I had a coffee yesterday afternoon with the woman who has adopted and fostered locally. It was good. She was very honest, open and forthcoming. But as I suspected - adoption is not a box of fluffies. It comes with a whole heap of issues and there is no escaping them. It is simply part of the adoption triad (the birth family, the adoptive family and the adopted child).
There is a nagging feeling within me to keep going with the adoption process even though it is a hard option to pursue. It is breaking my heart to let go of our dreams to have another biological child. I loved, loved being pregnant. Perhaps I knew way back when - way back before there was any hint that infertility was on the horizon - that my one and only full-term pregnancy was an experience I should relish. Because I did. I can honestly say that I was blown away by the wonder of it all. The symptoms, my growing belly - a life growing within me that we created. It was absolutely miraculous.
No wonder I wanted to do it all again. Because my daughter was delivered via an emergency c-section - and I had a general - I didn't experience labour. I feel so incredibly ripped off about that. Perhaps part of wanting another biological child was the hope that I could go through labour.
Breastfeeding has been one of the most amazing experiences in my life. Without a doubt; that act bonded my daughter and I so very deeply. I still wake up in the night sometimes a few seconds ahead of her stirring - I seem to be in so tune with her needs day and night.
Facing the adoption process as the only option to add to our family has not been an easy process for me. To let go of all those things that I cherished: pregnancy and breastfeeding has been a difficult thing to do. I'm not sure I will ever completely get over the pain of having a redundant uterus as such. I am certain I am grieving my reproductive loss in mind, body and soul - the grief runs so very, very deep.
Yet the other day as I cringed inwardly as tribes of Mums of Many traipsed past this Mum of One in the school- yard I heard God tell me in a rather confrontive way that I could either continue to cry about all the baby, sibling and bumps sightings; or I could do something about it and continue with the adoption process.
Sigh. So that is what I will do. The woman I had coffee with re: adoption/fostering said she really didn't enjoy the adoption process much at all and that is why she ended up fostering so she didn't have to go through it again. It sounded as although it has taken her years to heal - that she has made peace with her situation, but her IF scars are still there. Holding a baby in her arms that was hers was incredible, she said. That certainly elimnated some of the pain. But I think IF is with her for life as I fear it will be with me. It has taken me a while to accept that - I had hoped it was a pain that I would eventually move past/get over.
Through-out the aftermath of SIF I have come to realise and accept on some level that life does come with the unexpected. We all think tragedies shouldn't happen to us. But are we just a little naive in the Western world, thinking that it's all about 2.4 kids, the house and the white picket fence? When we don't fit the mold we feel as though something is wrong with us and that we don't belong.
Yet I have read some books over the last few months c/- the book club I go to that have challenged these beliefs. In third world countries where tragedy is a part of everyday life; expectations are low. Children die and families are separated because of circumstances. That is the norm in these parts of the world. The grief is shared openly and honestly - and then families move on, operating the best they can with what they have.
Tragically, a friend of my mum's granddaughter died over a week ago. She was two years old. It is very, very sad. Everyone is so shocked. But I'm not. Sure, I'm shocked that a young life ended too soon and all that. But I am not shocked that an unexpected tragedy has occurred. That is just the way life goes. Post-SIF I feel as though nothing will shock me in life anymore. Perhaps I have become cynical. But I think loss and grief are just part of life - we will never know when we will face a tragedy in our lives - but we will all have to face something sooner or later. I feel as though I have lost my own biological child - and no one else will ever see it that way. It still hurts that the sympathy is virtually nill. But I too should have a two year old right now that has been buried in my mind several times over.
Somehow I am letting go of perfection in life. I can't have the perfect family. I fit outside the 2.4 kids and the white picket fence. But it doesn't mean something beautiful can't be created from this lost dream. Adoption is essentially about putting a few broken souls together - a broken woman who cannot have another child in our case with a child whose birth parents don't think they are able to care for him or her.
As we learnt from the education and preparation programme; loss is what brings these two parties together. So perhaps we can help heal each others wounds a little: a baby in my arms would help my maternal cravings and a secure home could help a child who needs a home and parents to love him or her. But I will probably never forget that, if adoption works out for us, that it came from a place of pain and despair for me that will perhaps always be there in the background. The adopted child will always be adopted - and there is no way that will ever be forgotten either. Two broken pieces don't always make a whole. But it might come close. I'm getting that adoption will come with some cracks but that at the end of the day, if we get picked, that we will all hopefully be able to live contently with those cracks and imperfections.
No comments:
Post a Comment