The First Meeting

The First Meeting

I had only seen my son one time,
As a newborn held in arms of mine,
So perfect and small, so precious,
My son I would love but not to see.

Twenty three years later I find him,
My shock over shadowed by my love for him,
Love that had been within my very soul,
Finding him has made my existence whole again.

Overwhelmed I was with all of this,
Wanting to know so much was my wish,
Fear of rejection was in my thoughts,
Learning to talk and all that it brought.

One day I suggested we meet if he wanted,
My son agreed, my wish was granted,
The deep yearning to see how he looked,
My feelings so complex I couldnt talk.

So many feelings resurfacing from deep inside,
The hurt and the pain, of tears I had cried,
Of not parenting my son, not seeing him grow,
Missing so much of of his life, I was low.

I was scared but needing to see him,
My love for him was great and never dim,
The day came quickly and I was glad,
Never again would I have to feel so sad.

My son was an hour late to our meeting place,
My thoughts of lost years not to be replaced,
The start of new memories of times to come,
Waiting there in an early day of autumn.

He walked straight past me into the pub,
I waited a few moments then into the noisy pub,
Then I sat by him, scared to talk to him,
Amazed that there was no mistaking my kin.

We talked and I gave him a copied marriage certificate,
He gave me photographs, was this my fate?
To meet then no more contact for us,
One of the photographs of him as a baby, why did I fuss.

The tears dried quickly as we shared a hug,
I didn't want to let go, it was like a drug,
The afternoon and evening went far to quick,
I made the most of it being strong as a brick.

The day couldn't have been better,
Except for my husband being at the end of his tether,
We sorted this out, our love strong,
With my son the much needed bond.

What more could I ask for of my men,
I love them both in different ways then,
A day to remember always, never forgotten,
A sense of peace that is my own haven.

First Mother

First Mother

I am a mother yet I am not acknowledged,
No more children for me yet I have one,
To the world I am married yet childless,
My son loves me yet I have none.

My heart aches for what I have lost,
Yet my heart is happy for what I have gained,
I may not have a child in my life,
Yet who knows I may gain grandchildren.

My son is so special to me,
He has yet to trust another,
His love is yet to grow for him towards me,
All I want to be is a second mother.

We have much in common through our genes,
I want to hug him so many times,
We are as one family he knows what it means,
What more could I want life is so fine.

Self indulgence

We have had our friends youngest son over since Thursday and he has been comical at times.  'Little man' as we affectionately call him is three years old, is still in nappies and he is 'behind' in his speech. His parents have been told he could be autistic.

Over the past couple of days I have been getting him on the toilet every 3 - 4 hours which seems to be doing the trick.  'Little man' wakes up with a wet nappy and doesn't do anything when I get him on the toilet first thing.  That doesn't bother me as he stays dry for the rest of the day.  It's become a bit of a game as he knows he gets a hug and a treat for using the toilet.

Each afternoon 'little man' has become extremely happy and funny which has lasted until he has fallen asleep.  We have found the trick to get him to sleep when we want him to sleep is for me to cuddle him.  It has been a little bit of self indulgence on my part as I never got to do this as my son was adopted and not having any more children.  I have enjoyed him snuggling in and cuddling me until he is asleep.  This evening 'little man' was even happier than usual so did every thing he could think off to stay awake including pinching himself.  He decided he was going to play with me and was shrieking with laughter as I gave into him.  If I stopped 'little man' would shout 'Pip' until I started playing with him again.  Eventually tiredness got the better of him and he did start yawning and calmed down.  I had to put him down though as he was fighting the tiredness.  Within about 15 minutes 'little man' gave in and was sound asleep.

It's at times like this that the ache of not raising my son hits me hard. 'Little man' has blue eyes the same as my son does which leaves me feeling a bit choked up at times like this. He has brown hair though whereas my son has blonde hair.  I wonder, when I play with him, what it would have been like raising my son.  What he was like at the same age?

In the past I found it hard to interact with friends sons.  It was too painful.  Maybe having been reunited has helped me to work through that.  My friends sons love spending time with us as we take them over the park and to the local locomotion museum.  The other two have bright ginger hair and aged 5 and 9 so very independent.  Of course these days I have to deal with the pain and sadness of knowing I will never know my grandson.  My son has made his feelings quite clear.  This is what adoption does, for us it has destroyed our lives and my son is allowing the cycle affect his son's life by not including one grandmother.

When will it stop? 

Happy Birthday Anthony

Another birthday has arrived and today you are 31 years old.  As always I am thinking off you and hoping you are having a good time.  Give your son a hug every day as this time with him is precious.  Before you know he will be a grown man himself.  The years go by too quickly.  I will always love you more than you realize. 

Capturing those special moments.

We have our friends youngest son over for a few days.  When he is on his own he is a little sweetheart and much easier to deal with when he is told off.  The little angel is three years old, he is 'behind' with his speech and is still in nappies (diapers ;) ).

This afternoon and this evening 'little man' as we affectionately call him has been very happy.  Hubby was sleeping for a few hours as he hasn't been sleeping well lately.  'Little man' spent quite a bit of time on my lap chattering away in his way pointing at different things trying to pronounce the words for different things.  It made me smile and I was saying the words then he would attempt to repeat back.  Today 'little man' said one of our dogs names for the first which made me laugh as he said it so clearly.

This evening 'little man' snuggled right into me but refused to give into the tiredness.  If I tried moving slightly to get more comfortable he would fling his arms round me.  It was an effort not to cry as I missed out on all this with Anthony.  It's the first time in years that my emotions overwhelmed me.  I was glad I had a good excuse to cuddle him.  'Little man' loves his cuddles as he has to fight for attention at home.  His brothers interfere when he has 'mum' time.  For me, tonight, it has been a stark reminder of what I have missed out on not raising Anthony.   

Grief

On a forums I rarely 'visit' thread was started titled feelings of mothers after relinquishing their child.  One of the responses reminded me of the day of my mother's funeral.  I had found it hard to grief for my mother, most of the time I felt numb.  There had been unresolved issues between us mostly to do with my son.  She had never accepted him and I could never understand why she could love her first granddaughter yet so easily reject him just because I was single.  My mother loved all her granddaughters as they came along.  

When my son found my family my mother still couldn't accept him.  He was an adult, there was no mistaking he was my son but something inside my mother still wouldn't switch on.  I cannot understand how a mother can reject a grandchild when she knows what it is like to love her own children.  The rejection was bad enough for her to send him a letter in 2001 telling him to accept I didn't want to be found.  She knew that I wanted to be found  so it was cruel of her to lie.  What else could I have expected though as my family didn't tell him where I was.  The lame excuse was that they didn't know where I was but my sister had told my husband about my son.

On the day of the funeral I was okay until the service ended and we were going outside.  I got to the vicar then I absolutely howled.  Naturally he thought I was crying because it was my mother's funeral.  It went beyond that.  I was crying because she never once said sorry for what she put me through to make sure my son was adopted.  There was also the verbal abuse I suffered at her hands that I was never good enough.  I was always the black sheep of the family.  Nothing I could do would ever change her mind.  I was also crying because my mother had had the attitude that I was nothing to my son.  In her eyes his only mother was his adoptive mother.

Since then I have not been able to cry for my mother.  There was too much damage done and nothing could put it right because my mother refused to accept that she had been wrong.  It is such a profound feeling of pain being separated from a child and it can't be truly explained.

Y!A first - my giggle for the day.

I am wondering if this a first for Y!A for some one to have a dig at me in their question BEFORE I even answer it @ http://uk.answers.yahoo.com/question/index;_ylt=Apqrsb6guh3QjtIgHw8nN4IgBgx.;_ylv=3?qid=20120718104051AA97sAy .  I wasn't going to answer it and was simply having a look.  It actually made me laugh and just makes the person look stupid.  Personally I think this person is a troll and answered simply because she made me laugh.

This evening I went on the After Adoption forum for the first time in ages.   One of the reasons I don't go on there much is that the terms used for natural families really irritate the heck out of me.  For example the favourite one BM for birth mother then people wonder why some get so offended by it.  The members also go through periods of being nasty when attacking some one.  Nobody is going to agree all time but a little bit of respect goes a long way.  Apart from maybe one or two people nobody I used to get on with posts there any more any way.

I noticed the link for the Daily Mail was posted there and had a few responses.  These were very much 'middle of the road' comments which surprised me.  I responded with the background of the story and why I wont contact Anthony.  It gets back to his last malicious email to me threatening to take legal action if I did.  I only sent the one direct email to him letting him know my mum had died.  For weeks after I was terrified he would take out legal action.  I also worry that if I did have direct contact with him for a while that he would retaliate in a bad way if we then fell out again.  It's one of those cycles I really don't want to get into.

The reality is this hurts more than anything else that life chucks at me.  When depression gets that bad I have support in place.  Whenever I've had an accident and physically hurt myself the pain has gone away after a period of time.  The pain I feel for not being able to have a relationship with my only child is literally gut wrenching.  I feel as if my lungs are being squeezed tight as well to the point it hurts.  This makes me sound completely crazy but it is my life, my feelings.