# 31: MOTHER'S DAY (THE UNSENT LETTERS)

PAGE # 31

Saturday

5/12/12
The Night Before Mother's Day

Dear Birth Mother,


I've been thinking about you a lot, especially with Mother's Day being tomorrow.  I checked your Facebook page recently, and even though we are not friends there and your page is not public, I could see your profile picture and your friend list.


It looks like you changed your profile pic to one from when you were pregnant with Lily.  There is a man seated next to you, but the picture is cropped, so I can only see a fraction of his face.  I can't tell for sure, but it looks like it is Lily's biological father.


You look beautiful and happy in this picture.


Then, my gaze shifted down toward your friend list--I didn't click on it--I just saw the "featured friends" that a viewer sees on the side.  And I saw your name again, so I clicked on that.


I guess you have two Facebook accounts. 


This profile page, unlike the other, has the updated timeline feature.  The inset photo is one of you, your husband, and your two boys.  The large photo is a picture of a beautiful flower.  It's a lily.  Of course.


I started to feel a bit of panic, because having a therapist background, and a significant knowledge of complex trauma (both personal & professional), I could not help but view this as proof of dissociative phenomena.  NOT something severe like a multiple personality disorder.  Just that you might be fragmented now.  Like the pregnant mother you were got split off from the person you have to be now.  The mother you have to be without Lily.


I've felt a lot of anxiety since this Facebook discovery.  It's hard for me to figure out whether my concerns for you are accurate, or whether this is just some manifestation of my own PTSD.  My own transference issues, so to speak.  Perhaps it doesn't really matter.  Maybe it's a bit of both.


I had a vivid dream a few nights after this Facebook discovery.


In the dream, I had found Lily.  I was running with her.  I held her close; I was worried I might drop her by accident.  The landscape kept changing and it was hard to stay balanced.  I ran through fields of tall grass, through parking lots of empty cars.  I was looking for you.  I was trying to bring Lily back to you.  But I couldn't find you.  


When I woke up, it was still the middle of the night.  I was sweating and my toes were rounded and clenched.  My body felt weighted, like I was pinned down by some unseen force.  I wake up like this a lot nowadays, and I have to work really hard from launching into a full blown panic attack.  I'm usually okay during the daytime.  The panic episodes mostly happen at night.


My therapist has pointed out that my concern for you is a bit obsessive.  Perhaps.  I acknowledge that on some level, focusing on you has maybe protected me from feeling my own pain.  It is hard for me to give myself permission to cry about Lily.  I feel like I'd be usurping your grief somehow.  But during that therapy session, I was able to cry.  And I guess that's okay too.


Just today, the whole family was out shopping.  We were in the kids' department, buying new shoes for Sara.  I saw a baby--she had to be the same age Lily is now--so I got up real close to see if maybe she was Lily.  Remember the birthmarks Lily had under her nose?  The ones the nurse said were called stork bites?  I always look for those when I smile at babies.  The nurse said they would fade away eventually, but you never know.  


I guess I feel forever linked to you.  We both lost the same baby girl to the world of adoption.  She is your daughter, and I want you to know that we loved her too.


Happy Mother's Day to both of us.  


Jennifer 

# 22: PLEASE KEEP YOUR BABY!

PAGE # 22

Saturday

12/10/11
10:00 am


My good friend, Tracey, who is also an adoptive mom, wanted the latest update.  I sent her the following text message:

The social worker spoke with Kendra over the phone.  She said Kendra sounded very put together, asked thoughtful questions, etc.  Kendra said at first that she only wanted to see the baby briefly after the delivery, but now thinks she should spend time with the baby to say goodbye.  She doesn't know what to do with her two boys.  Social worker said they should come to the hospital to meet the baby, take pictures with her, and meet us too.  Tom and I really thinking that there is no way she can give up her baby.  Can you imagine her taking pictures with the baby and her two boys?  There is no way the mom is going through with this!  

Tracey wrote back:

Ricky's birth mom took plenty of pics with him before she left and spent the night with him at the hospital.  Obviously know that she can change her mind, but any of them can.  It is impossible for us to imagine any of them giving up their kids, but it happens because they know it's best for the baby.  You can't put yourself in their position because you have never been in their position.  I can imagine giving the baby up.  She is 24 and can't afford the 2 kids she already has.  Plus, it's not the husband's baby!

I read Tracey's message a few times, but I wasn't convinced.  Kendra and Johnny (her husband) came from affluent backgrounds--they could definitely afford the two kids they already had.  The problem, financially, sounded more like a potential punishment from Kendra's in-laws. 


Johnny was not the baby's father.  His parents probably didn't want a grandchild around who was not their genetic lineage.  Since Johnny worked for his parents' business, perhaps his job and income were at stake?


Johnny had told us that his parents were not supportive of his reconciliation with Kendra.  They wanted him to divorce her.  But Kendra and Johnny were officially separated when she became pregnant with this baby girl.  They already had two little boys together.  This baby girl had two half brothers!  Even if Kendra's in-laws hated her, had they no compassion for their two grandsons who were about to lose their baby sister?  


I looked at Tracey's text message again.  The following line struck me:


You can't put yourself in their position because you have never been in their position.


This wasn't entirely true.  I had never been in Kendra's exact circumstances, but I did have a "crisis" pregnancy once upon a time.  I was unmarried, 20 years old, and a college junior when I got pregnant.  I was definitely not encouraged to keep my baby.  I did (TJ is now 16), but the hardest thing about that time in my life was not the actual baby--it was the attitude of other people.  I had to summon all my strength and courage to endure the judgment and constant criticism from society.


I felt terrible for Kendra.  How could she summon that kind of energy when she already had two children to care for?  Why didn't her own parents want to help her?  This was their grandchild!  I couldn't understand any of it.  


Tom shared my heartbreak, but was more optimistic:


"Everyone is going to fall in love with this baby girl when she is born.  Believe me, her family is going to beg her to keep the baby!"


We agreed that this would be the best outcome for the little girl.  We talked about giving Kendra some money, as a Christmas present, for her and the baby.  We wanted to help them.  We imagined that we would remain in contact.  Tom was certain that an adoption would take place, just not an adoption of the baby.  He was convinced that Kendra was going to adopt us-- as an aunt and uncle for her baby girl!


We were back to our rescue fantasy.  During earlier times, when Tom and I had casually discussed adoption, we always envisioned ourselves providing a home for a baby who had nothing.  But this baby had a beautiful family!


I read blogs and message boards online, but could not relate to other prospective adoptive couples.  Other couples were literally praying to get the baby--not secretly hoping that the real mom would choose to parent instead.  


"That's because you guys are not desperate," Tracey told me.  "When I was adopting Ricky, I just wanted a baby.  It's all I thought about."


I guess that's why I didn't find any online camaraderie.  I already had two biological children.  Kendra already had two biological children.  I was more psychologically identified with Kendra than with other hopeful adoptive couples--and I felt sadness and confusion.  


If there had been more time.  If this baby hadn't appeared out of nowhere.  If I wasn't racing around to prepare for a newborn--I might have called my former therapist and scheduled some emergency sessions.  


Adoption is portrayed in the media as this wonderful event, but actually it is a time of tremendous crisis.  Adoption always involves loss, trauma, and grief.  It may even involve coercion.  And the transfer of a life, from one family to another, imprints layers of mystery upon everyone involved. 


The image of a stork bringing me a baby was definitely fading away.