Finding Safe Spaces

The past year has been a blur. I have actively tried to stay focused, be present, soak up these days of reunification with my biological family but looking back, it all seems to be a blur. It’s not like me to be wrapped up in myself but since reunification, I have forced myself to dive in deep. To process my situation. To face the reality in front of me. Pull out my fears. To be gentle with myself. All the while being mindful of many people’s feelings who are now involved in my story. At times feeling very much like a toddler myself.

What’s an even bigger blur is my daughters adoption story. The intricate details of us being chosen, the heartwarming conversation that her mama and I had minutes leading up to the birth of our daughter, the softness of her sweet voice, the shocked laughter coming from behind me after hearing the power behind our new girls lungs, her gentle touch on my lower back queuing me to follow our newborn out of the hospital room. The heavy emotions and streaming tears as I wrote her the first update. The time and detail I put into pictures to send monthly; everything had to be perfect. I miss the days that I was solely wrapped up in her adoption story, and not mine. One of my biggest fears of my reunification and my daughter’s adoption story is that they are not going to turn out the same. That her’s may not end in reunification. Although my story has been 34 years in the making, I get this arms wide open, just shy of fairy tale reunion with my entire biological families knowing very well that her story is still very open-ended. It’s continuous work to cognitively separate our journeys and I am desperately ready to revisit her story.

I recently went to the Kindred + Co. Retreat in Chicago, this one specifically for adoptive moms. When I learned about this event, I knew I wanted to be there not only to support my friend’s dream but because lately I have been feeling so guilty.

Guilty that I have been so wrapped up in my own adoption story.

Guilty that I have lost myself as an adoptive mom.

This was the perfect opportunity to dive back into the joys of being an adoptive mama. It was also time to revisit my struggles, concerns and anxieties of our ambiguous adoption. I wanted to relate to mamas who “get it” and I needed to talk freely without shame.

I needed to find a safe space.

I needed to surround myself with mama’s who are uniquely alike yet all have their own journeys; who have their own set of insecurities and successes that they are ready to divulge and share. I used this weekend to listen to myself, as an adoptive mom. I used this weekend to dissect what I am doing for Brooklyn to make her story real, to make her feel seen, heard and loved. I used this weekend to open my heart to those who are worried that their closed adoption isn’t going to be enough since there is so much pressure on open adoptions. I used with this weekend to connect with myself, with all my titles, but to be proactive with being an adoptive mama. What raising her looks like alongside my biological son. I am an adoptive mom of a non-biracial daughter in an adoption that was left open-ended before it began. These details may seem small to an outsider but are details that matter to her story and how she’ll navigate the rest of her life. I want to recognize all the complexities but not have to defend or depend on these details to dictate how it all unfolds.

I went to this retreat as Brooklyn’s mom, not as a reunited adoptee and let me tell you, it felt really dang good! I don’t mind sharing, living and growing into my role as an adoptee but I am also an adoptive mom and my daughter has her story to tell one day. I don’t want to forget that. I don’t want to lose that completely. I want to learn and to grow into my role as her mom.