Chapter 29

It was a girl date like any other. Pam was now happily married and some more time had passed since we last got together. I cannot remember who initiated it, but I recall how it progressed. We were going to catch up; with three children in school and only Naomi at home I was much more flexible in my schedule – I could find someone to watch Naomi and we could meet up anytime! In a text, Pam suggested we meet during the day, and that I could bring Naomi down if I needed to. 

Bring Naomi down, with me, to see Pam? My mind started racing. Did she want me to bring Naomi down? Until this point in time, meeting with Naomi was not an option, per Pam’s decision. The last time she had spent time with Naomi was when she was only four weeks old, when I feared she might take her, and now she was ready to see her again? “Do you want me to bring Naomi down?” I texted back. “That would be nice,” was her reply. Okay then.

We slowly worked out the details: we would meet at her place and walk to a nearby park. Cassandra would be home from school, and Patti wanted to join us as well. I understood the significance of this step for Pam; this was the next step in her emotional healing, to be able to see Naomi and spend time with her. It was also going to be wonderful for Cassandra and Patti to see her again, to experience Naomi’s budding personality and get to know her as a little person. I knew this would be important for Naomi someday, that her birth family wanted to spend time with her. Our time together would be so helpful for so many – but I was still a bit reserved.

This was a scary thought for me. All of my fears and uncertainty resurfaced. How would Naomi react to them? They had not been in the picture at all, so this would be the next step in Naomi’s developing awareness of them. Would she like them more than she liked me? Then there was the fear of flight – would Pam try to take her from me? It was three against one, and they would easily be able to overpower me. While I was pretty secure in the stability of where Pam was and how she was in a healthy place, I could not easily dismiss my fear of the situation. Paul expressed similar concern.

He insisted that I call and keep him abreast of the situation. I was scheduled to get down there at 10:00am and was not sure how long I would be staying (maybe three hours). When we arrived, Art was still at home and able to greet us. He welcomed us and even purchased a gift for Naomi, a pink-plush baby doll. Naomi sensed the tension in the room, weighted under the adoring glances, and would not venture out of my arms. As Art left for work, we followed his lead and took a stroll to the park. 

Here, Naomi slowly relaxed as she scaled the stairs and traversed the slides. As only a true three-year-old can do, she worked the masses with her smile and quick wit. Cassandra followed her around, helping her through the more treacherous areas, and Patti was quick to snap some pictures. 

I want you to know that all was not well with my soul. This was not an easy adventure to take part in. It was awkward, threatening, and I was quick to judge (although I kept it all carefully concealed); there was a war going on inside of me. 

I did not like the fact that they were taking pictures without my permission, that I had no control. I did not like that they had their own opinions of what Naomi should and should not be doing, and that I had to worry I might be letting her do the “wrong” thing. I felt the pressure of having to be the “perfect” mom for the afternoon and secretly hoped Naomi would obey so that I would not have to correct her behavior. I did not do this because it was easy, I did it because I felt it was necessary for all involved. I wanted to establish a healthy open-adoption relationship, even if it killed me – because I loved my daughter.

I was a bit concerned about how myself and my daughter would react and respond afterward but there was nothing negative about the visit. Renee’s daughter and my daughter hit it off immediately. They were fast friends and in no time were holding hands and squealing down the slides. I may have not gotten the miracle I was initially praying for but I got a miracle nonetheless: I have a precious lifelong bond and friendship with Renee as well as the knowing that the daughter I birthed is exactly where she’s supposed to be. 

After our time together, we headed back to Pam’s place. It was in the quietness of her apartment that I was able to hear my phone vibrate: one of six texts from Paul had just come through. Without thinking, I exclaimed my surprise at his persistence. Pam joked back that I should let him know that she did not smash my head in and run off with Naomi. There, she said it. With a quick wit and helpful humor, Pam voiced our fear. It helped to laugh about it with Paul over the phone, and I let him know we would be headed home shortly.

Before we said our goodbyes, I offered to take a picture of Naomi, Cassandra, and Pam together. So there I stood, on the other side of a lens once again, seeing what life might have been had Pam not chosen adoption. I would not have even been in the picture. 

As I stare into those dark-brown, espresso eyes I cannot help being swallowed in. The anticipated joy of what might be fuels her for the road ahead. She is not held back by fear or uncertainty, but runs with reckless abandon, passionate for all life has in store. She gives her all, in love and learning, hopeful of what might come from all of it. 

This is the genesis of dreams, of possibility. I naively stepped into this open-adoption journey eleven years ago, spurred by selfish intent, and as it turns out, I am the better for it. I have learned that I cannot claim ownership or sole rights as Naomi’s mother. The art of raising a child is indeed a collective effort. I am thankful for the part I get to play in her journey, the influence I have over her every day. I have learned that I cannot hold tight to this position, but rather guide her with an open palm. I have learned that family does not begin and end at genetic ties, it reaches to the ends of the earth, as far as our arms spread, as strong as our fingers can grasp…and then let go.