Madison woke up today and remembered that tomorrow is Rosco’s baby shower. She’s been working on decorations all week so she’s been keeping track of when Saturday is coming.
I was making coffee cake when Madison went into her bedroom and brought out a tiny teddy bear with a red bow around its neck.
“Can I go find some wrapping paper we’re not using to wrap this up for Rosco?” she asked. Of course I said yes so she headed down to the basement (where she normally refuses to go without Noah reinforcement since it’s dark down there by the wrapping paper) and came back with green crinkly paper and the tape. She took her time getting the wrap just right, which isn’t easy when you’re five and the wrapping paper is so very crinkly and slippery. Then she went back downstairs and came up with the music box from her old crib mobile. She is very fond of this music box but she wrapped it up, too.
Later, while we waited for the coffee cake to bake, Madison started to cry. She’s scared about having a new brother and she’s scared about losing her birth mama, Pennie, who may have to move temporarily to help her partner deal with some estate stuff in his hometown. It’s a lot for her to handle and Rosco hasn’t even arrived yet.
It’s a lot for me, too. I’m divided in my worries — for Pennie, for Madison — and frustrated by my inability to swoop in and make it all easier somehow.
I sometimes think that Madison’s recent embrace of big sisterhood has more to do with cultivating her birth mama’s favor than with the idea of baby Rosco. As she wrapped up her beloved music box, I wondered if she’s wrapping it up for him or for Pennie or for herself, to reassure herself that she is definitely a part of it all even though her brother will live someplace else.
Lately she’s been singing in the car, “Adopted adopted adopt-ED!” She sings about her birth mama. She kisses and hugs and pats Pennie’s belly then whispers, “You are my adopted brother, Rosco!” Because she knows what adopted means but doesn’t know exactly how to explain to herself what it is to have a brother who is snuggled in the same uterus you once occupied but will not be coming to stay at your house.
“I don’t want Pennie to go away!” she cried this morning, huddled in my arms, wiping her nose on the sleeve of my shirt. “I don’t want her to take my baby brother away! I want my birth mama to stay here!”
I do, too. I want everything to stay still while Madison grows up; I want everything to be easy. I can’t wait to tickle Rosco’s toes and see Madison reflected in his eyes but I dread it, too, because I know it’s all going to get harder. She’s already crying — how much worse will it be when Rosco is taking up “her” space on Pennie’s lap?
And I hurt for Pennie who’s pregnancy is fraught with the echo of her pregnancy with the child she lost. Nothing is easy after adoption. Nothing but the love and sometimes love doesn’t feel like enough.
To tell you the truth, I wish it was October already so that Rosco would be here and we could move from anticipation to knowing. I am anxious to get over a lot of firsts: The first time Madison sees her birth mama in a bed like the bed where she was born (Pennie is delivering in the same hospital). The first time Madison sees Rosco nurse. The first time Pennie has to say, “Gently, gently” when Madison reaches for her baby brother. (Madison is incredibly sensitive to any perceived criticism from Pennie.) Those things are going to hurt so much and I want to get through them to the other side. The anticipation is killing me because I can see it coming and there’s nothing — nothing — I can do but wait for it to happen.
It’s not the open of open adoption that causes the pain; it’s the adoption part. I watch Madison hug Pennie’s belly and pat back when Rosco kicks and I feel so grateful that she can process her own gestation by visiting her brother’s. Even though the next step to thinking about being Pennie’s baby is thinking about NOT being Pennie’s baby and that is painful for her (for both of them). But it’s true. It’s true that she was Pennie’s baby and now she’s not. Certainly it’s a hard, hurtful thing to grasp at 5-years old and every time I hold her as she cries about it, I wish I could heal her heart just by wishing the pain away. But it’s her hurt — she has a right to it. She has a right to hurt with her birth mama and she has a right to come to me and cry and grow and heal and be her own full self, which includes the story of her adoption.
I thought of all of this while I watched her wrap her presents. (I am lying by omission — I think about it all the time even when Madison’s head is someplace entirely.) This child — so small and sturdy and strong — inherited such a lot of hardship at 72 hours old.
Rosco and his big sister Madison, made in honor of the baby shower
This is my Open Adoption Roundtable post.
Wow, this is brutal even just to read. It must be so hard to watch her struggling. I’m curious how Noah feels about all of this, if you ever want to write about that.
And even though it’s clearly tough, I’m so glad Madison is getting to deal with this now while she’s young and has the support of so many people who love her, rather than finding out about it much later after a lifetime of uncertainty. I think you’re absolutely right that openness isn’t the problem but is part of what relieves the problem for her.
Noah reads my blog and after he read this he put his head down and said, “Now I’m depressed.”
I think if this had happened earlier on that he would have been jealous of Rosco because when Madison was little he said he wanted to be the only brother. (I think that’s somewhere in my archives but I don’t know where.) But now he’s kind of excited for himself and he’s just very caring and tender towards Madison. He knows this is going to be tough for her and he’s a very empathetic/compassionate kid. Sometimes when she’s crying he’ll come and sit by us or she’ll say, “I want Noah!” and he’ll come and hold her.
Brett, on the other hand, is a complete mess about it. He’s not great with big emotion and this has him looking like a cornered bunny — all twitchy and big-eyed.
sheet. that made me cry. no words.
other than boo since my gift for pennie was shipped to ME rather than her. I will remail but it wont be there saturday.
Tears in my eyes too. This is all just hard…
Madison really has a safe place to land when she does deal with things – you are a rocking mom (anyway) but your devotion to work through all of this and more importantly, letting M find her own way is nothing short of spectacular.
And I heart Noah.
I’m just crying and crying here too… The thought of her wrapping her precious things just breaks my heart. I cannot imagine how it breaks yours, and hers, and Pennie’s… all of this. I’ll email you about the other stuff.
I just popped in and didn’t expect to cry. It’s all so tender and… geez, this is real life. You sound like a fantastic mom. Thanks for sharing this!
I don’t have any good words to say either. Just a lot of love to send out to you and Madison and Penny and Roscoe and Noah and Brett. The whole lot of you…this is a big deal for all of you and I am thinking of you all and watching with empathy as you move through it.
I just wanted to let you know that this also brought tears to my eyes. I constantly think about Pennie and her previous Maddie/Maddy (depending on what day it is:p) pregnancy. I remember the frantic phone calls from halfway across the country and begging her to come home so we could care for her. I remember when she decided on adoption. I also remember sitting with her and looking through these notebooks of families willing to take this child and love her no matter what. I know she has probably told you over and over but you guys were the only family we liked and we knew you guys were the one. When I read this, I am reassured in her decision, in our decision. I love you immensely even though we don’t know each other extremely well. Dawn you are an amazing person and thank you for being an amazing mother for Madison. I look forward to seeing Roscoe and Maddie meet. I know she will love him unconditionally. Things make be easier than we expect. Wow… that is a long response! Sorry to get so carried away. I will stop now.
Sam, someday you’re going to have to tell Madison all you know about her beginnings! She is very lucky to have someone else in her life who can share the story with her. I’m so glad that you’re in Pennie’s life and in OUR lives!!!! (Even if we don’t get to see enough of you!)
Thanks for being so honest and straightforward in your writing of this, Dawn. I feel for all of you, and yet also agree with everyone that its so, so good its happening now- in real time, so to speak. I wish that our adoptions were more open and I think a lot of their processing will get delayed because they aren’t. My own lessons have been so different from yours so far- more about learning how to let go of what I wish would be in the best interests of my boys. Its hard either way, just different kinds of hardness I guess. Love to you all-
Cynthia
My heart aches for you as a mother in the fact you can’t fix it. But my heart also swells in the fact that you and Madison are so strong, that your relationship is so strong Your patience with yourself and this experience…. it’s all very inspiring. Thank you for sharing.
Wow… just wow.
I’ve tried about 50 different ways to start a comment, but no real words are coming.
That was so deeply emotional to read. Thank you for sharing.
[...] at This Woman’s Work shares how even a simple expression of love for a soon-to-be-born baby brother can be fraught with [...]
I have an 11 year old birthson; we have a completely open adoption. I now parent my 22 month old son, and boy, what a spin he has put on our journey! I would love to cut and paste this story in my livejournal, with your permission.
Hi Patti — yes you are welcome to (thanks for asking). With love we shall persevere, right?