Jul 23 2012
The Hereafter
Photo by Camdiluv via Flickr Creative Commons
“In three words, I can sum up everything I know about life: it goes on.” — Robert Frost
I love this quote. It applies to… well… pretty much any situation. It offers straightforward, factual comfort.
Since I started this blog over two years ago, the adoptive parent/birth parent relationship has been a common topic among many of my posts. It has always been a sort of enigma– a mystery that I could never pin down regardless of constant analyzation. All that I know is what has already unfolded. However, my busy mind tends to fill in the cracks with questions and assumptions.
The last time we heard anything from Baby Boy’s birth parents, he was two months old. For reference, he is seven months old now. We’ve sent monthly updates with photos, we’ve sent cards, and we’ve sent hand and foot prints. I wasn’t sure if they received them or whether they asked the agency to hold on to them for a while as they tried to heal. I just continued to send things, per our agreement, and hoped for the best.
As my love for Baby Boy deepens with each day, so does my concern over handling the subject of adoption with him appropriately. We’ve always wanted our child to know from the very beginning that he was adopted, but research makes the HOW to do it seem … simple. Now that I know him, it doesn’t seem as simple. What I mean is– I really, really want to make sure we do it just. right. I don’t want him to ever feel unwanted, which from all the adoption literature I’ve read is a common feeling among adoptees. I want him to understand just how wanted he was (is), not only by us but by his birth parents as well. We saw their grief and heartbreak with our own eyes. We talked candidly with them about their anger, guilt, and agony surrounding his adoption. I am thankful that we can tell him these things later down the road.
But.
I want more for Baby Boy. I want to tell him on a regular basis, “your birth mom and dad send their love.” I want him to feel doubly loved– because he is. I want to be able to tell him how they are doing– because I know. I don’t want them to disappear– for Baby Boy’s well being and for my peace of mind. If he ever feels abandoned or unloved, that will be the most significant failure of my life.
That brings me to the reason I am grinning and sniffling right now. After five months of crickets and increasing concern for them, I got an email.
Simply put, they are doing well, and they send their love to Baby Boy.
I have to take a moment to still my bursty heart….
Before this time last year, I never, ever thought I’d type this, but I am SO SO SO SO glad to hear from Baby Boy’ s birth parents. I can’t actually say it at this point because there’s a bull frog in my throat, and my eyes are swimming.
Yet again, I am learning a lesson along this journey. If you ever find yourself facing a life event and the question, “…then what?” crosses your lips, remember this:
“In three words, I can sum up everything I know about life: it goes on.”
It goes on– for everyone. Thank goodness.
Great news! I know it’s a relief to hear from them.
I know that bursty heart feeling well and it’s a feeling that not many people outside the situation really understand. I’m so happy for you and your family (your WHOLE family).
They are often on my mind and I am so glad they are doing well! And it is not only you and K who share the job of making sure Baby Boy knows how loved he is- we all feel that responsibility and privileged. All of us. Aunts, uncles, friends from forever, friends from RO, grandparents, 3rd cousins- we are all in this together. To know BB is to love BB. Don’t worry- you will not face that failure <3
Susan, it really, really was.
Des– thank you! You are right, though. I didn’t TRULY understand it until I was in it.
Ash- <3 <3 <3