Tuesday, August 8, 2017

The Simple Times

This blog has been sitting in my draft folder for a few weeks.  I usually don't sit on posts for that long.  I'm not sure why I'm nervous about this one.  But it's something that has been on my mind a lot, and I finally decided to publish. Out of my brain, and into the blogosphere...

Image courtesy of Andrew d'Entremont

Sometimes I wish this could last forever. This stretch of time where I'm everything she needs; I'm the center of her world and she's the center of mine. When she's sad or upset, a hug or a kiss from me will usually do the trick, and all is right again. But at some point, she's going to grow out of this stage. And I won't be all she needs anymore.

We have an open adoption, and Aria has a relationship with her birth mother. And at some point, there will be questions that I can't answer. She may feel hurt, curious, angry, sad, confused, or a combination of all of these things. I think about this a lot, even now. She will have a right to these emotions, and I will give her space to feel them. It's impossible to tell when or to what degree she will feel these things, and my hope is that when she does, she never forgets how much she's loved.

We're already showing her pictures of the adoption, and telling her stories about it. But right now it's just words and images that she can't comprehend. Will there be a pivotal moment, a sudden realization that she's adopted? Will it be gradual, or just become a part of who she is without remembering when she was first told? I don't know and I hope I'm doing this right. I hope I don't share too little, or too much. Too soon, or too late.

My biggest fear, is that she will question her "belongingness". I hope she never doubts herself, who she is to me, and to our family. She is my rainbow after the storm, my wish come true, my greatest hope and dream come to fruition. She is my whole world and my love for her is boundless, and it makes absolutely no difference that she wasn't born from my belly. She grew in my heart and I love her more than anything in the world. I never want her to doubt that.

But despite all of that, she will eventually grow up. Hugs and kisses won't be the answer to every heartache. She may want to explore her heritage, find her birth father, search for biological siblings, and try to patch together the tapestry of her ancestry. And I'll support her along the way. It's my responsibility as her adoptive mother to encourage her to find the answers to whatever questions she may have, and advocate for her no matter what.

Adoption is beautiful, and I'm so grateful. I have faith that everything will turn out alright, and that love will carry us through it all. But I can't help but worry for her. I want the absolute best for her, and I will do the best that I can, as her mother. I may not be perfect, but I hope I get this right.

2 comments:

  1. This is beautiful and made me teary-eyed. We didn't adopt, but we do have an exchange daughter who has become our daughter. I recently started blogging about our infertility journey and have joined the childless community. My fear is that our exchange daughter will think this lessens our love, our relationship, our family. I'm going to share this post with her because you eloquently put into words how I feel about our daughter. She is definitely "my wish come true."

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