Expectations

Normally, parents have a good idea of how their children will react to a comment or to an emotion, but when  you haven't raised that child, everything is a surprise. Sometimes not a good one. Even talking with my daughter on the phone is difficult because I always start to fall into a familiar roll of mother and she never acts/reacts like my other daughter. Because of our ages, I'm afraid there won't be enough time to have much of a relationship, but I won't give up. Too bad I can't go back, start over from the night she was born and make this right.

Read this entry below as I recently found out that my pages on the right are limited...

EXPECTATIONS

Most people remember the first feel of their newborn baby. Now, I too, remember the first hug and how she smelled so fresh. She was 38 years old the first time I looked into her blue eyes, my grandmother's eyes, and hugged her to me. Her whole body vibrated as we embraced and I didn't want to let go of her. With every breath I took, I was afraid the moment would dissolve and I'd find it was only a dream. With every breath, I knew that if it were a dream, there was no way to hang onto it, no way to hang on to her. There is such a place as heaven and hell on earth.

Parents also remember the sound of their newborn's voice. From the first cries, a mother remembers the timbre of that tiny sound. I wonder how that can possibly happen, but I'm sure that it does, because I heard my baby's very first cry after she was born and though I didn't hear that voice again for 38 years, I remembered it, her voice was so familiar that I felt as if I'd been struck by a giant warm fist of slow moving air. Now, every time I hear the first words she speaks of every conversation we have, I get the same feeling of déjà vu.

I don't think she recognizes my voice, though I talked to her often before she was born. I also cried to her because of the uncertainty of our future and the fearfulness I felt. I was not wise in matters of the adult world and I knew I was about to begin on a journey all alone, save for her, but she was helpless and I knew I was the only one who would protect her. Turns out, I couldn't do it, I didn't protect her, I didn't know how to protect her. My fears were realized.

Now that we have finally met, things are not as I imagined our life together would be. The biggest surprise was finding out that she had lost her mother at age 9, lost her father when she was 16 and her grandmother at about age 21. That is a lot of loss when you understand that it began with losing me. The stigma of adoption is never an easy one.

The more we try to settle into a comfortable relationship, the more it becomes blaringly obvious that there will not be a comfortable relationship - at least for quite some time to come. Even though she lost her mother at such a young age, her world was crafted and molded by a combination of familial cultures that are not mine. I didn't expect that - didn't even think about it, to be honest, yet it stands between us like the Grand Canyon.

I was so happy to find her that I believed she would fit right in to my family, but she didn't. I used a family BBQ to introduce her. It was awkward for everyone, but my siblings and their families should have made more of an effort. Only later did I wonder if each of them have their own issues surrounding my daughter's addition to our family. My daughter is now the oldest grandchild; she brought five children into the fold that has been neatly folded for some time and, it seems, that fold is unwilling to loosen. Also, as outgoing as my daughter can be, she was nervous and withdrawn. In my excitement of finally having her with me, I wanted to show her off, but the BBQ was pushing her out there too soon. Relationships cannot be forced.

Perhaps my biggest mistake so far is being naïve enough to believe she wanted the same thing in this relationship that I wanted. For every year that passed without her in my life, I actually imagined the things we would have been doing, like the Christmas gifts I would buy her, the birthday parties she would have and the day to day mother-daughter closeness I believed would have blossomed. I wanted her with me so badly that I created a world for us where she always behaved or spoke what I expected she would. The reality of it is that she is very much like me in some respects. I was rocked to my toes when I found out how stubborn she can be! My little dream world didn't have room for negativity, argument or undesirable genetic traits, but it is those very traits that would have endeared her to my dad. He would have been her hero, and she would have been his princess. My daughter has many of my dad's mannerisms, personal beliefs and attitudes. Her voice is even a bit like his, only feminine, but she will never meet my dad; he died four years before we found each other.

Dad would have loved her even meeting her when she was 38 and he was living in a nursing home. They would have had that special bond instantly - a bond stronger and more resilient than the one between her and me. Many times, I've gone to his grave to tell him that I found her. In my heart, I have to believe he knows about her, that he can see her, and that he is happy and proud. It breaks my heart to know they will never share a laugh and that she will never experience one of his bear hugs. A religious friend of mine believes that upon his passing, Dad somehow found her and sent her to me. That pain of that being a possibility is too profound and too complete; I want them both in my life. Where is it written that I could have only one of them?

I need his strength. In my little dream world all these years, my dad was here helping me and loving her.

So much precious time has been lost.