The Intrusion of Others

I’m struggling with open adoption again. It is such a hard thing! I feel like I have no control over parenting, my hands are stayed by biological connections perceived as stronger than my daily caretaking role. This feeling of melancholy stems not only from feeling like I lack parental control, but also my only family issues revolving around my grandfather’s impending passing and my mother’s damaging self-victimization. I feel a mess; just a total jumbled mess of confliction, self-pity, and confusion on which way to turn, what decision to make. I’m trying to pin down my unrest, untangle the intricate parts in hopes of allaying fears and moving forward.

 

Saturday I had a mostly child-free day. The little one’s grandmother came to pick them up before 9:30 in the morning. I was just finishing Chica Marie’s hair when they arrived. After a brief visit and wrestling the car seats into the back of Grandma’s car, the children were gone and I was on my way to the lab. For work we have to do a Get Healthy routine lab work in order to get a fairly significant discount on what we pay for our health insurance. So, every year I begrudgingly head to the lab for some unnecessary poking and prodding because I can use every penny I earn. Fortunately, the lab was not busy and I was in and out before the actual time of my 10 am appointment. Even though we don’t have to, I fast for the lab work, so  I was hungry. I had planned on going to breakfast with Primero, but he didn’t get out of bed before I left and wasn’t answering my texts. I decided to forego breakfast out and went home to make some eggs and coffee. Then, I headed to the farm.

 

My father had contacted me on Friday, warning my grandfather’s health was failing and suggesting I try to see him as soon as I could. I figured it would easiest for me to go alone and so I drove the distance there after my breakfast at home. When I arrived at my grandparents place on the farm, there were an abnormal number of cars parked in front of their place. I thought everyone had come home to see my grandfather. Inside the house I encountered my aunt and uncle, my oldest cousin, a spiritual advisor and a nurse talking to my grandmother. When my grandfather was at the doctor last week, he finally convinced my grandmother to get hospice help for my grandfather to keep them both at home safely. My grandmother has been caring for my grandfather since he got sick and in his current frail state he really isn’t able to do anything for himself and she is growing weary. The commotion soon died down as one-by-one the other visitors left and I was finally alone with my grandparents.

 

My grandfather, who has always been thin yet surprisingly strong, was frail and weak, sitting propped up in a chair in their living room. His skin, once browned by the sun and wind from working outdoors, was ghostly white, barring the various spots of burgundy from bruises that dotted his paper-thin skin. His strong work-worn hands hung limply off the arms of the chair and his once piercing blue eyes, now sunken in and dulled to gray, held mere flashes of recognition. He was but a shell of the man he had been, the surgeries, cancer and other health ailments that have dogged him this last decade have sucked all the life from him. It hurt to see him looking so forlorn, to see him so fragile and frail. I sat and held his hand while my grandmother went to the barn to care for the animals. It took all I had to not sit and sob, the tears having escaped more than a few times while I hugged him and tried to tell him how much he meant to me, what a great and wonderful grandfather he has been my whole life.

 

After my grandmother returned from her duties at the barn, we sat and talked. Interspersed among our reminiscence of times past, my grandmother unloaded a lot about my mom. Some of it I knew about, some of it I found hard to believe, and some of it was just downright troubling to know my grandmother felt the way she did about my mom. The floodgates opened when I mentioned my mom and I weren’t really talking, since the incident in September. I didn’t respond to much of what my grandmother had said, I just listened. As my sister and a friend said, she has been going through a lot taking care of my grandfather and just needed to unload. Still, a few things were disturbing to me and I worry that my grandmother actually believes what she said. And, while demonizing my mother, she praised my aunt for being a “gem.” I view my aunt differently, but I don’t want to keep going with the character assassination and so I will just leave it at everyone has both good and bad qualities. I stayed with my grandparents until after 2 and then hustled to get back home.

 

Primero had slept until well after noon but was awake and ready to go by the time I got home. We ran a few errands before having to get back home to meet the kids by 4. Grandma had sent me a text with a picture – she had taken the kids to see some of their older siblings. I didn’t feel ok with this for a few reasons. One, I sent the kids to visit with their grandmother and older sister, Mini Momma. Grandma never mentioned to me they would be seeing their other older siblings or anyone else for that matter. I hated being left out of the loop like that. And, I worried about behavioral reactions from Chica Marie. I also worried about how the county would respond to such a visit when I tell them what occurred. I know at one point the county had requested the girls not see their older male siblings due to some worries I cannot speak about here. I don’t know if those worries are still valid so I emailed the county to find out. I also feel like with the grandmother running interference, it doesn’t give me the opportunity to help build a relationship with the older siblings for the little ones. I feel like Grandma has put herself smack dab in the middle and, while I’m sure she sees it as forging that relationship, it really hinders a more organic development. Am I wrong to think this might have been something Grandma could have mentioned before taking the kids for that visit? Because I do worry that it’s my own fear and fragility rearing its ugly head. I’ll be honest, when Grandma brought them back home and immediately asked for a sleep-over, stating she’s ready, my heart constricted thinking she was going to ask for custody of the littlest ones too. And, since I have little to no trust in “the system” making rational and sound decisions, I worry the biological connection would out-weigh my 2 plus years of care-taking and devotion. I’m not ready for a sleep-over, not just for all the reasons mentioned, but because I also worry about how much supervision there is for Chica Marie specifically. I know these two are not yet my children, but for the love! Love Bug has known no other mommy but me. Chica Marie has had a stable home with me for over 2 years. It’s really hard, after all that time of autonomy, to give it up and let the children be taken wherever someone else wishes. And I have no say in the matter.

 

Following in that vein, Primero spent the night at his uncles last night. My qualm here is more with what I feel is disrespect to my station as his parent than anything else. When things went down in September (apparently September was not a good month for me!) I tried to bridge the gap, asking for a sit-down meeting between myself and Primero’s aunt and uncle. A terse phone conversation, days after living on pins and needles thinking they were going to move Primero into their home, was the only conversation we had on the matter. And we have not really talked since then. A few weeks ago Primero was talking to his uncle and was asked why he hasn’t been over. Primero replied because we had never met and talked as planned and I wasn’t comfortable having Primero go over there until that happened. That still never spawned a conversation. And, because I was massively hurt by how things happened during that horrid time in September, I have slowly been giving up Primero. I felt I had no choice when he mentioned spending the night because to say no would cause damage, no matter how I felt I was treated, no matter how insignificant my position had been rendered. To me, they are saying Primero is allowed to treat me like a revolving door in favor of his more lenient aunt and uncle. After all, despite my lawful position as his parent, they are blood and therefore their decisions are allowed to outweigh mine. They can claim to be willing to take legal action to take custody, no matter what the courts have already decreed on the matter. I find it unforgiveable that his uncle let me live for days believing he would be coming over to take my son at any moment. I find it deplorable that my request for an adult meeting went unanswered and I am expected to carry on, business as usual. And yes, I worry about what promises they might make Primero while keeping their game face on in front of me. It’s sad to think this all could have been avoided if only his uncle had been willing to have a frank conversation with me. Now, I am left wondering where I stand and what other plans might be made behind my back?

 

I am growing weary of open adoption. I am tired of the intrusion of others on my life. I despise having my rules, my desires for how I wish to raise my children be trampled callously. I ache to be able to feel secure in my position as mother, yet worry at the tiniest unraveled thread that my whole world will come crashing down around me. I’m frustrated at the insistence that biology, not secure attachment, not giving and caring daily, but mere biology reigns supreme. Times like these I wish everyone would go away. I wish we could be left alone as our own nuclear family. I am weary. I am tired. I feel like giving up.

 

Sunday evening my mom text me, “Thanks for stopping up to see me yesterday!” adding fodder to my already blackened name on her long list of hurts, I didn’t visit with her when I had come for the sole purpose of seeing my ailing grandfather. Shame on me.