Every day since Dominic was born, I find myself waiting.
I wait for a phone call from Marie. I wait for her to post new pictures to our shared Google Drive folder. I wait for the tears and pain to pass. I wait for the clock to tick away the minutes until my next visit.
On my really bad days, waiting feels the same as wasting time. All these months that Dominic has been a baby, I’ve been waiting in the wings to be called onto the stage of his life. When I’m front and center, time could not be more precious. But when I am waiting, time is simply wasted.
His first smile, the first time he tried solid foods, the first time he rolled over, sat up, stood up, crawled. Those moments can never be recaptured for me to experience.
I am his birthmother, not his parenting mother, so this is simply a reality. I knew this when I chose adoption.
Well, I did, and I didn’t.
I knew I would not be part of his daily life or responsible for his care; that’s the whole idea.
But I didn’t know how the weight of missed moments would grow as the days passed. I didn’t know I would wrestle with jealousy, envy, regret and waiting.
Giving Dominic to another family means I have voluntarily stepped into the wings. I watch from a distance, savoring every glimpse into his life. My day-to-day serves as a reminder of who holds the curtain between him and me; for this I am both jealous and thankful.
I wish I could be his protector, his provider, his full-time parent. But at the same time, I’m thankful that Robby and Marie are those things and more to him.
When I handed them my newborn baby, I gave them permission to lower the curtain between Dominic and me. I want them to bond with Dominic into a family, looking out for each other with abundant love.
And though it hurts, I do indeed want to be the one waiting in the wings, because that’s what I decided is best. It’s just that on the days when I feel like I have wasted his babyhood by standing at a distance, I hate waiting.
What are your feelings on waiting for important moments? Share your thoughts in the comment box below.
This is a beautiful description of your grief and acceptance that you chose a loving, thoughtful alternative for all of you. I pray that you will gain release from the emotional pain and suffering. Praise God that Dominic is a healthy, happy baby in a loving family with you in the wings.
Miss Emily ~~ this is a ‘heart on your sleeve’ presentation of the highs and lows you are experiencing. I am sorry for the pains you feel, and the pain any birthmother feels. I wish I knew the answer to not making you feel like you are waisting time. 🙁
I’m so glad that your child has a birthmother who still loves and cares for him. I hope the pain gets easier to bear in time.
Have you thought about making him something for him to have? A project that takes a lot of effort, like a quilt or a scrapbook or something, that you could work on while you’re waiting? I’ve never been where you are, so I don’t know if it would help, but maybe it would help the time feel a tiny bit less wasted… I was thinking of Hannah in the Bible and how she gave Samuel to Eli, and how she would make him little robes. It says God blessed her with more children but I’m sure she never stopping missing Samuel either.
Thanks for your comment, Jenna. I do have a project or two in the works, and I know other birthmoms like scrapbooking a lot. I am still trying to find what works for me. I really appreciate the mention of Hannah, and I also appreciate the suggestion of a project. Thanks. 🙂
Emily, beautifully written. You experience the empty nest, yet still feel so connected. I imagine it feels like you are wasting time, waiting, but truly waiting carries its own perspective on life. One day, I hope you will be able to value your waiting in the wings (of angels).
Motherhood is so complex, we truly do not fully understand the immensity of the connection that drives an adopted child to search for their birth parent, even when the adopted parents provided a loving, nurturing home. What you are experiencing is the other side of the separation. Words cannot express the depth of loss that follows giving up a child, yet you have done well with a refreshing yet brutal honesty.