So, been thinking for a while about sharing our story of adoption in the hope that it might help other families and because it is such an incredible journey, it feels somehow important to document. Maybe one day it will also be important for our daughter who shall remain anonymous as this is her story too and she may not want to share it. I’ll call her Angel as we called her our ‘angel child’ for the first six months of her time with us, knowing full well that as soon as she felt safe enough, a more fully rounded two-year old would emerge. She was also referred to as an ‘angel child’ by her birth mum and dad who had lost a previous pregnancy and so were very grateful when they fell pregnant with her. Angel is 9 and will be 10 in July. Right now we are what I call ‘in the cut’. We have just come out of our longest spell of equilibrium (about 3 months) and I felt a new baseline of her self-worth had been reached. It probably has but when the wound opens up, it’s incredible how deep ...
It came to me all in a rush this morning, I feel scared of losing Angel. There, I’ve said it. It feels somehow unspeakable, unevolved. I wonder if other adopted parents feel like this, but I guess other adopted parents don’t often go seeking to meet birth mothers. But it’s not just meeting birth Mum, I feel the shifting waters anyway as she turns away from me to the phone, her friends, a darkened room with the door firmly shut. Fourteen feels like a territory all its own. I remember a mum once saying parenthood felt like a series of incremental losses, but I didn’t really get it until now. I’ve felt it in moments, but I’ve been so busy riding the waves with Angel, I didn’t notice she’s increasingly on her own board. And it’s so much loss to look at, my loss of not having a birth child, her loss of her birth family, one foster family and then another, and birth mum’s loss of Angel and the other children that were taken away. Our whole story was born of loss and I feel it all interwoven ...