I took the kids sledding last week, and we had a great time until I got plowed down by a teenager on an out-of-control snow tube. I mean plowed down. Tossed like a rag doll-lost a boot in mid air- struck my head on landing. I got CLOCKED!
As I lay on the snow I thought, "I hit my head. Hard. I can't get up."
Then I became aware of crying and my daughter's voice. "Get up, Mommy. Mommy, get up! Get up!!" But I couldn't get up. It was more than a full minute before I could even speak to let her know I heard her, and the impact that had on her will haunt me for a very long time.
At first terrified, she became angry - really angry - when I finally got up. She broke down sobbing, "I thought you were killed! I thought I was going to be without a mother forever! How could I grow up without a mother? You can't leave me like that!"
And in that moment, I didn't care about anyone's "expert" opinion. Adoption is a loss. It is. I know she was talking about me, but I also know that the loss of her first mother waits somewhere inside her. And even if she isn't aware of that loss yet, I am. And the thought of her losing two mothers brings me to my knees.
Click here to purchase Sally's adoption book, What I Want My Adopted Child to Know: An Adoptive Parent's Perspective.
Sally Bacchetta
The Adoptive Parent
My Google Profile+
Monday, January 23, 2012
Wednesday, January 4, 2012
Good Old What's His Name
Our family speaks frankly about adoption. So much so that our kids assume adoption is part of everyone's birth story, which is either funny or tragic, depending on your own experiences.
I'm pained to realize that in all of our formal discussions and impromptu conversations and off-hand mentions of adoption, we've barely talked about their birth fathers. We just don't know much about them.
I know they made decisions that will reverberate in my life as long as it lasts.
I know their first names.
I know what one of them looks like. I know he was adopted and wanted to be present at the birth.
I know the year the other one graduated from high school. I know he was a straight A student and was no longer in a relationship with M when the baby was born.
That's it.
What I know about them amounts to a pile of nothing.
I can't give my children anything of substance about the men they came from.
It's an awful feeling.
Sally Bacchetta
The Adoptive Parent
My Google Profile+
I'm pained to realize that in all of our formal discussions and impromptu conversations and off-hand mentions of adoption, we've barely talked about their birth fathers. We just don't know much about them.
I know they made decisions that will reverberate in my life as long as it lasts.
I know their first names.
I know what one of them looks like. I know he was adopted and wanted to be present at the birth.
I know the year the other one graduated from high school. I know he was a straight A student and was no longer in a relationship with M when the baby was born.
That's it.
What I know about them amounts to a pile of nothing.
I can't give my children anything of substance about the men they came from.
It's an awful feeling.
Sally Bacchetta
The Adoptive Parent
My Google Profile+
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)