“Feliz Cumpleaños, P” (Celebrating the Birth Mom’s Birthday)

July 29th is the twins’ birth mom’s birthday.  I don’t know her, never got to meet her, only have two pictures of her – one with each twin at their DNA tests during the adoption process.  But I do know her birthdate, the town in which she was born, and the reasons she gave for placing the twins with us.  I’m happy to answer the boys’ questions any time, of course, but it occurred to me last year that if I set up a time to celebrate her, it communicates to them that they are free to ask and wonder and want to see her again.

And so in our household, we celebrate P’s birthday.

The idea came to me last year on her birthday, so we had popsicles on the deck, talked about her a little bit, and prayed that God is taking care of her there in Guatemala, even though we don’t know exactly where she is or what she’s doing.

I was a little more proactive this year.  So this morning the twins and I headed out to Panera for a date.  I had emailed myself the pictures of her with them, so we looked at those on my iPhone, noted facial features they have that look like hers (something they’d never noticed before), and again prayed for her.  This time, the boys prayed, too.  And they included “and help us go find her at Guatemala” in their prayers.

I’m so glad we’re doing this now, when they’re five, super-attached to us, and happy with the life they have. 

Because I did have to correct Bear in the car when he was explaining to José that we were going on a date to celebrate their “real mother’s” birthday.  He didn’t mean anything by it, but today was  the day for our conversation about how I’m also very much real, that she’s real, too, and that they just happen to have two real mothers when many people have one.  And then we talked about all the friends and family we have – not the least of whom is their Tío Steven - who were also adopted and therefore also have two real mothers.

It was the first time I’d had to correct one of them.  We’ve had plenty of other people ask about their “real…ummm, errr…mother” [we fill in "birth" or "biological " to help them out].  But this time it was my son.  Who says my name, “Mama,” so many times during the day it’s mind-numbing.  And he remembers he has another mother who’s “real.”  It’s good for me to digest that while they’re “still little” in my mind.  They understand a whole lot more than I realize.

I left out her name in the title of this post, and for now I will leave off including her picture on this blog.  As much as I feel like she’s my family because she’s my son’s birth mom, she’s more theirs.  And I want them to be able to keep her to themselves if they want to, share her with others only when they want to, and to have control over that part of their story.  For nearly two years of their life, it was she with them doing life together.  The hard newborn time, the first steps, first words, baby teeth, personalities emerging.

And yet today, I got to be the one sharing cinnamon rolls and an “everything” bagel with my little men.  Who don’t look much like me, but sure do act like me.