You are Going to Do What?!

We have a pretty open adoption with our oldest daughter’s birthmother – E.

She got married this past weekend and we have been thinking about her quite a bit these days. Especially how her life has changed in the past 3 years. She is now married and is expecting a baby in the fall.

While I never went into this process asking for, or really expecting such an open arrangement, I have come to terms (on most days) with my extended family. As time passes, I expect our relationship will only deepen and I hope as she grows her family – first husband and soon another child that she will parent – we will become even closer. Relating to each other as only two mothers can do.

Today on my way to work I was thinking about our first visit with E. In October 2005, we went to meet our prospective birthmother in person (as I would think any adoptive parent would want to right?) and yet, at every turn I asked by family and friends alike, “you are going to do what?!”

10/2005
We sat at the hostess’s station, waiting to meet E. The place was dark, with Christmas lights in the rafters. There were lots of funky pictures and paintings on the walls. We were so nervous.

She had said to watch for ‘a pregnant woman wearing a red shirt with very short hair.’ And then in an instant, in she came. I hugged her and said hello. Jokingly commenting on the short, shaved hair. She smiled.

We sat down and the conversation started. It flowed really well much to our suprise. She had pale skin, several small earrings, and a shiny tongue ring that rattled when she laughed. She had a nice smile. Every once in a while, I caught her rubbing her belly. She was tiny, except for that belly.

When the waitress came, she ordered chicken tenders and fries and a Sprite. I wanted her to order something more ‘sensible’ something that would prove to me that she watched what she ate, that she was taking care of our possible child-to-be. No such luck. She proceeded to dip and roll each and every fry into sugar. So much for wanting. Eating habit, like everything else on this ride wasn’t up to me. She invited us to try her pregnancy craving creation and we did. She also liked peppermint ice cream.

To that point, we had semi-open match. Meaning that no last names had been exchanged. Well, she didn’t know our last name. Then my dorky husband takes out his little blue photo / scapbook albumn that his mother had lovingly put together for our wedding. The book had pictures of trips to the shore, first day of school, and various 80’s mullet haircuts. The cover had 3-inch high gold letters – including our last name. Welcome openess!

After eating dessert, E asked us if we wanted to stop by her apartment to meet her dog for a few moments. We said yes, taking our time to pay the bill and slowly drive there. We knew she had to talk to her dad first to process everything with him. She lived in an apartment complex and had a tennis court in her back yard. The apartment was small, a mess of blankets where a couch would be. The t.v. and computer monitor sat side by side. Her kitchen was a mix of bottles, beer and soda. I prayed there was food in the fridge (here I go again – but one could hope right?) A small hallway of three closed doors. She shared some paintings, her own work, with us.

We took some pictures together, and with the dog. We all agreed that what had transpired in the last 3 hours actually felt more normal than not. It felt good to be so honest with each other.
We left, with a hug and a promise to talk this weekend. Maybe even a visit soon. She invited us to come anytime.

And then we were off, driving back to our other lives.