“Might I,” quavered Mary, “might I have a bit of earth?”...“Earth!” he repeated. “What do you mean?”“To plant seeds in–to make things grow–to see them come alive,” Mary faltered. He gazed at her a moment and then passed his hand quickly over his eyes...“A bit of earth,” he said to himself, and Mary thought that somehow she must have reminded him of something. When he stopped and spoke to her his dark eyes looked almost soft and kind. “You can have as much earth as you want,” he said. “You remind me of some one else who loved the earth and things that grow. When you see a bit of earth you want," with something like a smile, “take it, child, and make it come alive.” “May I take it from anywhere–if it’s not wanted?”
Saturday, May 19, 2012
Mother's Day was this past weekend and you have been on my mind a lot lately. Most of the time when I think about you, it is with disgust. I guess I am having a change of heart. I am beginning realize how much I owe. I can legitimately say this year that Branden is my son. I signed the adoption paperwork on April 9th. So it was over a month ago now.
I used to think that you didn't deserve a Mother's Day...a day in which we honor moms for their love and support. But, you see, no matter how I look at it, without you, I wouldn't have my son. He was inside you. You carried him there for 9 months. Your sustenance was his sustenance. You labored to bring him into this world. You sustained him for six years. I understand that because of your own limitations, you were unable to parent him properly. And although I will not pretend that you did the best you could, I do believe you did the best you knew how. You could have had him aborted...you could have purposely taken drugs and alcohol in an attempt to "naturally" abort him, he could be much more disabled than he already is. Thank you for giving my son life. Thank you for giving him a chance to be a part of this world, and eventually a part of my family. I am sorry for you that your baby was taken away. I am sorry for him that he has to sustain that loss for the rest of his life. But, I am so so very happy for me that he is mine.
I often forget t hat Mother's Day is bittersweet for B. This year was a Mother's Day of gain...and of loss. Because of that, I often struggle with hating you. I know he does, too. You used to be "my-birth-mother-who-I-love-more-than-I-love-you". You used to be "mommy". Then you were "my-birth-mother-who-didn't-mean-to-put-me-in-a-cage." Now he calls you "my-birth-mother-I-wish-she-was-dead." I hate that he has to chose. I hate that you caused this. I hate that I cannot protect him from it. I constantly tell myself that you are sick--that you couldn't help it. I even try to tell myself that maybe you are simply a product of your own childhood. Because of that, I refuse right now to let him have a relationship with your parents.
I pray constantly that he can recover from what you did and di not do. I have very high expectations and lofty dreams for him. I believe he will make it. He will shock people. And I believe he will inspire people. Despite where he came from, he WILL make it. If you instilled anything in him, it is how to survive.
Anyway, thank you for my little boy.