The inscription on her tombstone reads "Beloved wife, loving mother, and caring friend." I am pleased because I think it includes me as well as "our" son, his father, and his brother. She would have been my caring friend. Her happiness would have brought me smiles.
I realize that whether we like it or not, my son and I are connected, but so am I connected to his parents -- and they to me. I am part of their lives and they are part of mine. To think otherwise is shallowness. To never speak, to never know each other is a painful, needless loss of never knowing these kinfolk to whom you are related. There is a place for all of us. There has to be.
We can pretend we are not connected, but in fact when parents adopt a child they are also connected to the birthparents. When birthparents place a child for adoption they are connected to the adoptive parents as well. This is what is real.
I was told I would forget, they were told to continue as if born unto. I don't want to disappear. I want to claim my place and be recognized for it. It is an important place in our son's life. I've considered giving it up and decided I will not -- cannot -- do it. I don't want more than my place. I am not his parent. I am his birthparent. We are all connected and will be forever.
Are we needy as some would claim? I think not. We are related to one another. The arrogance of those who knew all the answers, the naiveté of my young self who believed. I vow to teach my children.