Let me start this post with an apology – to everyone. I have been less than supportive, less than a friend to my friends lately. I have missed birthdays, skipped get togethers and avoided phone calls. I have been wrapped up in me. I may be for the next, oh, 5 months, since the BAD months are coming. Birthmom friends can identify here – September is Monkey’s bday (and starting Kindergarten), October is Halloween, November is Thanksgiving and Sugar Butt’s birthday then the one that takes them all, Christmas. All kid centered, all a reminder of what I am missing out on. So let me apologize now, for I know I will not be able to during the BAD months.
I have fallen asleep several nights this past week writing this post in my head. Gut instinct. The powerful thing it is.
Anyone whom has met me in real life (wahoo!) knows that I am the kind of person whom you either hit it off with or, well, don’t. I carry around that energy as protection. I trust you from the start or I never will. Usually my instincts are right about these kinds of things. I will make little to no effort to sustain a friendship with someone whom friendship is work, I will not ‘force’ chemistry.
That said, I did not hit it off with H & T. I did love them, instantly, for their interest in my baby (for he was still mine then, 100%). I struggled to be their friend, not just their ‘carrier’. To be fair, we did hang out some. We laughed, yes. I made them dinner (only now do I see how backwards this was), encouraged them on their foster journey. There was just never an ease of conversation that comes when you have the same sort of energy that I do.
I shrugged it off. I was looking for a mother for my son, not a best friend. I figured we could develop a friendship, fall in as family over our mutual love for this little soul. H and I have always had a sort of awkward relationship, I took it for him being Useless’ friend. I am especially awkward around men that I do not click with, so this never really shocked me.
At the time, I was incredibly unaware of the demand for a white, male baby in this country. My son could have had any of 1000 lives, all different, all loving. Had I known this at the time, I may have let that uneasy feeling rule the placement. I didn’t. I was [blissfully] unaware. I did not see my child as a commodity. Surely there was no one else in the world who wanted a child from as damaged a beginning as Monkey had, right?
Now I know better. Now I know I should have trusted my gut. Now I know why T raged when someone accused them of trading their vehicle for a baby when they let us borrow it. We were disposable. We were not people who needed transportation help, but a means to an end. Maybe they didn’t see it that way. Maybe I have it all wrong. I hope so. I just know that this is what my gut was feeling – a sense of wrongness that is now reality.
With Love Always