A Post I Felt Obligated to Write
All day long I have felt like I should write a post today. You see, it's my youngest child's 2nd birthday, sort of. The day we were given as the day of her birth is today, but it's likely 2 - 3 weeks from now. I thought I would be sad that I missed her 1st birthday and I'm pretty okay with it. I think it's because I know she was cared for and loved by her foster family during that time.
She is too young to understand what birthday's represent. For adopted kids, they are complicated. Birthdays mean presents and cake and friends and parties and fun things. Birthdays mean that someone far away made an intentional decision to leave them somewhere: on the sidewalk outside of a hospital, a bank, a shop, a police station, on a villager's doorstep. Birthdays mean that they don't know why their birth parents chose to abandon them. Birthdays mean coping with the idea that your Mommy and Daddy wanted you and fought for you and would die for you but that in order to be your parents, someone else had to decide not to keep you.
But this is nothing new, right? You know this as there are a million blogposts out there about the challenge of birthdays for adopted children. So why bother writing it? Because there aren't a million blogposts out there about my children and their struggles. I write these posts for my children. I want them to know as they grow up that I understand.
The day will come when Prima may be get very sad around her birthday. Sad because she simply doesn't understand why her birth mother left her on a sidewalk in a big city on a cold night when she was a newborn infant. And we don't know. That is the pain of it. We don't know. Prima already cries at least once a week over the idea of my death, and I'm not dying.
The day may come when Segunda has a hot temper around her birthday. She may be angry and have no idea why she is angry. She won't know that she is angry at her birth parents for leaving her on the doorstep of a villager in a tiny village. She won't know that she is angry because one of them gave her a genetic disease that might make her life pretty miserable as an adult. It won't matter to her that we are trying to do everything we can to make sure that she lives a full and fruitful life and as pain-free as possible. It won't matter because it will be her birthday and birthdays mean abandonment by the very person who should cherish you the most.
My girls will know, and do know, that they are my heart on the outside of my body. Everyday they walk around with my heart in their hands. When Prima struggles to make my friends, my heart hurts. When Segunda is cranky because her fingers hurt, my heart hurts. As they grow and experience life and the struggles that go with it, particularly the struggles of an adopted child in a transracial family, my heart will hurt so badly my chest will feel like it's going to explode. The first time Prima comes home and tells me that someone made fun of her because she is Asian or adopted I will want to go to school the next day and personally throttle the child and their parents next, but I won't do that. Instead, I will try to reach down into the well of limited wisdom that I have and help guide her through it. When that happens to Segunda, I'm pretty sure she will just punch them in the face and I won't be sorry when she does. But once again, I'll have to find some wisdom to help guide her through handling her temper a little bit better.
So, happy birthday to my beautiful Segunda. My life is complete with you in it. I can barely remember life without you in it and that was less than four months ago. You are pure joy to everyone who meets you. May I be the mother you need when you need it - always.
She is too young to understand what birthday's represent. For adopted kids, they are complicated. Birthdays mean presents and cake and friends and parties and fun things. Birthdays mean that someone far away made an intentional decision to leave them somewhere: on the sidewalk outside of a hospital, a bank, a shop, a police station, on a villager's doorstep. Birthdays mean that they don't know why their birth parents chose to abandon them. Birthdays mean coping with the idea that your Mommy and Daddy wanted you and fought for you and would die for you but that in order to be your parents, someone else had to decide not to keep you.
But this is nothing new, right? You know this as there are a million blogposts out there about the challenge of birthdays for adopted children. So why bother writing it? Because there aren't a million blogposts out there about my children and their struggles. I write these posts for my children. I want them to know as they grow up that I understand.
The day will come when Prima may be get very sad around her birthday. Sad because she simply doesn't understand why her birth mother left her on a sidewalk in a big city on a cold night when she was a newborn infant. And we don't know. That is the pain of it. We don't know. Prima already cries at least once a week over the idea of my death, and I'm not dying.
The day may come when Segunda has a hot temper around her birthday. She may be angry and have no idea why she is angry. She won't know that she is angry at her birth parents for leaving her on the doorstep of a villager in a tiny village. She won't know that she is angry because one of them gave her a genetic disease that might make her life pretty miserable as an adult. It won't matter to her that we are trying to do everything we can to make sure that she lives a full and fruitful life and as pain-free as possible. It won't matter because it will be her birthday and birthdays mean abandonment by the very person who should cherish you the most.
My girls will know, and do know, that they are my heart on the outside of my body. Everyday they walk around with my heart in their hands. When Prima struggles to make my friends, my heart hurts. When Segunda is cranky because her fingers hurt, my heart hurts. As they grow and experience life and the struggles that go with it, particularly the struggles of an adopted child in a transracial family, my heart will hurt so badly my chest will feel like it's going to explode. The first time Prima comes home and tells me that someone made fun of her because she is Asian or adopted I will want to go to school the next day and personally throttle the child and their parents next, but I won't do that. Instead, I will try to reach down into the well of limited wisdom that I have and help guide her through it. When that happens to Segunda, I'm pretty sure she will just punch them in the face and I won't be sorry when she does. But once again, I'll have to find some wisdom to help guide her through handling her temper a little bit better.
So, happy birthday to my beautiful Segunda. My life is complete with you in it. I can barely remember life without you in it and that was less than four months ago. You are pure joy to everyone who meets you. May I be the mother you need when you need it - always.
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