Pact, An Adoption Alliance - Personal Profiles

Personal Profiles

My Two Sons
by Marta Barton

The door closed and there I stood, my back against the door, tears flowing down my face like acid, melting my body. I fell to the floor. My body was so weak I felt as if I would never again be able to rise to my feet....

This was the night I said good-bye to my son. His adoptive parents had brought him over so that I could see him before I returned to Los Angeles. The visit was difficult and awkward. We ate dinner and talked a lot. We got to know each other a little better. My body was in the room, but my mind was somewhere else. I held my tiny baby in my arms. He seemed like such a stranger, an unfamiliar face I had never seen before. I had carried him in my body for nine long months. Why didn't I feel like I knew him? I thought I must be crazy. This was my child, my flesh and blood, I should have been feeling differently. I wondered if this was normal. Was I an awful person for not feeling comfortable with my own child?

During the nine months of pregnancy, I had tried not to think about the little person inside of me. It was the only way to get through those long days. I did not want to become attached to him. I thought it would make the adoption easier.

Five years later, I visit with my son, Adam, on a regular basis and I am parenting my 15-month-old, Malik. Now that I am parenting a child, I realize how much of Adam's life I have missed. I have missed feeding him, comforting him, holding and cuddling him, touching him, soothing his cries, all of the things that a mother shares with her child. The very things that make attachment possible.

During my pregnancy with Malik, I spoke to him daily. I shared my feelings with him, my hopes, dreams and fears. When he was born, I felt all of those things I never had a chance to experience with Adam. It was impossible not to think about Adam as I nursed. I fought with the feelings of remorse over Adam's placement. How could I have given up the wonderful experience of breastfeeding my child? When I gave Malik his first bath, I thought of a photo of Adam having a bath, soap bubbles on his head and a smile on his face. Whenever Malik had a "first," I would think of Adam and wonder what his "first" had been like.

Although I did not share with Adam many of the early attachment rituals that I shared with Malik, we have developed alternative ways of connecting. On occasion, I was invited to "baby-sit" Adam while his parents were gone. This gave us a chance to share fun games, silly stories and a few curious questions. Recently, we went on an excursion to a local pizzeria, just the two of us. For such a small excursion, it meant a lot to me. It was another chance for Adam and me to become more comfortable with each other. Another chance to share quality time together.

Adam is only five years old, but I think he also knows that there is special importance in our attachment to one another. Whenever Adam and I are together, I find myself looking for things we have in common: small mannerisms, expressions, likes or dislikes. Even though Adam and I have never lived together as mother and son, we will always share the common bond of our genes. When he is older, I hope he will appreciate the connections we have.