By: Henry Amador
Another Mother’s Day is right around the corner.
Our fourth since our son was born.
As any writer will tell you, especially a gay dad writer, this day gives birth (pun intended) to many articles about how our types of families handle this yearly event.
And let me tell you, that there are countless scenarios playing out all over this great big world of ours, this is just humbly.. mine.
Our son came to us via a closed adoption.
Our son’s birth-mother has no contact except for a yearly school picture that we send her and the occasional letter that she writes to him.
All neatly and safely confined within the 3″ x 5 1/2″ x 14 3/4″ PO box that we agreed to provide her with.
We feel good about that, it works for us, for now.
Each year we add her little hand drawn notes that she sends him to a file folder that contains everything we know about her.
I do not know what the future holds for our boy in regards to his birth-mother.
I have no way of knowing what he will face at the end of that journey when, and if, he chooses to travel it.
Will she be a healthy and happy person?
Will she meet his expectations?
Will she add to his adult life or cause a tear in his heart?
Honestly I wonder if she will even still be on this Earth when he reaches out?
I can’t answer those questions, although with every protective bone in my body I wish that I could.
When I “found” my father later in life I had luckily formed a strong and comfortable relationship with myself, one that allowed me to accept whatever I found without damaging my own identity.
I pray that our son will be able to be as prepared for his discoveries as I was.
I was not adopted but my father left us when I was one year old.
I would not see him or hear his voice for 24 years.
Those years were full of wonder, not always, not constantly, but at times.
The heights were full of questions about him,
full of creative speculation,
The down times were still and void of him.
I was busy having a beautiful childhood and safe in the arms of my protectors, my loved ones, my family.
I hope that we have the insight to guide him over those dangerous peaks and hold him lovingly and completely during the quiet and still moments.
Yesterday we went to story time at our local library.
I should have realized what the theme would be but It just never crossed my mind.
For a moment I questioned staying, my boy is already playing with the word mommy as most three year olds do.
We have all the discussions about family types.
He knows that he has two daddies,
that Maddie has two mommies,
that Felix has one mommy and no daddy and so on and so forth.
Did I want to sit through 3 stories about families that did not in any way shape or form reflect ours?
Honestly the answer was no,
but did I want to run away from that fact either?
We sat and listen to a story about Clifford’s Mommy,
and a baby bird looking for his,
and yet another about a mommies love and cuddles and hugs.
All the while my son laughed and listened along as he sat comfortably in my lap and reached back and stroked my beard, he loves to do that.
When story time was over we made sweet little hand prints on a pre-printed poem as a gift for mommy.
He carried his little work of art out with joy and pride and told me exactly where at home I had to place it.
He never once asked about mommies,
he did however ask all day when his papa was coming home so he could show him his hand print.
I just heard someone say that they tell their adopted child that she has a birth-mother but not a mommy and that made some sense to me, perhaps we will use that explanation one day, who knows.
We are still a work in progress.
I’m guessing that how we continue to handle that one day in May is just the beginning of how we help him get over the hurdles I was referring to right?
I’m also guessing that our local library may need to update their collection for Mother’s Day, I may just send them a little story about Heather and her two moms.
Photo Credit: Dawn Huczek
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Originally published on The Seattle Lesbian
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