adoption related mushiness

I don’t want you to be grateful: a letter from your (adoptive) mother

People are going to tell you you’re lucky. They already have. They look at you and look at me and know I’m your adoptive mother. And they tell you you’re lucky. Don’t listen to them.

You never have to feel grateful for your adoption. We don’t have to have special gratitude for something that is inherently ours. And my love? That’s yours. It was yours before we met. It will be yours when time is gone. It was, and is, your right to have. My love for you is something I want to be so part of your being that it doesn’t cross your mind to even contemplate its existence. Take it for granted. Assume it will always be there. Because it will.

the stranger who will be my son

It won’t be long now, they’ll be placing a child in my arms, and I’ll become his mother. And he won’t know who I am. He’ll look at me and won’t recognize me, won’t love me, won’t have any bond to me. And I’ll be his mother. So I’ll do what mothers do. I’ll hold him, and rock him, and feed him. I’ll kiss him and tell him in a language he doesn’t understand that pretty soon things won’t be so new, pretty []

expectations of love

A few days ago I woke up in the middle of the night to a little voice calling “mommy! mommy! mooooomyyyyyy”. The little voice crawled from down by our feet where he likes to sleep on top of the covers up towards me. Then his plead changed to “quish! quish!” So I gave him a little squish and he settled down in my arms to fall asleep again. That’s it. No big deal. It only changed my life. I remember the first []

a true story and a note about onesies

True story: On Friday night our adoption agency contact emailed us with pics of K. I wrote back. “I love you. If you send me an email Monday morning telling me we have our <name of paperwork we’ve been waiting forever on> I will love you forever.” Monday she emailed me to say we had it and would have a scanned copy the next day. I’m debating between flowers or chocolates to celebrate our undying love.  I already owe her a statue []

the second time around

I have a constant sense of deja vu lately.  Like I’m in in my own adoption-themed version of groundhog day.  But I’m not repeating a day I’m repeating a year.  We accepted our two referrals almost exactly thirteen months apart.  And it’s a strange feeling going through the holidays and feeling so many of the same feelings I felt last year.  Thinking the same hopeful thoughts of “next year our family will be together.”  Waiting on the same paperwork.  I even got []

twenty three pictures

Dear Thane: During our wait for you the best part of each month was getting update pictures.  We must have stared at each set for hours, taking in each expression you made, marveling at each glimpse into your personality. Memorizing each freeze framed moment of your life that we were given.  Twenty three pictures, that’s how many we have of you during those first seven and a half months of your life. I cherish each and every one.  Even the silly ones []