Today is my son’s birthday. My only son and my youngest child. Twelve years ago, at this time, 10am, I was just starting labor and he wouldn’t come for several hours. My ob/gyn was a doctor who was originally from Ghana.
This was Joshua’s birthday and the details are things that I know. Things that I can share with him.
I never knew any of these things and I never will. I don’t know what time I was born. I don’t know who my doctor was. I don’t know how long my mother was in labor. Things that people take for granted in their life, I don’t know.
It’s just that way for us adoptees. Birthdays are so complicated because they bring up so many complex emotions. The day of our birth, which is usually a day of great celebration, is instead a day of mourning and remembering our rejection.
I swore my kids would never feel the same way I felt about their birthday. I always tried to make them feel special in my own way.
But today I am not with my son for his birthday and there’s nothing that can take the pain that I feel from not being there with him today.
He’s becoming a young man and he needs his mother to be there with him. I have made very deliberate parenting decisions based on how I felt as an adoptee. And I need to refocus and remember why I made the sacrafices in the life that I have.
It’s always been for them and it always will be.
I won’t spend another one of their birthdays away from any of them.