Oh, birth mom. I think of you. And not just because it’s National Adoption Awareness Month. Most days, I’m awakened by a tug of my comforter as at least one of the boys climbs atop the fluffy covers. That is usually accompanied by a demand for family cuddles or a request for Octonauts on Netflix. If it’s a Saturday, there’s a very emphatic explanation of why it’s a good day to go to Safari Sams. On weekdays there’s the morning bustle to get us all dressed, fed, and out the door to preschool and work. So, there are days where you don’t cross my mind at all because I have so little brain power – I had no idea “mom brain” was a real thing. (Nope, not just for preggers or new moms, but us adoptive mamas, too.)
Even on the hardest days, I cannot imagine my life without these two stinkers. They light up my heart and destroy my living room. It’s bittersweet to think of you in these few and far between quiet moments. I wonder how you do it; living without them.
I see it in your eyes during your visits. I see it in the text messages. I see it in your frustration at the boundaries I am trying to set. I have this amazing family that is complete because of two pieces of yourself you gave away. I stare into the face of loss and heartbreak and know your pain was my gain. It is a tough concept to grasp. You will always be spoken of positively in our home. We are thankful for you. One thing is certain: we are on the same team; Team Levi & Wyatt.
You did it for them. I am grateful every day. You carried them to term. You’re the birth mom. You nursed them. You had them for two years and then you passed the mantle onto me. Three years, five shoe sizes, potty training, cribs and toddler beds and now big boy bunk beds . . . but so much more than these milestones. They’re not babies any more. They’re real people with distinct personalities. They’re hilarious. Levi is funny “ha ha” and Wyatt is funny “uh-oh.” You don’t know that Levi loves chocolate and reading his Bible, or that Wyatt has six-pack abs and is freakishly strong for a five-year-old. I have now had them longer than you did. So much of life has happened in that time, but for you time has stood still. I know the earth stopped turning for you the day you placed them in my arms. It’s hard to explain to you that life for us is constantly moving. It’s hard for me to explain that you are a “birth mom” and I am “THE mom.” That’s not just my insecurity speaking, but I want you to accept that that is my role. This is who I am.
I’m tasked with having to explain who you are since you are in our lives. I’m thankful for counselors with wisdom beyond my own to help my husband and I navigate these waters. We are approaching the day where they know they came from you. That “someday we’ll explain all of this” scenario is upon us. They are curious and ask lots of questions, which I am not sure any of us are ready for. Will we ever be? Yet, I have confidence we will find our way – with continued love and respect.
We will always be Team Levi and Wyatt.