This will not be a adoption triad sensitive post. I can sense it already. So if you are someone who reads my blog because you are friends with Brit's parents, just go ahead and stop right now. If you are an adoptive parent who doesn't want to know about birthparent grief, this post is not for you either.
If you feel the need to post something mean spirited toward me after you read this, please don't. I have plenty of self-loathing to go around so I don't need anyone else to send any more hatred my way. I have that covered all by myself.
This is going to be a pouring out of my heart that is not meant to hurt anyone, but is a vent for my anguish. It is not meant to blame, but it may come off that way. I am sorry in advance if it does, but this is my blog. And my heart hurts.
I have just a few minutes until I leave for a meeting but I have something weighing so heavily on my heart, I have to type it out.
Brit's parents are having twins. Due this summer. A boy and a girl.
I also have a friend who has a set of twins, also boy and girl, who were born at a similar time of year. Therefore, my friend has matching outfits that would be great for Brit's brother and sister. So, like I would do for any other friend, I went to my friend's garage sale a couple of weeks ago and bought a few matching outfits so I could give them to Brit's family for the new babies.
When I got the most recent monthly email from Brit's mom, I replied back that if they were ever out and about I had several outfits I would love to get to them for the twins. She emailed me back and said her husband keeps saying he needs to stop by where I work so maybe the next time he is here he can pick up the clothes. She thanked me for thinking of them and said they would definitlely be welcomed as she knows they will need so many things having twins.
So I brought the bag of the clothes to work. I have had the bag sitting outside my office door with Brit's dad's name on it all week.
I decided today that I am going to have to move it. It is hurting my heart to see it sit there.
I live 10 minutes from Brit and her family. I could run it over to their house in a heartbeat. But I can't because I am not a part of their life.
They have friends who can stop by and see Brit. But I can not.
Brit's neighbors know what Brit looks like and how she plays outside. My kids do not. They are not allowed to see their biological sister. They are not allowed a relationship with her.
When we had Christmas gifts for Brit, my BF met Brit's father at a sports bar - 5 minutes from both of our homes, so we could give the gifts to him to take home to Brit. I wasn't even invited to be part of the exchange.
Why don't I have adoptive parents like so many of you? I read adoptive parent's posts and articles about how they wish they lived closer to their child's birthfamily so they could get together.
I live 10 minutes from them. 10 minutes. It might as well be 1,000 miles.
We chose these parents because we wanted our daughter to grow up in the same community as our boys, so they would have similar childhood experiences.
We wanted them to be close so we could share in her life.
Instead, I am tormented as I look down every aisle at the grocery store, hoping and praying that I could catch a glimpse of them shopping there at the same time.
I know my boundaries. I know when I am not welcome. I am a civilized, professional, adult mother of many children myself. I am not going to interject myself into their lives unwelcomed.
I do not drive by their house. I never ever call them. I send cards on holidays, which I believe to be an appropriate time to do so.
But I want to be a part of their lives. I want to be welcomed.
I have never received a card from them. Not on my birthday, not on mother's day. Not ever.
The same mother who text messaged and called me when I was pregnant has never once sent me a text or called me since the day they took my daughter home with them. While I am very grateful for the monthly email with pictures (and I pray they never stop them), it does not replace sincere interaction. Monthly reporting is not the same as conversation.
I shared everything with them when I was pregnant. Pictures, stories, even the entire birth of their daughter. I wanted them to know me, my kids and my life. I wanted them to know that they were now a part of my family.
What I didn't realize was that everything was going to change once Brit went home with them.
I know my daughter is loved by them. I know she is happy. They have never once said anything unkind to me directly.
But if I would have known then what I know now, I would not have made the decision I did.
I pray that my daughter will want to know me and us. I pray that she is just like me and she begs her parents to let her see us. I hope she wants to talk to me as badly as I want to talk to her.
I guess that is what I have to do. Pray that the child will change their hearts, if nothing else does.
I hate this.
So much for making it to my meeting. My eyes are nearly swollen shut. Looks like I'm stuck at my desk for the rest of the day.
It is amazing how one decision has changed me from the happy go lucky girl I once was, to a shell of a person just trying to keep it all together.