I've still got some blogs and e-mails coming in regarding my request for a discussion on regret. The thread on the forums is also continuing to bring in some great responses. With that, I will bring them all together for a meeting of the minds, as it were, on birth parent regret. Today? I'll talk about me, my journey through the muck of realization and regret and where it leaves me today. I know I don't often get overly personal on this blog but this is one of those times that I think my personal experience might help some others understand what we're talking about in today's chapter review.

I didn't always feel regret. Some would argue that means that I'm only making up the regret now in order to garner sympathy or support. Gritter would argue that they were wrong in their assumptions, that regret can evolve over time because of circumstances, situations or further reflection. And so, in that first year after I placed the Munchkin for adoption, regret was not a part of my vocabulary. It wasn't something that I thought I would feel. I know that I went as far as to argue with other mothers who had placed in the years before me. I feel embarrassed by that fact now, something that I've apologized to a few here and there for my stubborn inability to look beyond the immediate situation or to consider their experience as legitimate.

Truth be told, I was pretty mean to some other mothers who spoke up about birth parent regret. I was one of those that was afraid of the word, viewing it is wholly negative. I refused to entertain the thought that something as "positive" as the placement of my child with an amazing family could ever cause me moments of doubt, regret, pain, grief or loss. Yes, that first year was spent mostly in the throes of denial. I do believe it's what I needed to tell myself, at the time, in order to get by. In fact, I'm pretty sure that I believe most of the rhetoric that I was spewing forth, mostly given to me by the unethical agency and other people who didn't want to or couldn't understand the emotional plight of the birth parent in adoption. Even now, however, I regret the words I chose to use with some other mothers during that time.

I believe, at one point, I said that regret was "useless and brought about nothing but hate" and that these mothers were wasting "their time and mine in trying to get me to regret something that I would never regret." Not only did I dismiss and diminish their experiences, their emotions but I made myself to look like a know-it-all who has now had to eat crow. Well, we all eat a little crow in our lives so, I don't suppose I should be too embarrassed. But I do continue to offer my apologies.

So when did the regret set in? Right about the time that the denial started to wear off.

The Munchkin turned one. I was supremely caught off guard by how much that one day threw me for a loop. (Gritter would call this "the regret of the astonished griever.") I was just flabbergasted. The events of the first birthday party were hard for me to be involved in, as more than an onlooker but nothing more than a "birth mother." I do believe, minus the physical separation of placement day and some other sadness, that this was my first in-your-face experience with true, full-out grief. I wanted to be the one smiling in the pictures with the Munchkin. I wanted to be the one who helped her open the presents. My heart was full of these "I wants" and "What ifs" and it was just very overwhelming at the time. Regret started to seep in at this time.

As the denial started to wear off and that first year came to a close, something else happened: real relationship issues. Prior to the end of that year, we had no major confrontations or issues within our relationship between adoptive and birth parents. Shortly after the start of that second year, we had an issue. And it was a big one. And I failed at handling it as appropriately as I could have done. Thankfully, our relationship was strong enough that apologies were given and accepted and we learned from our mistakes. But it was that experience that further opened my eyes to some of the regret that I had regarding the adoption. Not the issue itself, mind you, but the fact that this relationship was going to require a lot of hard work, open and honest communication and some sacrifice as well. As I learned to make these concessions, I further learned what it was like to be a birth parent instead of an everyday parent. It was during this time, during that year, that I had my first twinges of jealousy, most memorably over listening to the Munchkin refer to D as "Mom." While I've since found my peace with that, as that's what she is, learning to step back into the role of mere birth parent spawned a set of regret issues that I wasn't aware would be present in my life. I wanted to kiss boo-boos. I wanted to do her hair. I wanted to hear that "M" word.

Then my world got tossed upside down. As my Husband and I decided to try to bring a child into our family and then successfully conceived, I was in no way prepared for how it would make me feel when I was holding my son and parenting him with ease. (Gritter would label this as "the regret of the after-the-fact flourisher.) I was so overcome with guilt and anger at myself for not realizing certain things about parenting in general or the character I possessed within myself to become a parent. Things such as the fact that children don't need "stuff" and how easy it was for me to do certain parenting tasks threw me for a loop. Every time Nicholas hit a new milestone, my heart would simultaneously break because I was learning, first hand, what I had missed with my precious daughter. Regret soon consumed me. I was beginning to find it hard to function outside of my duties to my newborn son. My Husband had noticed a different in how I acted and reacted to certain things. I was overwhelmed. I had some minor issues with J & D during this time which I can attribute to my complete inability to function in general. (Of note, my anxiety disorder only further exacerbated these problems.)

And so, I sought out counseling. I've spoken, quite frequently, about my therapist and how she's been a godsend in my life. It is with her help that I realized that regret (and anger) were not to be feared, hidden or ignored. They weren't totally negative feelings; how we responded to them could dictate how we felt about these issues. With her help, I was finally able to verbally address my regret. I had been keeping it to myself, appalled that I could feel such a thing. It was confusing to me, really, how I could love my daughter and her family so much but be filled with so much regret! (Gritter explains this in the chapter quite wonderfully when he discusses ambivalence and regret!) With her help, I was able to understand and separate the issues. It was not J or D that I regretted; they were amazing parents and did no coerce me in any way to place my child with their family. However, it was the conditions that lead up to the need to place (remember when Gritter talked about necessity?), the dealings with the highly unethical agency (as Gritter would say, "the regret of the naive"), and all of the loss that I experienced because of the placement (milestones, that parenting role in itself, etc) were at the core of my regret.

For me, it's been hard to sometimes discuss it, even though I'm learning to identify it in different, non-adoption areas of my life as well. Discussing the topic with J & D in hopes that they would understand that they were not at the core of my regret, nor should they fear it was, well, somewhat fear-inducing. Thankfully, they do understand the separation.

My questions now, of course, revolve around whether or not the Munchkin will understand this regret (in age appropriate ways as she grows). I don't want her to take it upon herself, accept responsibility for something that she had nothing to do with creating. Or resenting her family for my pain. My therapist recently told me that with my honest and age appropriate discussion, she should be able to understand that I don't regret her existence or her family but the fact that I wasn't who I needed to be when I needed to be that person (because of various factors). Not that we plan on having this discussion with her tomorrow, of course. We're not silly.

And so, after all of these words, what do I regret? In short detail? I regret that certain things during my pregnancy lead to an adoption decision at all. (Necessity, lack of support, miscommunication.) I regret that I didn't contact more than one agency, believing their lies and propaganda that they were looking out for my best interest. (Naivety.) I regret everything that I'm missing with my daughter as a result of the loss of the role of "everyday parent." I regret that I didn't have the knowledge of what parenting truly entailed to know that I would have been a prime candidate for parenting my own child.

And what do I do with it all?

I use it to make me be the best mother, birth and everyday, to all of my children. I don't take them for granted. I don't want to waste a moment. I want them to know my love, however it is available to them. And, beyond that, I use it to let others know about the issues that surround first parents. I use some of that energy, created by regret, to speak out on topics important to birth families in different ways.

Doesn't sound like my regret is overly negative at all now, does it?

Tomorrow afternoon, I'll link and quote some other birth parents who have taken the time to discuss this topic over the holiday weekend. While we all differ in experience, we've got some important things to share with the public on this issue. I look forward to sharing a lot of what they have to say as I feel it's vitally important to understanding birth parent regret.

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For more on regret, read:

1. Lifegivers: The First Half of Chapter Eight.

2. Let's Discuss Regret this Weekend.

3. Parenting After Placement: Dealing with New Emotions Parts One and Two.

4. Or join in the forum discussion: Birth Parent Regret.

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Japanese kanji symbol for Regret found on About.com.