Boy, I sure am prolific this week!
Before I started blogging-- long before-- I started reading through some blogs. I wasn't religious to many of them. What can I say? I'm a picky reader. But one blog just really spoke to me. It was written by a woman named Elizabeth whose daughter Macy was born in China. Macy is almost a year younger than our son Casey, and a lot of what Elizabether wrote about were things I had either experienced already or was going through at the same time. For some reason (and I think in large part because the blog is so well-written), this blog just spoke to me. So I read it. Religously. When a week passes that Elizabeth doesn't post, I wonder what has kept her away from the computer-- I need my MacyDay fix!
Anyway, today's post on MacyDay is amazing. You can read it below It's called Three Years Ago Today, and it's about Macy's birth-- and her birthmother in China. I've written before about how much we love and appreciate Casey's birth family-- how grateful we are to his birthmother. How difficult it was to watch her say good-bye to Casey when we'd visit. Not because she wasn't happy for Casey. She was. But because she was experiencing a loss, too. We won't get to know Marcie's birthmother. We won't be able to thank her, to share photos of her, to explain how much we love her and how happy and healthy she is. She is somewhere halfway around the world from us, and she will probably spend the rest of her life thinking about this daughter she gave birth to, wondering. Likewise, we are left to wonder. But we know how the story ends because we are living it. . . here, with Marcie (and by the way, Marcie's name similarity to Macy is pure coincidence, in case you are wondering!).
Sometimes people tell us how lucky Marcie is to have come to America to live with us. I think there is probably some truth to that. I'd like to think so. But deep down, I know we're the lucky ones. To know Marcie. To hold her. To be able to express our love for her. And whatever people think of the situation in China, or the painful decision Marcie's birthmother made, I am so grateful to her for this wonderful, precious gift-- because with her loss comes my gain, and even though I've only known Marcie for a couple short months, I already can't remember life without her-- before her. And that makes me the lucky one. I am not expressing it as well as Elizabeth did, though-- so go on and read!
The information below is re-printed with permission from the author, Elizabeth, who has since removed the post from her blog (and removed her blog completely):
Thursday, November 02, 2006
Three Years Ago Today
Three years ago today, somewhere near Suixi China, my daughter was being born. I picture her birth mother as a young, strikingly beautiful woman who was scared, no terrified, as she pushed my daughter out of her body. Frightened at the birthing process and trembling anxiously to see if she had a son or a daughter. I imagine she was not in a hospital for the birth, but in her home or her parents home. I think of the moment of relief she must have felt with her final push and when she heard my daughter make her first wailing announcement to the world. Then the gut wrenching realization as she stared down at her baby that their time together was to be fleeting. That because she was a girl she would be an orphan. She must have swelled with love and utter sadness when she looked at the perfect little baby she made. She checked her fingers and toes, as I did in the Civil Affairs Office. She held her close and smelled her head like I did when I first held my baby in my arms.
My daughter's birth mother kept her for three days before she left her at the gate of a health center. Or maybe it was her father or grandparents who took her from her mother's arms. How did the person feel as they took her and left her, at night, alone and only three days old. Was she covered in blankets that got lost in the moving she did those first few days- from the health center to a police station and finally to the orphanage? What was she wearing? Was it something that her mother lovingly sewed for her as she awaited her birth? Was it a boys outfit? Did they leave a note with her or some trinket to show she was loved? Her birth mother must have nursed her for those three days. Listened to her cries and bonded with her. I think she kept her baby until she felt she was strong enough to survive. When my daughter was found after having spent the night alone in a box at the health centers gate, she was a little under 5 pounds. The finding ad photos I have show a tiny premature baby whose eyes look like those of a fetal kitten. She is in distress in the photo. Not crying, but alone and longing. It's easy to read the confusion.
Tonight when I put my daughter to bed I talked to her about her birth mother. I said to her, " Let's say a prayer and a hello to your China Mommy". She beamed a huge smile and said to me, " Oh my China mommy! China mommy, it's OK". I had a difficult time not bursting into tears. I then said, " China mommy, We want you to know that your baby is very happy, healthy and loved unconditionally by many people now. I couldn't love her any more than I do and I wish you could see how beautiful and happy she is and how good her life is". My daughter looked at me and said, "I love you mommy. My mommy". Then she held my hand and buried her face in my chest. I love her so much and hurt so deeply for what she went through that it chokes me. I know she'll grieve someday for the mother she had in China and that there will be nothing I can do to help her but love her.
I wish I could tell the woman who gave birth to my daughter how much I love her and that she is safe, healthy, beautiful and living a life that few people in China could ever hope to lead. Maybe that would comfort her. I don't know. I want to tell her how much I love the baby she gave birth to and that I love her as well. She gave birth to my daughter. She is someone I will most likely never meet and yet she changed my life forever. Not only did she give my daughter life, she gave me life as well. A life worth living.