The fact that nothing whatsoever legally binds my family to N., the little ones’ birth mother, came as a complete surprise to my mom, who for five years had labored under the impression that we were forced to do so under threat of legal action. I could have sworn she knew this right from the start, just as I could have sworn that she was aware that N. is once again with child.
“You’re saying you don’t have to have visits with her,” my mother asked last week as we discussed last-minute details about her granddaughter’s birthday party. That’s correct, I answered. “But you continue to meet with her, even though she’s pregnant again?” Yes, I told her. Even though N. is pregnant for the fourth time in five years, we still see her.
Thus began a rapid but intense conversation wherein she questioned the judgment of allowing this young woman contact with my family. “Aren’t you afraid she’s going to be a bad influence on them?” she wanted to know. “They’re going to see the things she’s done and think it’s okay to do the same.”
Common sense said that I should let my mother rant on without commenting until she wore herself out, but as argument feels like more of a connection than anything else we’ve managed to manufacture, I defended my decision. “Obviously I don’t agree with all her choices,” I said, “but I think it’s better for the kids to know their mother than to have to guess what she’s like.” Back and forth we went; she fretted about the children experimenting too early with sex and the fact that N. has more access to my home than she herself has been given. “Mom,” I finally said, “I’m just trying to do what’s best for the kids. Why don’t you give the post-adoption counselor a call? She’s surely dealt with situations like these before.”
She’d met the counselor before in the course of both adoptions, but for reasons known only to herself she refused to discuss with her these concerns. And then she was done. “I can’t keep talking to you about this,” she said. “I’m getting too upset.” And with no more than a terse promise to arrive by 9 the next day and a chilly goodbye she was off the phone.
It is a blessing, I suppose, that I never have to guess if my mother is angry with me. “I love you,” she says, only when she’s not.
Later that night, still exhausted and disheartened by the conversation, I prepared a bed for N. who for the first time was sleeping over at my house in preparation for the next day’s big party. We hugged in the living room. “Love you honey,” I said, kissing her on the top of her head.
She held on longer than I did. “Love you too,” she said. I went upstairs, peeking in almost unconsciously on the kids as I’ve done every night since they were born (or otherwise acquired). Any other night I would have noticed nothing much beyond the fact that they were still breathing.
“N., come up here,” I whispered over the banister. “You have to see this.” And we stood in the hallway watching our children sleep, the boy’s foot hanging off the side of the bed, the girl’s hand still clutching the crown of her Halloween costume.
Am I legally bound in this relationship? No. But I can’t imagine not sharing these children with the woman who carried them.
From a birth parent to an adoptive parent, bless you. i don’t wish i had that much contact with my birth child, but it was so wonderful knowing they would have allowed it if i had, and it’s even more wonderful knowing they aren’t the only ones.
I think that your situation is perfect for you, N., and the children. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it! would be my two cents.
And even more importantly (perhaps) is your potential to give N an idea of what her future children could have. An example of a happy, healthy and stable home with a strong parent figure.
(What I am curious to know is, where are the medical professionals at the births of her children to offer better birth control, or even options for sterilization to this woman!? Surely after 4 pregnancies in quick succession she is tired of it all? Of course I’m sure there are extenuating circumstances and the decision is hers to make, but I can’t help but feel for her. That much pregnant must be exhausting.)
Yes, she’s had chance after chance at getting/using effective and safe birth control. She’s decided not to use it in most instances. She doesn’t believe in abortion. Make of this what you will.
I wish we had this kind of contact with our son’s mother–we’d love any kind of contact. Maybe someday it will be right for her. I hope so.
AAG, you’re awesome.
Your mother sounds almost exactly like mine in her obsessive need to let me know she is upset with me/something I’ve done/do/will do/am thinking about. Exhausting but makes me stronger!
Tell your mom (if you care to discuss this with her further) that my mom never tried to hide the fact that she “had to” marry my father because she was pregnant with my older sister. Consequently I (and I suspect my sister and younger brother, though I’ve never asked them) was always *very* careful about accidental pregnancy. How can we expect kids to learn from our (and others) mistakes if we hide those mistakes from them?
Wow…reading this post brought tears to my eyes. It came at a moment when I’ve been wrestling with the concept of loving with an open, loving heart, in my case in regards to poly relationship, but you epitomize the concept so incredibly beautifully here. I’m in awe. Truly. Thank you for sharing this.
Jade
Everything else aside, the baby she’s carrying now will be, at the least, the half-sibling of your little ones. Doesn’t your mom think they don’t deserve to know their own sibling? That couldn’t happen if you weren’t amicable with N.
May your home grow in happiness, and may N’s latest pregnancy be healthy and without complication.