The Pain in Adoption

Lately Prima has been asking questions about where babies come from, which leads to questions about her birth mother. Tonight, I was watching Downton Abbey while the kids played and when Lady Edith lay in bed crying over the picture of her daughter, Prima wanted to know why she was crying. So I told her. Good or bad, I told her. To best describe the pain of an adoptee for the incredible loss of her birth mother, here is our conversation to the best of my recollection.

P: Why is that lady crying?
Me: Because she gave her baby to another family so that they could raise and love her.
Prima looked at me with compressed lips and huge eyes. I stopped the world and focused on her.
Me: Prima, are you okay?
P: I don't want you to ever give me away. [and she began to cry]
Me: Sweetie, adoption is forever. I'm your mommy forever and ever. Do you know what forever means?
P: That you stay.
Me: Yes, forever. So even when you are fifteen and tell me that you hate me and you wish I wasn't your mother, I will still be your mother.
P: Why did that lady give away her baby?
Me: Because society ... the people who lived around her wouldn't let her.
P: Why?
Me: Well, sometimes society doesn't make much sense.
P: Why couldn't my birth mom keep me?
Me: We don't know. We only know that she left you in a place where you were sure to be found.
P: But why was I left in front of a hospital? Did people just walk by me and not see me?
Me: I'm certain that the first person who saw you, was the person who picked you up. He was a shop keeper and he had to cross the street to get you.
P: Where was my birth mother?
Me: She had to leave.
P: Why?
Me: Because in China she would get in a lot of trouble for leaving you on the street.
P: What would they do to her?
Me: I'm not sure but I think she would have to pay lots of money and she wouldn't be able to work ever again. She would live a very hard life. I think that one of the reasons she gave you up, was so that you would have a chance at a better life.
P: I wish nobody had to give up their babies and could just keep them. Why is China so mean?
Me: I know. I know it hurts, honey. I'm so sorry. Does it help to ask questions and talk about it?
P nodded her head. And the tears flowed freely.
P: What does my birth mom look like?
Me: I think she looks a lot like you.
P: Why?
Me: Because she made you.
P: How did she make me?
Me: Remember in the book we read, It's Not the Stork, it talks about the egg and the sperm. Well, that egg is part of your birth mom. You carry around a part of her with you everywhere you go because you grew inside of her.
P: Where do I carry it?
Me: I think it's in your heart. Don't you think that is a good place to carry your birth mom?
P: Yes.

She went to bed happy and fell immediately to sleep. This conversation was not as hard as I thought it would be when I envisioned it in my head eight million times. I never felt the need to cry and I was always certain that I would. I just held her, wiped away her tears and kept talking until she was done. Even Downton Abbey has to wait for this beautiful and essential conversation. I hope I'm getting it right. I don't know how to explain to laws of China to my child. I don't yet know how to tell her that boys are the preferred sex for a lot of families. I don't yet know how to tell her that sometimes the law is stupid. We must never discount the pain our children are in and may continue to be in their whole lives over this missing piece of their puzzle. May my children, and all children who search, find peace.