Birthdays

My son's birthday is coming, soon. And today is my mother's birthday. My father's and brother's birthdays are coming up, soon. All fall within about a five week period. The season of birthdays.

I was invited yesterday to go along with my mother to meet the of her newest great grandbabies. I declined as I couldn't set myself up for the triggger of seeing my mother holding a new baby so close to my son's birthday. I know that it would take about three days for me to recover emotionally. It was a step in the right direction of self care.

I did accept the invitation to a party this weekend that was in part a birthday celebration for my mother. I decided that I could go for a couple hours with minimum recovery time later on for me.

It was great party with fun people and great food and hospitality. My mother and I even had the chance to talk for a while. My son and his adoption are topics we rarely about. Usually it is a just on the surface and in passing comment. I have learned not to let her in because she just wants me to be OK with it all. And I am not.

While we were sitting down, she pulled out some things she had saved for me; sweet things like baby cards and such. Then, someone came over to us and just started talking about the child that he has adopted. It was the kind of situation I am often in with people's cats. How do they know that I am allergic to them? The cats always gravitate towards me! And this new adoptive father found me, too.

I am not comparing this man to a cat. Please understand that.

This man seems like a kind person and he has adopted a child who really did need a new family. The child's mother had died and was in foster care.

In the middle of him telling his story, I wanted to bolt. I was afraid I could begin to cry and I did not want to be so vulnerable just then in from of my mother nor did I want to embarrass the hosts of the party.

Suddenly, I found my mother and myself having an indirect conversation embedded within this man's conversation about his own recent adoption.

I blurted out that his situation is the only time when adoption is good. ( Mom, the loss of my son to adoption was not adoption as it is meant to be. We shouldn't have let him go!)

The man talked more about his daughter and her loss and his struggle to help her with her feelings.

My mom said a couple of times, " Everything works out in the end." (Daughter, it all worked out alright. Don't you see, it all worked out?)

I wouldn't look her in the eye because I didn't want to even minimally validate her statements.

From the outside looking in, she might believe it all worked out because I do know my son, again.
I can't or perhaps won't tell her that it really didn't all work out so well. She needs to believe it did. And I need to keep my thoughts about adoption from her. I can't really explain clearly the reasons why other than that my relationship with my son is precious and I won't let any of my family interfere with it or damage it again.

Of course it all worked out. Everything works out with some end. Adoption works out to an end but for most of us with a lot of pain and confusion.