Surrender

In 1990, open adoption was a relatively new concept. It was just becoming another option in the adoption process, considered quite progressive at the time. When I placed my daughter, I had agreed on letters and pictures for the first two years. After nine months had passed, the adoptive parents contacted the agency expressing an interest in seeing me. I was hesitant, only because I knew it would be difficult, but I also knew I really wanted to see my baby girl. My heart won the battle and we met the following week. Seeing her destroyed me and rescued me at the same time. Her nine month old eyes already knew me when I held her in my arms. She was mine and we both knew it. Her parents and I became the poster family for Open Adoption. We spoke around the country at adoption panels and agencies to promote the concept. It became cathartic for me. I'm a terrible public speaker. The only thing I remember about those engagements was trying not to cry.

Fast forward 25 years later, after the Disney vacations together, after she was the flower girl in my wedding (and my best friends wedding), after she was there to meet her newborn half sister and brother, after I sat through her graduation, after she told me I was going to be a grandmother... we've never missed those moments in each others lives. It hasn't always been easy. There has been jealousy, natural jealousy, on both sides. Me, watching another family raise my child. Her, watching me be a mother to her siblings. Heartbreaking. But, she loves her family. She's well adjusted (more than most adoptees I know). She's happy.

She's having a baby in May. A girl. She and her husband are going to be wonderful parents. However, it's another break in the natural flow. This pregnancy has resurfaced the loss for me. I won't be 'grandma' in the traditional sense, and it makes me unbelievably sad. I didn't see this coming. I wasn't even thrilled when she told me she was pregnant. I was all offended, like, 'How can she be doing this to me?!'. I got over it, obviously. Now, I swear I love that baby like it's my own, you'd think I was the one pregnant.

This is adoption. These are the visible cracks; the wounds that spill out all over the place, when all you're trying to do is make it as normal as possible. But, you can't. It's irretrievably broken.