Nine sleeps...

I’m prepping to meet with my birthmother, M. We’re meeting on the 14th – and just so everyone is aware – that is in 9 sleeps. I’ve been riding a wave of emotions.

I’ve written the letter, to read to M. Initially I wrote this letter to get my thoughts out of my head and heart, with no intention in sending it to her or sharing it with her. But, now, I will be reading it to her next Sunday. It’s six pages long, now. It’s completely finished (and approved by Sal), except for a little bit at the end that I need to add.

Sal and I had picked the 14th date some weeks ago, but I only summoned up the courage to call M, last week. I had not really spoken to her (on the phone) since September. I had sent her two notes to let her know that I was thinking of her, in the mail. I also did call her and leave a voicemail, too. I called her this time to see if she was willing to meet with Sal and I on the 14th.

When M answered the phone, I said, “Hi, it’s Laurel calling…” and immediately her tone changed. She said, “Oh, you’re calling me NOW? Where have you been?” She was mad. I tried to focus on my intention for the call. Getting her to come to the city and meet me with (with Sal in the room). But, she did everything to get the conversation as furthest away from my intention as possible.

I would compare the convo that we had to that of convincing a child to eat their supper…in order to get their dessert. In this situation, the supper is the real issue and feelings on the table…and the dessert is me. It was like being in the middle of the sea in a dingy…it was just out of control.

M told me that I keep leaving her. That I left her in the first place…and she said, “Please don’t leave me, Laurel. Please don’t leave me.” Then she circled around to not coming to the meeting…or maybe she could make time for it…and then she said she would. It went back and forth like this. She was extremely manipulative. I just kept steering the dingy back towards land…and focused on my intention. To get her here.

What does one say when someone begs you to stay? To not leave them, again? I said nothing. What could I say?

M is the one who made the decision to place me for adoption. I had no choice. It’s done…we can’t go back…so don’t take me back there. Yet, my emotions take me often, ‘back there’. I steered away from that subject, because neither of us would win. And, I’m not going to convince her to eat her supper…if she can’t or won’t. And unless she does eat her supper…there is no chance for us to have any kind of relationship.

I am desperately sad. I am desperately grieving. I am desperately trying not to let those tears start to pour out…because it’s possible that they will never end. There is so much pain, sadness and just…an overwhelming sense of loss, in all of this. I’m not ignoring the amazing things that adoption has provided to me…but I’m not talking about that right now.

M throws a few points at me regularly.

1. “You have no idea what it is like to be a mother and to have to give away your child.”

She’s correct. But in turn, she doesn’t know what it’s like to be a child given up, by their mother. I don’t argue that I don’t get it…that I’m not in her shoes…but, I do have the ability to try to imagine and to feel that of course it was difficult. I know that.

2. “I could have had an abortion, but I didn’t.”

Yes, M, you could have had an abortion. You could have also kept me…but you did neither. Also, I am completely pro-choice…so choosing NOT to have an abortion or choosing TO have an abortion does not score any brownie points with me. I don’t have the right to judge anyone’s choices…and when you make a choice like that…it’s a woman’s choice and she has to deal with God on that one.

3. “Oh…really???” (In response to me saying I have some adoption issues I need to sort out.)

Are you kidding me? Do you really, honestly and wholeheartedly believe that I came out of this unscathed? That I don’t hurt? That I don’t have questions? That I only bother with you when I have a few free minutes and take pity on you? M is completely selfish on this point. And, I’ve come to understand that her denial is all about lies. In order for her to keep going…she had to make up lies for the choice she made…and go into denial. Her child – me – had to have a perfect life, in order for her to have to live with her decision…and I think she believes I did.

After she begged me not to leave her for the 5th time, I gave her the date and time and asked her if she could be there…yes or no. She said yes. Of course she’ll be there…she wants her dessert. We all do. But will she be willing to eat her supper first? Will she be willing to taste it’s awfulness and darkness? Will she swallow it…knowing that the dessert will take that bad taste away…if she can bear to live with it first?

I’m going to see a friend tomorrow…just before noon…she lives about an hour outside of my city. I’m going to read her my letter. I’m unsure how this is going to happen, because I can’t even read the letter to myself. I really am afraid of the tears…and the feelings.

I’m also frustrated that I haven’t shared any of this with my family. I can’t, because they can’t support me in the way I need. In seeps jealousy and fear…and I have enough to deal with than to have to comfort my mother…when she should know that I love her to death and would never leave her. I just wish that I could trust that she won’t get short with me…or bring up all of her fears and put them on my plate. It’s a tricky situation. I just can’t go there…so here I am, depending on some friends and on a woman – Sally – that I haven’t even known for a year.

It’s just difficult. All of this.

Now I have to call M and give her the address where we're meeting. I'm going to call her - hopefully - before I leave work...so I can say I need to head into a meeting. I don't feel like paddling a dingy today.

And, on we go…