Here it is again

It starts as a low vibration in the back of my mind, like a sound that you can feel before you hear.

By New Year's there is a low dread settling into the pit of my stomach, but it's easily ignorable.

Each day it spreads.

And then today, January 5th, it comes into the light-tomorrow is E.'s birthday.

Yes, it's that time of year again.

On her first birthday, to tell you the truth, I didn't think too much. I was still cloaked in The Wonderful Thing I Did.

On her second birthday, that paradigm was showing some serious cracks. I was starting to wonder if what I did was so wonderful. I stopped singing the praises of adoption to people looking to adopt and people in crisis pregnancies. I began to seek support for myself, and finding nothing in real life, I turned to an online community. I began to shut myself off from the world.

I barely remember her third birthday. I was very very drunk. And high.

Her fourth birthday. I had been nearly suicidal for about a month, ever since the last meeting we had with her. It was a good meeting and I was fine, really fine, happy even, until it was time to leave, and something just broke inside of me. I had always been sad about what happened, but this was so deep, beyond conscious thought. My body, my very physicality, was crying, screaming, shaking, grieving. As soon as the car begin to move and E. was safely out of sight, I opened my mouth to say that the meeting had gone well, and nothing came out. Tears ran copiously and was shaking all over. I could not say a word. I could not make a sound. I could only curl up and hold on as my body expressed its raging pain and grief. It was the first time I really thought as the loss and going beyond an emotional loss; it was a physical loss too, like the loss of a limb, that the body never forgets.

I called her on her birthday, and her father answered the phone. I said who I was and he said "Who?".

I was delirious with love for my three month old Naomi on her 5th birthday. January 6th came and went with no tears that year, just a little apprehension and anxiety about coming out of the closet to my new mommy friends. Which I never really did, by the way.

Last year, her 6th birthday, I meant to knit her a hat. It turned into a disaster and it became a broken promise- I told her when I talked to her on her birthday that I'd was knitting her something, and I never sent it. Ugh. I feel so bad about that.

This year I knit her a scarf, and I finished it last night. It's long and skinny, black with thin violet stripes. Unfortunatly, it's a little itchy. I never did find that kntting kit I wanted to get her. I must have imagined it. She'll probably like it more next year, anyway.

These entries about E. always turn so morose. I am so focused on the past that I can't see the little girl growing before my eyes. She is seven this year. Seven! The age of reason, according to the Catholics. An age of endless questions. I, for one, am looking forward to answering any quesions she asks me. I just wonder if she'll ever get the chance. And I wonder if I'll get in trouble for saying things that might upset C. I have no way of knowing how honest her parents have been with her. I can't tailor my responses to their worldview if I have no idea what it is, so I will say whatever I think is the truth, and deal with whatever consequenses arise. Who else can I be but myself?

It will be years before I can tell her the *whole* story. It will be a long time before I confide in her my muck-filled journey afterward. In the meantime, I will be careful to restrict my answers to the question, no tangents, no backstory, just succinct simplicity.

Comments

[Jody]

Both Hearthsong and Magic Cabin have knitting kits, some of them for younger children. Follow the menus under crafts or do a search under "knit." Maybe you could visit their websites, do a coupon search for savings, and buy something now, so there's no rush? December/January meetings and birthdays must be especially hectic, never mind all the other stuff at stake.

[Lisa]

I just wanted to tell you that your story breaks my heart into a million pieces. I can not even begin to fathom the pain you feel inside from the loss of your daughter. I dont know If I am right and I havent seen it said here in your blog or maybe I just missed it but from what I read is that you truly regret placing her with another family. I just cant imagine what you are feeling. I just wanted to tell you from the bottom of my heart that I am truly sorry. I hope one day and it might not be til she is a grown woman that you can come to have a relationship with you and she will see you for the awesome woman you are and that you did this for her. Even though it would cause you endless pain you did it for her. That is love. Dont let anyone tell you different.

[Lilian]

Well... since the two other commenters commented long after the post, I will too :)
I am slowly working my way through, reading all of your posts, because I learn so much from your blog, as I've said before, and if not (here in the comments) you can check #24 of my "100 things list" (Aug 10/05):
"24. I learned from Kateri (Wet Feet) a bit (just the tip of the iceberg, I’m sure) of what being a birth-mother feels like."

Anyway, I agree with Lisa, I feel for you everytime I read. How lovely of Jody to share how you can buy a knitting kit. I hope you're able to do it for next year :)

So, I just read about the Waldorf school in the latest Phillymag. If that's the one Ellie goes to - wow. They are *rich*!

Next year I'll think of you on Jan. 5.

[Lilian]

"Errata": Never mind about the very last sentence in the previous comment. My memory is very bad, especially late at night :) The article in Phillymag is about the Montessori school...

[Liz]

Thank you for writing this blog. I'm sure it has helped you, but I can tell you it helps me, too. So it makes a difference.
Other commentator's leave notes saying "I can't imagine the pain you feel".
Unfortunately, I'm writing to say I know almost exactly how you feel.
It hurts, doesn't it? Every day.
I miss my baby.