Inconsequential

I didn’t want to make it a thing. But, yesterday while the county case worker was visiting Chica Marie was pesting Primero, she wanted a hug and since he wouldn’t give her one, she kept flinging herself on him trying to steal one. Primero became frustrated and called to me to stop her, using my full name, something he never does. He always calls me by my nickname. This morning, he brought it up, mentioning how strange it was that he used my full name and I guess I was feeling a little puckish because I asked him why he couldn’t or wouldn’t just call me “Mom.” I didn’t intend to get into it with him, but once the question passed my lips I could not stick my finger back in the dike. The damn broke and now all those feelings I’ve been trying to dispel have come rushing to the forefront. I thought maybe he was waiting until the finalization or some other line in the sand to begin calling me mom. But, when I mentioned it this morning I realized that he never plans on calling me mom. I will be my nickname for the rest of my life. A nickname I don’t even like I might add. I tried all my childhood to prevent people from using my nickname (it’s not like my name is Samantha and I’m opposed to being called Sam – my nickname isn’t even really a name). So, I really don’t want to be called by my nickname for the rest of my life. When I dropped Primero off at school I asked him to look deep inside himself to figure out why he could or would never call me mom.

I’ve held this in a long time and I was trying really hard to not let it out at all, to make it a thing, but now it is. To be quite frank, I feel like I’ve worked very hard to earn the title of mom. It’s not like I just spread my legs and popped out a baby! I’ve been through the ringer on my journey to motherhood. And I’ve had to give up on my dreams of how I wanted things to be in my life. It’s not an easy thing, let me tell you! Of course, I don’t tell this to Primero. I allude to my loss in this process and try to explain why it is important to me that he call me mom. He said to me this morning, the little ones will call me mom and that should be good enough. Ouch! He refers to me as his mom to most of his friends, but he still more often than not calls me his foster mom. In his phone I’m listed as A mom (a name I truly despise), meaning Adoptive mom. There’s always a qualifier. I don’t call him my foster son (or hardly ever unless I feel it is important for someone, like a doctor, to understand our current relationship) or my A son, I call him my son. I feel like his inability to call me mom is indicative of his feelings for me. He calls bio mom (I still haven’t come up with a name for her for the blog) “Mom” and I would never ask him to stop. He says he has two moms (which bugs me, honestly. Most biological mothers don’t have to share their children with another mother…..), but he doesn’t. He has a “Mom” and an “Ash.” I die a little inside every time he calls bio mom “Mom” and then turns around and calls me my nickname. Haven’t I proven myself as a mother? Am I lacking in some way?

I don’t get to name my children. I don’t get to revel in the miracle of pregnancy and childbirth; to feel the first kick and the pain of contractions, to watch my stomach grow and expand as my baby grows. I don’t have increment pictures of my ever-growing tummy, holding something to represent the size of my baby. I don’t get to choose my children’s prenatal care. I can’t breast feed my children. I wasn’t there when they took their first breath. For Primero and Chica Marie I didn’t watch them sit up for the first time, say their first word or take their first step. My children do not have my eyes, my smile or my thick calves. I didn’t have a baby shower, find a creative way to announce the impending arrival of my child, or reveal their gender with a cake. I have no ultra sounds, no memories of hearing the first heart-beat, and no pictures in the hospital or stamps of their tiny feet. For all these things that I’ve lost or missed out on, the one thing I thought I would have is the precious and beautiful title of MOM. And now, I need to learn to come to terms with forever being called a stupid, undesirable nickname by my first child. It just doesn’t seem fair, now does it?

I think Primero’s refusal to call me mom stems from his desire to not hurt bio mom (which, I’ve been calling her by her name lately and that is all I’m going to call her – I used to refer to her as his mom, but I’m done with that now. I’ll call her bio mom or her name) or alienate her in any way. I’m not asking him to alienate her or to stop calling her mom. But, why don’t I get the same respect? He made mention of his younger sister stating something about calling bio mom “Mom” and I guess the other piece to this is that he doesn’t want his siblings to treat him any differently and he fears they will if he calls me “Mom.” I’ve thought about reaching out to his siblings to address this, but I can’t think of a way to do it without seeming petty. I think I’m going to ask Primero to stop using my nickname. If he’s not going to call me mom, I would rather he use my full, proper name. I like it much better than my nickname. I strive to have people call me by my full name and not use my nickname and reserve that right for family or close friends. My father hardly ever uses my nickname, he knows it bugs me. My mom and sister are the biggest culprits. But, I digress. The point is, I want Primero to call me “Mom” and if that can’t happen then the least that could happen is for him to use the name I prefer over the nickname I don’t like.

Sometimes I wonder if the losses will ever stop. If there will ever come a point in time where the losses don’t mean anything anymore. Right now I’m learning to come to terms with forever being one of two moms – for having to make it a point to get to know and involve two families in my life forevermore. Because I want to do what is right for my children, I can’t just walk away from their biological families and insulate us all on our own. I can seethe on the inside at his bio mom blowing us off yet posting on Facebook how great it was to spend time with two of her other children (one being Hermano). But, I cannot speak poorly of her to him or within earshot of him (even if what I am saying is true!). And I cannot choose to just ignore her presence, like it or not she is forever a part of my life because of him. And it will be the same for Chica Marie and Love Bug as well. On the relative safety of my blog I can admit this is not something I’m excited about. It’s not something I would like to do, but I realize how important it is for my children. It’s like going to the dentist. I want a healthy smile so twice a year I drag myself, rather unwillingly, to the dentist to get my teeth cleaned and checked. I don’t like it, but I do it. And, so this is how I view creating a relationship with the families of the kids I’m adopting. I guess it might not be the best attitude to have and hopefully it will improve as I get to know the families better, but this is how things stand right now.

In so much of the adoption experience, I feel like the child and bio families feelings must be held in consideration, but the feelings of the adoptive family are lesser somehow. I guess, the adoptive family is seen as the victor and so our desires must take a backseat to those of the defeated. I try to always keep my focus on the children and do what is best for them. It’s just sometimes hard to squelch the feelings I have in order to do the things required of me. I feel like its all give, give, give and I’m not allowed to even ask to take – not a thing. He won’t have my last name, he won’t call me mom, what on earth is the purpose of this adoption, I ask? I’m hurt. I’m trying to not lash out in my pain, but I think I’m failing miserably. Never did I imagine all of these issues when I thought of adoption. I didn’t think it would be easy, but I never thought I would feel so inconsequential in the whole deal. My hopes, my dreams, my desires all seemed to stop when I “got” a child to adopt. Now, it’s back to being an unfeeling robot nanny – do things for the sake of others and forget about how you might feel about it.

I’m making too much of it all. I’ll piss and whine here and then pull up those old tired big girl panties and get on with it. I’ll get over myself, plaster that smile on my face and roll with the punches. My feelings may be irrelevant, but I still have a job to do, so I’ll put one foot in front of the other and move on.