Goodbyes.
One of my kids greatly struggles with them. I wonder if this is due to adoption and
having to say goodbye soon after leaving birth mom’s body, the place where she
was comfortable and safe for nine months. And then saying goodbye to birth
family members after a visit or a phone call, not knowing with the limited understanding of a
child if “hello” (or when “hello”) will happen again, despite my reassurances
and promises. No matter how much stability and security and consistency we,
her family, provide, there’s the memory of a heartbreaking, life-changing
goodbye.
Or if it’s because, like me, my child possess the
quality of strength, which often comes with being guarded and self-protecting
in order to endure. Goodbyes mean
saying “no” and “yes.” Yes to letting
the person go. No to another moment with
them to laugh or chat or play.
Or maybe it’s that goodbyes are endings. Endings are scary.
When I was a teenager, I came across a poem by
Veronica A. Shoffstall in one of the infamous Chicken Soup anthologies from the
nineties. It became my teenage angst anthem,
but as I got older, it took on new meanings, more depth, and rang more
truth. This is called “After A While”:
After a while you
learn
the subtle difference between
holding a hand and chaining a soul
and you learn
that love doesn’t mean leaning
and company doesn’t always mean security.
And you begin to learn
that kisses aren’t contracts
and presents aren’t promises
and you begin to accept your defeats
with your head up and your eyes ahead
with the grace of woman, not the grief of a child
and you learn
to build all your roads on today
because tomorrow’s ground is
too uncertain for plans
and futures have a way of falling down
in mid-flight.
After a while you learn
that even sunshine burns
if you get too much
so you plant your own garden
and decorate your own soul
instead of waiting for someone
to bring you flowers.
And you learn that you really can endure
you really are strong
you really do have worth
and you learn
and you learn
with every goodbye, you learn…
the subtle difference between
holding a hand and chaining a soul
and you learn
that love doesn’t mean leaning
and company doesn’t always mean security.
And you begin to learn
that kisses aren’t contracts
and presents aren’t promises
and you begin to accept your defeats
with your head up and your eyes ahead
with the grace of woman, not the grief of a child
and you learn
to build all your roads on today
because tomorrow’s ground is
too uncertain for plans
and futures have a way of falling down
in mid-flight.
After a while you learn
that even sunshine burns
if you get too much
so you plant your own garden
and decorate your own soul
instead of waiting for someone
to bring you flowers.
And you learn that you really can endure
you really are strong
you really do have worth
and you learn
and you learn
with every goodbye, you learn…
I was reminded of this poem recently when I found myself
caught in a storm of colliding feelings and thoughts, all adoption related.
Recent issues and incidences reminded me of
similarly desperate, angry, confusing, and painful times from the past.
The time we had a sweet boy in our care for
three weeks. He and my oldest child became artificial twins. He
was the sweetest child: smart, craving affection and praise. Cuddling him, nourishing him with healthy foods, and watching him explore the park...all beautiful, vivid memories. I would have kept him forever, but he was not
ours. When the social worker left with
him, a piece of my heart left too.
and you learn
to build all your roads on today
because tomorrow’s ground is
too uncertain for plans
and futures have a way of falling down
in mid-flight.
to build all your roads on today
because tomorrow’s ground is
too uncertain for plans
and futures have a way of falling down
in mid-flight.
There were the times our profile book was shown and
the answer was “no” or even sometimes “yes,” but the yes didn’t come to
fruition. I prayed fervently for those
babies and their mothers while feeling the weight of my own desires to become a mother.
and you begin to accept your defeats
with your head up and your eyes ahead
with the grace of woman, not the grief of a child
with your head up and your eyes ahead
with the grace of woman, not the grief of a child
The times I walked into a courtroom to listen to a
judge award me an official stamp of motherhood while a birth parent was exiting the building,
stripped of her title.
After a while you learn
the subtle difference between
holding a hand and chaining a soul
the subtle difference between
holding a hand and chaining a soul
I recall having to explain to one of my children why seeing birth family wasn't an option and feeling my heart burn
with anger and sadness. The
inequalities, the injustices. It’s NOT
fair, I screamed to no one. Have mercy
on my daughter’s tender spirit, I mentally begged the person who withheld due
to personal pain and lack of understanding and life's messiness.
After a while you learn
that even sunshine burns
if you get too much
that even sunshine burns
if you get too much
Adoption is never easy. I have long described it as bittersweet and
complicated. There are moments of extreme joy and there are as debilitating,
soul-shaking lows. Most of the time, we just simmer in normalcy. But that can
change in an instant. It does change in an instant. It will change in an instant.
Lately I’ve had some awful thoughts and conflicting
emotions, some warranted, some not. I’ve run through dozens
of scenarios, possibilities, regrets. My imagination, as a writer, can run wild. My
husband is the practical one, keeping me grounded. As I grapple with loyalty, betrayal, confusion, anger, and grief, I rely on what I know to be true.
I'm reminding myself of who I am and of my foundation. I'm reminding myself that I'm human and humanity involves complexity. I can't be Miss-Positive-Adoption-Educator-and-Parent-and-Proponent-and-Bestower-of-Ethics-and-Grace-and-Compassion-and-Understanding at all times. That's ok. I give myself permission to "go there" but not stay there. Some self-nurturing and self-indulgence is sometimes necessary for healing.
so you plant your own garden
and decorate your own soul
instead of waiting for someone
to bring you flowers.
and decorate your own soul
instead of waiting for someone
to bring you flowers.
So tonight as I write this, I want you to know something.
Sugars: Today may be bleak. You may be struggling, aching, grimacing, faking, regretting, reflecting. But as Shoffstall taught me years ago, and is still teaching me now:
And you learn that you really can endure
you really are strong
you really do have worth
and you learn
and you learn
with every goodbye, you learn…
you really are strong
you really do have worth
and you learn
and you learn
with every goodbye, you learn…
Goodbyes are often not easy, comfortable, comforting, or assuring. They can be incredibly difficult. But they are necessary.
Whatever goodbye you are facing today, I pray that you are able to anticipate a "hello."
Sleep well, Sugars. Tomorrow might just be your day.
I LOVE this, Rachel! Goodbyes ARE hard, all the more reason to embrace and recognize the "hellos". I would not have made it through my first years out of college without my lil cross-stitch that read, "When God closes a door, he opens a window."
ReplyDeleteThanks Rachel - loved the part about not being Miss Positive Adoption, Loved all of it. Shared with one of our families who is struggling right now with whether they are the right family for the little girlsthey have been fostering.
ReplyDeleteI STILL love this post. One of my favs of yours. xo
ReplyDeleteWe often comment on Buddy's strength, and you are probably right that it comes from years of self-protection. Love that insight.Thanks for sharing the poem, I've never read it before. It is beautiful and true.
ReplyDeleteSuch beautiful words. One of our little ones has some anxieties that I think are probably adoption related, too. Like Madeline said, the goodbyes we have to face really make us appreciate the hellos and the connections we have in the now.
ReplyDeleteOh my gosh! I was a total Chicken Soup reader and this sounded familiar. I must have read it too. I could relate to so much of this post. Each part I was like "Yep, I know that one. Yep" Sometimes it's really tough.
ReplyDelete