I read. I feel for the pulse. I worry. I love.
I am finding a lot to read about the pain, damage, dishonesty, greed and cruelty surrounding adoption.
am I a mother? I do not know. What do other mothers say? Could I feel more strongly about the person I call my son? Another unanswerable question. Guessing yes. And then no. My heart swells and swells. Thank you to those who gave me a kid to care for.
twenty four years ago my husband and I joyfully, beyond measure!, transported a beautiful baby from the airport to our home. I believed then and believe now that we were not replacing the people who created, birthed and, – must have, how could they not have – loved this child. I believed then and believe now that no one can be loved too much.
perhaps adoptive parents are a small piece of collateral damage. Hanging on so tight, letting go so loose, loving hard and expecting so little. Probably, for me, expecting too much.
was it wrong, what we did? More and more I wonder. A sandwich analogy seems frivolous. On the other hand, food is sustenance, as is love. We loved and love him so much, this person who is not ours or mine or anyone’s other than his own. Open-faced it is. We did our best to lay a foundation with hopes he would fly, open faced, open.
The Lunch Encounter 