Telephone.

We all played a game of "telephone" at our last birth family visit, passing the phrase between mothers and brothers and fathers. You can't really get any closer to anyone than whispering right in their ear; smelling them, breathing on them, feeling their breath on your neck when they whisper to you. We were all listening SO intently, trying SO hard to get the phrase right. It occurred to me that that's open adoption; listening so intently, and trying so hard to get it right. Sometimes, in the game of telephone, when a phrase is finally said out loud it's totally wrong, but somehow, it's better than the original. I often get things wrong in our open adoption, but sometimes it leads to better things; a better understanding of our openness and our family.

I thought getting open adoption right meant I had to be a part of it. I thought it meant that I always had to be trying really hard to make it all work. I'm rethinking that.

My son and his birth mom connected like they had always been together. It was easy and warm. I watched my boy, and I tried to be part of it, part of them. I was looking for attention, hoping to be included. I felt myself trying to insert myself into their twosome.

Then, I stopped. I sat there. I allowed it to happen.

I took myself out of the conversation, out of the connection. I allowed myself to feel left out, feel almost left behind. 

But then, I looked at my son and I watched the beauty of what I was witnessing. The similarities between them, his eyes lighting up, trying to take care of her, wanting to make her proud. 

And I relaxed and I stopped trying so hard. I realized I was seeing MORE of my child, and I realized, REALLY realized, that this isn’t a competition. 

I can’t compete. and I don’t have to. 

My child deserves both. 

Imagine. Imagine there was another. Another that other made your child light up. Another that made you see something magical in your child that you never ever saw before. A spark. Would you allow it? Even if it meant you have to step back? I hope so. 

We initiate the openness with wide open vulnerable confused hearts.

I often hear, “My child has never asked about his birth family". Does that mean they don’t deserve to know? Does that mean they don’t want to know? 

I don’t know the answers to these questions, and I don’t claim to know if our way is the right way…but what I do know is that I have never heard an adult adoptee say, “my adoption was TOO open”. Or, “I wish my parents didn’t talk about my birth family”. So that, coupled with that spark I see in my child, that makes me keep going, keep stretching, even if, sure, it can make me feel shaky, and less than. Sometimes I DO wish there was only me. Of course I do. There are adoptive moms far more gracious and giving than me. I’m working on it, but I would be lying if I said it’s always easy for me.  

This isn’t what I imagined motherhood would be, what everyone said it would be. What it is “supposed” to be. This isn't what most people want motherhood to be.

My version, this version, is wildly different and takes the identity of “mother” and strengthens it.

E and I often remind ourselves to “parent the children we have”. It’s harder than it sounds. And I think most parents parent in a “I’m supposed to do it this way” way, right? We think we need to do what the books say, or what our parents did, or what our friends are doing. But, when we parent the children we have; it includes really seeing them, embracing them and their full, big, broken, beautiful, confusing, twisty turny stories. And when we do that, things just...work, and everyone thrives.

I look at the 4 of us, our little family, and I feel SO proud. SO proud of us.

We drove home in the middle of the night after saying goodbye to my child’s birth family. My son and I stayed up for the whole drive. I sat squished in the backseat between both my boys, one sleeping soundly on my shoulder and the asking me to sing “his song” (the first song I sang when I met him) over and over. He said he hoped we never got off “the big roads because he wanted to keep talking and being cozy” with me.

If he can have a heart that easily includes both of us, a love that is pure and all encompassing for his first mother and for me, at only 5 years old, than you better believe I can too. 

I love you Desi. Thank you for guiding us all in your open adoption.