“When we honestly ask ourselves which person in our lives means the most
us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving much advise,
solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our
wounds with a gentle and tender hand. The friend who can be silent with
us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour
of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing, not curing, not
healing and face with us the reality of our powerlessness, that is a
friend who cares”. – Henri Nouwen
What a weekend.
I wish I could compose a fabulous post about my weekend and all that happened.
I cannot. This is quite typical. Spending time with adoption trauma victims, no matter how much I love them or how wonderful they are as individuals, is extremely draining.
Imagine talking for four days straight, at times till 3 in the morning about your adoption pain.
Imaging making very bad jokes about adoption that make you laugh so hard you nearly wet your pants.
Imagine what it is like to spend two days with two adoptees the same age as my daughter. How could I not think of her constantly?
Imagine meeting Mia and her fabulous husband.
Imagine climbing the “Rocky steps”, waiting in line at Jim’s for a cheese steak and walking in the rain.
Imagine viewing the Primal Wound inspired photography project of friend and being moved to tears and sobs. Further imagine what happens to the artist when her adoptive mother views the project a day later.
Imagine my eldest being sick with a sinus infection, my ex husband out of town on business tommorow and me starting the first day of a new job tomorrow? I could not possibly call in sick. Yet my son cannot go to school. After much soul searching and discussions with ex hubby, he was kind enough to arrange for gramma to watch our son. I still feel like a schmuck. One of those awful decisions we are often faced with as mothers..particularly single ones.
And when you are done imagining all that, imagine coming home only to find out I was locked out of my house due to a miscommunication with my sister/Realtor which caused drama with my ex husband.
Oh, and put the cherry on top of it all, I am starting a new job tomorrow.
Wiped. Freaking. Out.
Lots and lots and lots of writing prompts came up over the weekend. The most notable one in my mind is the Birthmom Parade…or perhaps I should call it the Birthmom Open House.
But you will have to wait for that. I need sleep.
P.S. Dontcha just love the quote I used on this post? One of my favorites and so very true of all my adoption friends.