopian dishes for us to enjoy.

I will learn to do your hair in ways that make you feel pretty.

We will honor your birth mother on Mother’s day and many other days.

I will offer you my support in dealing with any adoption issues or grief you may experience.

I will not expect you to fulfill all the goals I haven’t gotten around to fulfilling yet.

I hope to be a feminist role model, meaning an independent woman who is able to take care of herself, have a career, and have loving relationships.

I will give you choices in daily life, and even allow you to make mistakes. If you make big ones, I will stand by you as you fix them.

I will not rush you into growing up, and not infantilize you once you do.

I will validate your feelings.

I will allow you to explore your independence (although I may be holding my breath the whole time so please be quick about it and get it over quickly!)

I promise I will not use my saliva to clean your face.(Unless it’s an emergency and no one is watching.)

I won't be perfect in any of these pledges, but I will do my best.

Love,

Your Mama

Holding the first mama in one's heart...

It's a see-saw of emotions, this adoption journey. One the one hand, there is the joy of seeing pictures of one's soon-to-be child, hugging one's mother. On the other hand, there is the sadness of knowing a biological mother is most likely in grievous pain. Knowing my joy is at the expense of another woman's pain, is... well, it's hard to fully allow myself the joy part.

Adoption would not exist without loss. And with loss there is grief. On everyone's side, but especially the biological mothers' and childs'.

When I try to explain this to my friends and acquaintances, they then try to "make it better" for me. One response was along the lines of "that's fate, that's how the world works". Another was along the lines of "maybe you will raise her to be the one who goes back to Ethiopia and really changes things." And that's all well and good. And I appreciate my friends trying to make things better. BUT. It doesn't erase the fact that there is a mother somewhere in Addis, who made the decision, for whatever reason she had, to give her daughter up and has to deal with those feelings now.


I wish I could meet this woman and make her some promises. I imagine the not knowing is very difficult.... Obviously, I cannot speak for the birth mothers. I cannot imagine their emotions or maintain more than a seconds worth of empathy... that kind of pain isn't imaginable or sustainable unless you are going through it yourself. Not knowing if your daughter was one of the 'lucky ones" who ended up in a care center rather than a orphanage, who ended up being adopted by a 'rich foreigner' and will have all of life's luxuries including food, clean water and an education. Or worrying that she ended up in one of the over crowded orphanages with substandard care, got an illness, didn't survive... As a first mom, she is handing over her child, presenting her to the Gods, the world, the fates, and saying (in a way) : "I trust, I hope, please take good care of her..." and not knowing if anyone is listening or going to act on that prayer.

If I was a biological mother, I think knowing that someone was caring for her as her own mother, loving her as a mother should, not abusing her, and putting her first in all aspects... that might ease my heart just a little. Not totally, but it would be better than thinking she was in a horrible situation and that I relinquished her to that horrible situation. I would be looking to blame myself for anything bad that happened to her. As an adoptive mom, I am not judgemnental of the first moms at all.... but as a first mom, I know I would be judgemental of myself. We are always harder on ourselves than others, aren't we?


So I wish I could meet her mother, and thank her in whatever inadequate way I could think of. I wish I could assure her that we would be sending pictures frequently, visiting as often as finances allowed, and sending home made cards and remembrances on mother's Day or whatever the Ethiopian equivalent is...

My agency doesn't allow contact with the birth family at all. Some agencies do, once, in a very formal meeting. But mine doesn't. Apparently it is not something that is encouraged by the U.S. or Ethiopian governments. That makes me really sad. Also, for my daughter. I think as she gets older she will want to know about her first mother, and I will not be able to tell her much of anything.




Another blogger has put it in a much more eloquent way. I recommend her piece.