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We’re currently on vacation at the beach. By we, of course, I am meaning my husband and two parented sons. My parents, brother and sister-in-law are also down here, making for a great time. Late this afternoon, we are having our pictures taken on the beach. As an immediate family, we get our picture taken once a year. It’s easier that way when small children are involved. It’s about all I can handle! I’m excited to have them taken on the beach this year. I hope at least one turns out semi-decent.
Picture day, stressful in its own hectic way, also leaves me feeling a sadness. As a birth mother, there is always a child missing from my family portrait. She’s here, in my heart, but she’s not standing there, wiggling around with her brothers asking if we can go get some ice cream now, the ultimate bargaining tool for family picture taking. I do smile. I am genuinely happy to be with my family, minus the fact that getting portraits taken is similar to having teeth pulled out of my head.
But the loss is there in my head, in my heart.
These are the realities of adoption that no counselor told me. These are the realities of adoption that even those who think they are being counseled well are not told. The grief and loss associated with relinquishment find ways to seep into your daily life. I am affected in ways that I never thought to consider. My family is affected in ways that I never remotely considered. Someone is always missing.
We’re wearing green today. It’s my favorite color. I originally based the entire portrait on a green dress I purchased on clearance. Then the shirts I ordered for my husband and boys arrived and they didn’t match my dress. So, I ordered a shirt for myself, pairing it with some khakis. But no little green shirt, skirt or dress with frills. Nothing remotely girly in a smaller size. Sometimes that gets to me.
Later today, I won’t have a lot of time to think about any of this. I’ll be busy wrangling my boys, bribing them to stare at the camera and say, “Construction Cheese!” (I don’t know why. Don’t ask.) I’ll be concerned about whether I should wear my own hair curly or attempt to straighten it in this crazy humidity. I’ll be busy with all of the ins and outs of family portrait day. And still later, as the day winds down, it will hit me. When I view the proofs in the near future, I’ll see a spot where she should have stood. I’ll grieve that loss while simultaneously (hopefully) being pleased with the results of the photo. It’s a weird place to be, somewhere between happy and sad.
Somewhere called reality.
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Photo Credit.
That must have been a hard day, I can understand. I spent Saturday with my oldest son, and without my youngest (he was adopted) there was a bittersweet happiness.
You are amazing, if you don’t mind me saying so.