Sometimes, I want to walk away from adoption. No, scratch that… run away from my adoption.
Is that terrible?
I want to go back to the time where I didn’t know what adoption really was, and when it had no impact on my life. I want to go back to believing that adoption was as cliche and stereotypical as it is in the media. I want to go back to blogging without a face, and without a name. And sometimes, I wish that I could convince myself that walking away from The Kiddo and his family was a better choice. Because it would be the easier choice.
Because the position I am in right now, the feelings I have regarding myself, and my adoption experience, make me feel like running away would be far more productive than staying in this somewhat surreal, twisted world that is being a mother who relinquished.
I have battled with these thoughts countless times. I always find reasons to keep myself involved, to keep talking. To keep doing, and working at this. To keep waiting. Deep down, I know I’ve walked a long way since I began blogging openly. I know I have processed, I know that I am a much different woman than I was even two years ago.
The fight wages internally. The writing helps me process the trauma that occurred by losing my voice. The writing helps me work through things without repressing or getting angry four weeks later over paper towels being wasted. I like the community I have found online through this blog, and the amazing support it brings. I need it. It truly, truly helps.
Then of course, we have the reality of my adoption: The Kiddo doesn’t see me, know me or have a relationship with me. They talk to him about me, so they could keep doing so. But, the harsh truth is, if I am here waiting in the wings or over there ignoring this adoption, he’d never know.
Waiting, wanting, needing, it’s all part of this hidden side of semi-open adoption. It’s all part of the role I play. It’s all part of not being truly involved. It’s the part of adoption that I detest the most. I hate my role. I hate how I am demonized, even in a silent way. I hate that my opinions, and experiences have no bearing on the relationship, in the past or the future. I detest that I nod and smile, all in the effort of just having a little more.
It’s demoralizing. I try desperately to remain hopeful and optimistic, but I just…some days are just not easy. Some months, are not easy. Adoption is just not easy, ever.
I often feel like my staying around is doing a disservice to myself and how I feel about adoption. Then I remember that this isn’t about me, this is about making sure The Kiddo has access to me, when he wants it, if he ever wants it. I want him to know, despite what is happening in the life he is living without me, that I am here, I have always been here, and that I will always be here.
Yes, because that’s what mother’s do, right? Even those of us who don’t fit the technical profile. We still want our kids to know, adoption or not, that we are here.
Always, no matter what.
So I wait, and my running shoes stay untouched.