Monday, April 05, 2010

concerning the girl we don't call birthmother

Here's the truth.

Sometimes it is hard to see the truth of a situation because of the circumstances.

Sometimes the facts muddle everything up and make a tender berry plant look like a pesky weed.

Sometimes the judgements of men destroy the beauty of truth.

We don't call the girl who gave birth to Henry "birthmother". She prefers we didn't. She has made it quite clear that the title of mother isn't hers to claim. She sees herself as a vessel in the hand of the Lord. Even in her darkest hour, she listened to the still small voice. She agreed to the path less taken. It is a path fraught with emotional brambles. She answered yes to this course.

She sacrificed her story so that we might begin ours.

The facts of the story are amazing and make for great chitter chatter. "She did what? And then this? Oh and did you hear..."

But here's the truth.

This our story. This is the story of the way our children came to our family. As a mother, this story sits deep in my heart. It is beautiful and miraculous and framed with type of love that only the people involved will ever experience. I would fight to the death to preserve the sanctity of it.

The true nature of adoption seems to be lost on most. It is a complex principal. It is an extended course of study for those that choose to undertake it.

The hospital social worker came by. She congratulated me on not having to go through the pain of birth. She questioned me down on the facts surrounding our sons birth. She made some observations.

I stood blinking back rage and wondering if she also pops into random offices on the University campus to offer up opinions on biomechanics and advanced engineering.

This is what I really want to say. This is what I want the girl we don't call birthmother to know. It's the truth as I know it.

Hey- It's you and us and the Lord. Everything else is confetti.

All photos by the photo zoo. Available here.


Jeanette said...

Bravo. Bravo! So beautifully said and the images are perfect. I love this one..."Sometimes the judgements of men destroy the beauty of truth". Perfect. I remember, after my sixth miscarriage, my sister in law said "at least it didn't hurt as much as giving birth". I had already given birth once and I remember thinking, she has no idea how much more it hurt. So very much more. Inspiring post.

Stef said...

What a beautiful story you have. Congratulations again.

Elizabeth said...

So beautiful -- and profound. From personal experience, I can attest to the idiocy of hospital social workers. I have never, ever met one that didn't seem inane.

I love the confetti image -- you are a miracle and your family conjured from grace and love --

Kari said...

You--all of you--are in our thoughts and prayers.
May you find peace in your own hearts and silence on the lips of those around you.

Laura said...

there is a beautiful book in all of this...

what a beautiful story you tell so well

From the Kitchen said...

Swaddle yourself, your family and precious baby Henry in the knowledge that a young woman did what was right for all of you. Inane words coming from a "professional" can't really touch any of you. Forget and bask in the love of your growing family.


Anonymous said...

so lovely, congratulations.

Deb said...

I love what you have said here and how beautifully you have said it... I am adopted and have struggled for much of my life with the ignorance and opinions of those who think they understand my situation and make judgements without having a clue. In fact, I didn't tell anyone for years that I was adopted (including my closest friends) because I got sick of trying to make them understand something that was as far removed from them as biomechanics and advanced engineering ( that illustration, by the way!) My family is my family. I only have one. One set of parents. One family that I am completely a part of. And I love that. I also love that I have my own story and now that I am older, I am more confident to tell that story without worrying about the people who cast their ill-informed opinions and judgements. As you say, it is all confetti. This is my life; not theirs.

Thanks for sharing... and congratulations on your new little bundle. What joy!

Gina said...

I'm sorry you even had to write this post (I hope you know what I mean by that). You have a family--YOUR GOD GIVEN FAMILY! And the person who you don't refer to as the birthmother is an important part of it. I wish as many blessings for her as I do for you.

Melissa said...

Beautiful!! Adoption is such a beautiful thing and I'm blessed to be able to be a part of it! I just love the way you're able to express this through words! So inspiring and sacred.

Tina S said...

I am adopted. My Daddy is laying in a hospital bed in the family room dying of brain cancer as I type this. I have not left him for two weeks. I would have had a hard time not slapping the social worker.

melanie, aka Mo said...

I have never been to your blog. I stumbled on it by chance tonight, following a link. I have two baby girls adopted at birth. Now one and two years old.

Just wanted to say, "I GET IT!". I totally get what you are saying. Loving those words, "sanctity" and that unless you are one of those involved in the particular adoption, you just CANNOT know how special and sanctimonious the whole thing is.

So, now I feel I know you and have a connection. Thanks for these words!

Jenny Hurst said...

You Know I GET THIS!!!! Beautiful! I miss you! Can't wait to get my hands on this little miracle!!!!! And your words are so touching and I know inspiring to others. And we love this special person in your life that has brought together your family!

Anne Thompson said...

I get it. That social worker did not. It is a miraculous and beautiful and awesome thing that is the story of an adoptive family, your family, my family. Blessings to all of you. I hope you can bring Henry home soon.

Cindy at LottieBird said...

This girl you do not call birthmother is so blessed. I met my girl I do not call birthmother five years ago. She told me that she doesn't like that title because it makes her feel she is wearing a scarlet letter. She spent most of the 40 years since I had been born hiding her decision to give me up because she thought only a monster could give up a baby. She had never heard the word "unselfish" associated with her experience until she met me. How sad for her, don't you think?

I wish I could express what I am feeling as eloquently as you express yourself. There are so many thoughts in my head that I can't wrap my words around. Thank you for sharing your words. Yes, there is a book here. One I will read. And one that will make me cry in joy and melancholy.

I have often felt a calling for me in the adoption field (as an unpracticing social worker). Your post has brought this thought to my mind again. And if I were that social worker in the hospital visiting you, I hope that I would just look into your eyes and not say anything. There doesn't need to be any more, does there?

Lee Vandeman said...

Your words are simply beauty. Life. I am new to your story and I am hooked.

I am so touched by this post.

And yes, the confetti imagery. Just perfection.

Trina S. said...

what a pretty blog!

Quiltgirl said...

Thank you for sharing your story. You have a beautiful family and I honor the woman who brought Henry into this world. I admire her for being willing to bring him here and for the difficult decision she made to get him to you.
Part of me wants to hold her and squeeze her and tell her that what she did was amazing and brave and beautiful and she definitely deserves the title of Mother.
And i want to squeeze you and tell you that you are an inspiration to all of us that claim this same title and those who want desperately to claim it. Again, thank you.