On Sunday, as I laid at the beach during nap time, I watched this beautiful family come down to the chairs beside us. I quickly sat up and took note! A mom, a dad, and three little boys followed behind. Immediately, the mom began setting up the chair area where they were going to sit and the dad headed out to the water with his three little ducks on their boogie boards, all in matching swim shorts. I smiled at this kindred spirit and asked her how old her boys were. 10, 8, and 6. Perfect! I told her my boys were 13, 11, and 6. She asked if we had all boys. And there is where the show rolled to credits. No, we have a daughter at the end, I replied. "Oh." was the last word this mom spoke to me. She grabbed a chair and marched to the water and was gone. My soul sister search cut short. And it stung.
Later when I was telling the happenings to Dave, I was reminded that a few years ago, that was me. I was the one who was sad I didn't have a daughter. I was the one who cut completely nice people out of my life because they birthed a girl child. I have occasionally had times in my life where I was able to look into the mirror and see myself. This was one of those times. Am I ashamed I acted that way? Yes. I was at the time when it happened as well although I couldn't stop myself. Was I sad that I felt I couldn't pursue a friendship? Yes, but eventually I did become friends with women who had both genders. It was just strange to look at my life from the outside. To look at that lady's life on the outside and know that there is nothing lacking in her all boy family.
Two days later, at the pool, her 6 year old jumped in and yelled out to Liam. "Come play!" he said. And Liam did. I cautiously looked across to where the little guy's mom sat and she smiled. Apparently the day before, Dave had talked to them at the pool while Elliana and I were napping. He had told them about our lives with our boys and how we brought our daughter into it. It seemed that because we adopted, all was forgiven. I know this feeling as well.
I often wonder what people see when they look at us. Those who know our story, I'm sure they see things that are different than others who are looking at us for the first time. A dad, a mom, three boys, and a baby girl. While our family may not be perfect to some, to us, it is. I still hear people say...Oh, you're lucky that you finally got that girl! and I hear myself reply, We were lucky all four times, we have healthy, amazing children. When I hear people make boy/girl comments, I still jump in. When I hear people's wistfulness in their voices on how they don't feel like their one gender family is complete, I share our story, much as Dave did. And when I hear people celebrate their children no matter what, I celebrate too, for children are gifts from God, no matter how they come to join our families.
I will never forget the woman I was. The one with the three little boys following behind in their matching swim suits. For they are what made me a mother for the first, second, and third times. But I will also always be thankful for the frilly girly-girl that toddles behind them, for she made me a mother for the fourth and final time. And as I see glimpses of what my life was like, I'm thankful for growth. For realizing, before any of it was too late, that family and friends are the most amazing gifts of all.
And now, I'm headed to the pool to gab with a fellow all boy mom, who thinks my little girl is pretty cool too. ;)
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2 comments:
I too would have avoided any further conversation with you if that had been me. I do it all the time. I'm not proud. Even now, after following your journey, reading your book and knowing how you felt, I still think everything's alright for you and it never will be for me. I have five and I believe it's all over for me. My husband wouldn't want to adopt, actually I think we'd be considered to have too many children anyway. I feel like all the hope is gone. My dream has died. It is affecting how I mother my boys. I rarely shop for clothes or shoes for them, unless I really have to. When I do it's a chore. I get no pleasure out of it. I am completely uninterested in the things they like to watch or read. I feel sometimes like a stranger in my own home. Like an unpaid servant. I expect a lot of mothers feel like that, but I feel as if having the daughter I so badly wanted would have given me that little spark of joy I felt years ago. I am not interested in making the house pretty or homely. I never arrange pictures or trinkets or cushions in the way I used to. I have urge to decorate anything. What's the point? I was supposed to have a little girl who's room I could enjoy unleashing my creativity on. My husband isn't remotely interested in what the house looks like, other than whether it is reasonably clean and tidy. We won't have any more children now and the way I am feeling I think I will forever cut short conversations with new mothers of girls that i meet. They just remind me of how incomplete I feel..
Im so sorry, Danielle. :( When I was at that place in my life, I did those things for ME. I bought pink for me. Jewelry for me. Pretty clothes for me. Things for the house that I wanted. Sending you big hugs!!
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