Today is her 29th birthday.
I find it hard to believe yet I also struggle with the fact my second child will soon be 18. Kids do grow up so fast.
I hope she has a happy day with friends and family she loves.
It has been a few years since I did anything for her birthday (donations, dedications, gifts to her). I do not plan to do anything today.
That is a good thing. The days of spending my day in bed, planting trees, holding a snot rag and grasping for walls have passed. Today is much like Mother’s Day was a few days back. The emotional intensity over the loss of her and lack of reunion with her is gone. Resting in the place I now find a dull sadness.
Read the posts that show up beneath this one in Related Posts to see how things used to be.
My nephew would like to register with State of Connecticut Putative Father’s registry.
He cannot do so unless his ex girlfriend (expectant mother to his firsth child) agrees and signs the registry form as well.
Is there really a problem with random men stepping up to claim babies that are not theirs?
How effective are such registries in protecting father’s rights if in order for fathers to register for their rights they must get permission from the mother to exercise those rights? Particularly if the relationship is strained.
Now sourcing cost effective (cough) legal aid for my nephew.
A twitter follower suggested that Mother’s Day might be painful for me. My response, indirectly, is yes and no. I am sort of past all the intensity of it. It just leaves me sad. I have been living this for almost thirty years. My daughter will be 29 this week. Thirty years is a great deal of time to either sit and wallow in the muck and mire of adoption surrender or to move on. In many ways I have moved on from the deep sorrow. I am left with a dull sadness. As I told my twitter friend, it is what it is.
Sure I thought of my daughter on Mother’s Day. How could I not? But the days of expecting anything from her, or anyone for that matter, have long past. I think of her, I peek at her online (she posted pictures of the brunch she had with her adoptive mother), and I move on.
I moved on by spending a really wonderful day with my sons. My oldest continues to recover from his traumatic brain injury and my youngest continues to have the biggest heart of any child I know. My youngest woke me Sundaymorning by making too much noise. He was awake before the entire house (typical) and was blowing some sort of whistle. I was annoyed to be woken so early on Mom’s Day. I bellowed from the top of our stairs “S, be quiet! People are sleeping!”. His response, somewhat sheepish, “…but I made you breakfast”. My heart wrinkled.
I woke after all and found him downstairs proudly displaying the coffee, OJ, waffles (toaster, Eggo) and whip cream breakfast. The waffles were cut into small hearts and were used as eyes on the plate. Below that was a dollop of a whip cream nose and a whip cream smile. “I figured out how to make coffee! I do not know if it is any good though” he said with excitement.
The waffles were meh (not a fan of toaster waffles) and the coffee was equally meh. The juice had pulp. I ate and drank it all. My heart swelled. (I later ate a full breakfast my husband made me).
Early afternoon my son’s and I went to visit my sister and mother. My oldest son picked out flowers for both of them. My sister was shocked at the gesture. My mother, who had no idea I was coming down to visit, screeched out loud when she saw us in my sister’s back yard. Following my sister’s we went to dinner, then to the movies. My boys laughed and smiled and teased me at my lack of Marvel character knowledge. We saw Avengers – Age of Ultran. Sorry boys! Mama is a DC comic’s girl (though I was drawn to Elizabeth Olsen character Scarlett Witch).
Through it all I mused over the day, how many mother’s struggle with it where others enjoy the celebration. I fall somewhere in the middle. Consider me a moderate. While my heart swelled with love from and for my sons, it was a bit dampened by the lack of my daughter in my life.
As I said to twitter friend, it is what it is.