The Other Mother

I had a baby boy when I was very young, 17. He was eventually adopted, as I didn’t know what I was doing and had no right testing out on him. He was beautiful. And I have missed him everyday that he has been gone. His adoptive parents and I had created a spoken agreement, of what each of us wanted and needed in order to proceed with the adoption. For a while all things were heeded, but eventually they tapered and then there would be years in between phone calls and letters.

Last year I called. I broke down and called because I couldn’t handle the not knowing any longer. He was in trouble, a lot of trouble. I suppose some would say that might be perceived as a mother’s intuition. Who knows? He was having a lot of behavioral issues, which seemed to coincide with the birth of his adoptive parents’ twin boys; he was 10 at the time. In the years to follow he would have some serious issues in school and at home. I was encouraged by the care in his adoptive mothers voice and candor that they were working on it and were sure that things would get better.

Almost another year went by.

I called.

He was in more trouble, big trouble. The adoptive parents no longer have custody of this boy. He is now “property” of the state in which they live. She provided me with vague details and said that they were trying to get him back – but in the event that they did he would not be able to live in their home. He is currently living in a boy’s home – not a juvenile detention center or anything so severe. But he has no home. He lives with other boys tossed to the side, discarded. Does this make him think that he is without value? His birth mother tossed him aside, and now the people that chose to be his parents, those that chose him over all others – have done the same.

Is he destroyed?

Is he lost?

Is he broken?

Have I created this?

I am destroyed, lost and broken for him.

peanut butter...

I have many books that have been recovered from my very own child hood. These were saved by my mother, after having been shared with a set of cousins and my younger half-sister. I now have these wonderful relics of my youth to share with my son. One of my favorites from the bunch is called A House is A House For Me. It tells of all the great things that can be houses or live in a house. My son and I have pored over this book many, many, many times. So much so that at this point I could recite the entire book to anyone who asked without a second thought. Last night he picked this book for bedtime reading – but he wanted to read it to me, which is a special little treat I get every now and then. Some words come out as they were intended by the author and others sound as if they are in some very complex foreign language I have never been formally introduced to.
After he “read” the book to me he wanted to go through and find out what all the pictures were of. The book has wonderful watercolor images and is jut plain pretty and fun to look at. We came upon some butterflies which he immediately decided were bugs. I chose to gently correct him and let him know that these were actually butterflies. There were about 5 on the two corresponding pages. He repeated the word and seemed comfortable accepting it and we temporarily moved on to name other objects on other pages. Eventually we arrived on the same page with the colorful pretties. He looked at me and said:


Momma, I remember! Pretty peanut butterflies!


I love him like no other.

Reclaiming my mind...kinda

So it’s been a ridiculously long time since I have been here, done this. In the time that I have been gone (not that anyone was keeping track), I have gotten married, celebrated my son’s 2nd birthday, been on a fabulous honeymoon cruise, had a ginormous party to celebrate said wedding and oh, yeah, gotten a wonderful new job (that actually happened prior to all the other things I mentioned).

My son has been growing like a weed and chatting off the ear of anyone in earshot. He has completely mastered the ABC song and is turning into quite the entertainer. He is my absolute joy. All things good and bad in this life of mine are as a result of that one little tiny person.

There are so many more things to share – but I need to reign in all this enthusiasm and organize my thoughts a bit better…but I have returned and am anxious to spew forth all that lives in my tiny little mind!!