We went to the Pride Parade in our city recently. (In the crazy of the head/neck injury and resulting toddler proofing of our house, I almost forgot to mention it).
Mr. MPB and I have never been to a pride parade before, but we thought it seemed like a great free activity that would expose Little MPB to an event which promotes love, diversity and equality – all things I very strongly support.
I figure, even if the real message went over Little MPB’s head this year, if nothing else he loved watching all the colours, costumes, flags, floats and balloons. And I must say, he really did enjoy watching the parade! And he especially loved eating nearly an entire ice-cream sandwich while watching the parade
But I have to admit, the most disheartening part of the parade was the counter protest we witnessed (I suspect maybe this is a regular thing at pride parades?). A religious group made a point to show up to chant not very nice things while holding not very nice signs. And all I thought was, this is definitely part of why I choose not to participate in organized religion at this point in my life. And, while I may not take my son to church (he will get exposure to religion through his grandparents, and he can make his own choice about religion in the future), I will always teach my son about love, kindness, compassion and acceptance of everyone.
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Our son’s birth mom has disappeared again. But as this is becoming more of a norm, I think I’m starting to figure my emotions around the silence a bit better.
I know a large part of my ongoing struggle with her decision not to respond is that I do not know why she’s not responding and when she does eventually respond, she usually doesn’t explain why she’s been so quiet. I like to think it’s because she’s busy with her child and her life. Or even that maybe it’s about access to communication. But, I realize that no matter how many or how long these random silences are, I will always worry that something is seriously wrong. And that’s a worry that eats at me.
But, it’s also more than that. It’s the worry about how am I (we) going to explain to Little MPB one day why his birth mother doesn’t respond for months at a time. I am not naïve enough to think Little MPB wont ask why one day – all kids love to ask why, and from what I’m told kids in the adoption community almost always seek to understand their unique why’s. So, I find myself worrying, how will I help him understand why, when I don’t even understand why? I will never lie to him about anything in his past – that’s not fair to him (and I’m a horrible liar anyways). But, in answering honestly I will have to say, I don’t know, it also seems so cruel to not have answers.
And so, while I have no real answer, I know that I will always be able to tell Little MPB that we love her, we care for her and we will keep reaching out to her. And when she’s ready, she’ll get back to us.
This response feels unfair to Little MPB, but it’s all I can think of.
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My Perfect Breakdown 