Letter to me from Birth Mum

It started off as a beautiful day. It was warm and sunny so I planned a walk to the beach while the boys were in school. I was all dressed and ready when the postman came. An envelope 'Private and Confidential' from our LA. I didn't expect anything from them this week so as one would, I freaked out! There was another envelop inside; it was opened. A picture fell out. I picked it up from the floor. IT WAS HER! With Snoops' smile and Goofs' eyes! My heart sank...

We were assured she will not write. Even when we met her she told us 'she has moved on'. Recently when we needed her for something she was utterly rude to the SW and told her 'I have nothing to do with the children anymore so leave me alone'. And yet, I am holding a neatly written letter from her addressed to me.

I don't want to read it! I don't want to know anything about her life! I don't care what she's up to next! The only thing I want to know is why did she write to me, but for that I have to read her letter.

She is very polite and courteous. She thanked me for my lovely letter to her that was jam-packed with information about the children; their likes, hobbies, achievements in school and sports. She is only responding to my letter in a friendly tone. It stirs up so many puddles in me.

1. We are NOT friends!
This well known quote in adoption circles from Jody Landers summarises my feelings well. The only reason she and I even know each other is because she gave them birth and now they call me MUM.

From the letter you would think we are, indeed, friends. She is commenting on my comments, adding her own experiences, she is asking relevant questions and no doubt she is expecting me to answer them in my next letter. She is communicating with me better than some of my friends! What the heck is going on here???

2. I don't WANT to become friends with her!
Even though we know she herself had a very difficult childhood, which contributed greatly to her not being able to care for the children I frankly don't want to think of her as the victim. It is easier to see her as the abuser who hurt the children repeatedly and therefore lost the right to have them in her house and in her life! We have agreed to do letter box contact twice a year, but I was hoping for it to be a one way communication...

3. Nature vs nurture.
I shared with her about the newfound interest Snoops has for science, space and engineering. I'd like to take credit for that as until he moved in with us he had showed no signs of even remotely being interested in that, but in our house he was exposed to books on space and planets, sci-fi geeky stuff, funny science experiments...etc. But now she tells me 'it is fascinating how much he takes after me, I wanted to become an astronaut and studied science and engineering and space...' Baaaaah! When the initial anger subsided I had to conclude it is for the best that I know these things about her. Not just because I want to be in a position to answer Snoops' questions when the dreaded conversation comes, but also for his sake to know if he has any special gifting in those areas. In moments like this I am painfully made aware that he is not my biological son! And it has two obvious implications: he does NOT take after me and that he does carry HER DNA in which lots of secrets are encoded.

I know it is us who provide him with opportunities to feed his interests. It's highly unlikely she could have ever taken him to science shows, pay for his coding club, take the time to explain gravitational force to him a millionth time or just listen to his non stop chatter about space and planets. That was all us! But the initial input came from her...

4. Should I tell the boys about this letter?
They have the right to know, simple is that. But the SW also agrees it is not the time to do it! But when is it the right time? The longer we wait the heavier the secret gets and the potential of a future explosion grows exponentially! X_t = X₀ (1+r)^t  (in case you were wondering. See what I just did there?) From the way the boys behave, if our first recent Mother's Day is any indication, they are safely, securely and happily attached to us. They do not think about BM, they definitely do not miss her or have any positive memories of her, just the opposite. They do not need their pond stirred at this time. We haven't told them we met her or the fact that we wrote a letter to her. We even agreed with SW not to include that photo of her and us together in the children's Life Story Books. So, for now, we wait with this information. If it comes up in a conversation (as in if the boys ask me a direct question) I might include random snippets about her, but then I am sure their next question will be 'how do you know that, mum?'

For now her letter is tucked away in a locked cabinet and I will not look at it again until it's time to write my second letter to her, in which I will attempt a friendly (???) tone and respond to her questions so our pen-pal relationship can grow until such time my sons are ready to here about it.

Stuck in the hard place between Matching Panel and Intros

Matching Panel took place last week. I am still shaking. But the reason is different now.

We were told the usuals: 'we wouldn't take you to panel if we weren't confident it will be OK'; 'this is now just paperwork'; 'we just need to cross every t-s' and such. It was the same when birth mum was contesting: rationally you know it is going to be OK, nevertheless you are super nervous and you worry yourself sick. I couldn't sleep or when I did I had nightmares (mostly about rejection or approval but then epic fails and rejection from the boys during intros).

Panel was debating our case for about an hour before we were called in. By then I could hardly walk. We went in, I looked at the Chair and before I sat down I heard myself asking her directly. She was all smiles, said the magical YES and asked me again to sit down. She was supposed to give us the reasons for the recommendation, but she only said that panel 'had a good feel about us'. She admitted this wasn't very professional and I do wonder how these were recorded in the panel minutes...

Apparently they weren't even debating us, rather the boys' past and the reasons why their first adoption failed. They asked if we felt we were fully informed about everything. Well... 'Can I please know exactly why their previous adoption broke down for starters???' I did ask a few more questions and of course we also discussed the post adoption support package, which is undoubtedly robust, but only time can tell how well it will work for us, and more importantly, if it will be enough!

We handed over the This is Your New Mum and Dad DVD we filmed a few days before. (We had asked a friend to film us as we walk around the street and the house before we sit in the sofa and talk directly to the camera. The entire filming was all a good laugh until I had to utter the words to the camera 'Hello boys, I am your new Mummy'. And then my entire composure fell apart... The gravity of the situation has hit me there and then!)

The SW will meet the boys to show it to them 'tomorrow'.

So we wait. Tomorrow is almost here. But then we get an email from the SW saying 'after careful deliberations we think we should NOT rush this whole thing!' Until now they kept on saying 'since the boys are older once they hear the news things will go fast because, frankly, why wait?' It made perfect sense to us back then.

But suddenly the goalpost started moving...
We started the entire process in November 2014 and we have waited patiently, we complied with all their requests and we relied completely on their words and expertise. I appreciate that this is a long process, but when you are so close to the finish line even a silly little thing like postponing a meeting for a few days makes a huge difference and upsets the delicate balance that is in our heart!

Luckily it's only a few days; first they will share the news with the boys, then the SW will return a day after to see how the boys are taking the news and if it's all OK she will share the DVD with them. And then we can start thinking about having a planning meeting, which will hopefully push us out of this hard place of waiting...

Schrödinger's cat in my tummy

This blog post was sitting in my drafts folder since January and now it seems like a good time to post it so chronological order is more or less accurate:

As approved adopters we joined the waiting game as soon as the ink dried on the Panel papers last May. We signed up to Children Who Wait, Be My Parent, National Adoption Register and Adoptionlink to maximise our chances. Now, several months and 'almost matches' later it seems we finally are not only the front runners, but (it seems) the only runners for 2 particular children. We were told the good news in January. In February we met the current Foster Carer; we could have had a lovely chat, but how do you relax when all your words are watched by several Social Workers? The SWs in the know informed us that the children would be moving in about 5 months.

So we wait.

When I share this news the natural response I get is 'oh, it must be so hard to wait that long!' and I am thinking 'boy, you couldn't be further away from the truth'! You see, we didn't choose adoption as the third option. We could have children born to us, but we decided to adopt instead as the FIRST OPTION!

Not for us, for the children. Not to meet our need, but to meet their need.

And we want to do a good job with that! Therefore, five months almost feels too short for us to be prepared and get ready. Our house needs to be finished and remodelled to accommodate them. As for our non existent parenting skills, we need to attend some specialised training to better understand and deal with their behaviour. I am a perfectionist who wants to get it right the first time... with everything! Hubby knows it's impossible; I am determined to prove him wrong. That means reading one more book, joining one more online support group, signing up for one more training session...

Perhaps I wouldn't be this patient if things were different. To explain the title: Schrödinger's cat is locked in a box and until you open the box you don't know if the cat is alive or not.

That is the same with us now; we see the light at the end of the tunnel, but we quite enjoy the darkness around us at the moment and not too keen to dash towards the light just yet. Is it because we could have children if we wanted to? Perhaps. Could we have children at all? Well, we will never know.

So we wait. And Schrödinger's cat lives happily ever after in my tummy...