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 ...
The letter was enough. Birth mum wants a call.
A part of me wonders, should I have just let things lie? It was the perfect get out; that birth mum wasn’t sure about meeting again. But I picture saying that to Angel and my heart breaks for her and I know I did the right thing.
A call is scheduled. She had been worried about the self-harm. She said both she and her oldest daughter had self-harmed. I reassure her that we are getting the help Angel needs. That it is mild, that there is no hiding it or shame and that we feel we can manage it.
She talks about being worried about her daughters being upset if we don’t see them again soon. We say, we are happy to put another date in the diary now, so we have two, one over the summer and another in November.
She says she struggled after the meeting and felt rejected by me. She cries a little. I do too. It’s hard to bear witness to someone's pain. I say I understand and felt it was unfair that there isn’t support for birth parents in the same way there is for adopted children and parents (although that is a fight too!). That my therapy made the difference for me, that it was a lot for all of us.
I was suprised she said it out loud, even though I knew this is what had happened; that this is what caused her wobble. I almost ask, ‘What is your expectation of me going forward?’, but then think better of it. The social worker had said she was going to call her every week and see if she could get her some therapeutic support too. That was their job, not mine. I am clear on this, however much my heart goes out to her.
I realise now the mistake was in giving her my number so soon. We would have got there eventually, because the visits won’t always be facilitated, but perhaps it signalled a level of closeness I wasn't yet ready for, even though I didn't realise it at the time. I was still riding the euphoria of what we had all experienced and the joy of having been able to facilitate such an important connection for Angel.
But maybe it’s better now to establish that we can’t be bosom buddies, that it is too much for me to support her and too complicated, layered as it is, with so many complex feelings.
She asked if she could send Angel a video message on her birthday, from her and her daughters. I said yes, but that I may not play it until after. It might be too much on the actual day. ‘Of course, of course.’ She understands immediately.
It is just a voice note she sends in the end. I tell Angel about the message in a quiet moment a few days after her birthday, as she has been busy. She isn’t ready to hear it straight away. I respect the way she processes things, giving the information time to seep in. I broach it again later in the day and she is ready.
Happy Birthday Angel, hope you have a good day, from Tiana. Hi Angel, Happy Birthday and hope you have a great day, love you, from Tammy. Hi Angel, hope you have a lovely Birthday, we’re just out in sunny Spain thinking of you. Love you.
This is the first time we’ve heard her sister's voices. They have northern accents. Angel beams. Would like me to send it to her so she can listen again if she wants to?
‘Yes.’
I tell her there is a meeting this summer and she beams some more. I say I'll tell her the day before the day before, as I did last time.
Tomorrow is the ‘day before the day before’.
I hope we are not moving too fast.
I am still learning to let my beautiful, only daughter have two mums.
Now there are two sisters.
Love keeps asking me to make more room.
Another brilliant insightful and painful piece of writing. You are doing so well. X
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