You held a rock up to your ear tonight, 2 miles down the dirt road at the lake house and put your finger up, signaling me to be quiet while you talked to the person on the other end of the phone. I paused, waiting to hear who you were talking to and when I finally did you told me that you were talking to your mother.
I hope that, when you read this later you can understand a little bit how my heart hurt when you said this. You looked up to me, with your tiny voice and sweet face and told me that your mother was "nice now." That she was "ready to take care of you." And my heart hurt so much worse after you said this.
I sat down on the porch floor and you told me that Ariel the mermaid was calling for me and handed me my own rock phone and you walked away.
Later while brushing our teeth you told me to get out of your space and that you didn't want to sit on my lap. When your brother took advantage of the chance to sit on my lap he did. You quickly tried to push him out of the way and I explained to you that you had asked for space and that your brother could sit on my lap too. You cried. Your brother lost interest and slid down off my legs and I lifted you up as soon as I could and asked you what you were so sad about.
You wanted to know why you your mother wasn't better yet. Looking at your sweet 4 year old face I knew all the words that were so easy to say weren't because they were too hard for you, too punishing and I had to think of a better way to tell you. It was hard. It was so hard. You cried so much, I felt so bad. I would feel worse not telling you the truth though.
"No matter how nice she is, or how much better she is she can never take care of you again."
"Why?" you are sobbing. I am trying not to sob, I am trying every day not to be so so insanely angry for you.
"Because the social workers, the police officers and the judges all say that she cant take care of you. Im sorry baby, Im so sorry. I cant do anything about her, the only thing I can do what the social workers, the police officers and the judges told me to do and that is to take care of you."
"I want to live with her, I want her to take care of me."
"She cant take care of you. Ever. She will never be able to take care of you. Even though she loves you. She cant ever take care of you."
"She can get better."
"Honey we don't even know where she is."
"She's at the hospital (rehab)."
"Baby, she left the hospital."
"Why?" Sobbing.
"Because she didn't want to listen to the doctors. She didn't want to get better."
"WHY?"
"Because her Mama didn't teach her to make good choices. She doesn't know how to make good choices."
Sobbing.
I'm at the verge of tears. You are so hurt and so small and so lovely. I want you to understand all of the things that I am thinking. I want you to be able to erase all the hurt.
You look up. At the trees at the lake house. The trees that I always took so much comfort in, the trees that make me feel like my own mother is still alive and near me. You look up, look at me and tell me that your mother made you sleep beneath the trees. That your mother had no blankets. That your mother had no food for you.
We lock eyes and I say "Can I ask you a question?"
You say "Yes."
"Can I please take care of you? Can I please try to take care of you and be a Mama to you until you don't need me to show you how to make good choices?"
"Yes."
So when you read this one day, my girl, my wonderful, brilliant girl. Please know that I loved you, I love you and will always forever love you like my very own because you are. And no matter how mad you get at me for telling you the truth about your birth mom I hope that you realize I just wanted you to understand and know exactly what was going on.
And yes, we could have had another child on our own easily, we could have just stopped at your brother but something in our hearts told us to find you. So many people, so many things happened to bring us together.
We feel so lucky every day and even say it to ourselves that we even were able to lay eyes on you in the first place. Though we never believed in miracles you are our very first and very own miracle, forever.
What a very lucky girls R is to have her new family. Time helps and heals.....
Posted by: Michele Tilyou | 07/19/2011 at 08:52 AM
awwwwwww. I'm so glad to know all of you and have you in my life.
Posted by: Jenna @ sweet fine day | 07/19/2011 at 09:07 AM
SO MANY TEARS ON MY DESK AT WORK NOW.
<3
Posted by: tamerajane | 07/19/2011 at 09:26 AM
Oh, love. Sara, you are so good. Thank you.
Posted by: Anna @ D16 | 07/19/2011 at 09:34 AM
In tears over here. Little R is so lucky to have landed where she can be so loved and cherished as she should be.
Posted by: MentalChew | 07/19/2011 at 09:41 AM
It hurts just reading this. The pain you are both feeling must feel so big and unscaleable but it won't last too much longer. Little R has a big, beautiful heart and soul, as big as yours, and that heart and soul will soon recognize you as her mother. She might not forget her birth mother or the bond she feels with her, but she will know where she feels safe, warm and loved beyond compare. She will know who "mom" is. Big, big hugs, Sara.
Posted by: Christine Martz | 07/19/2011 at 10:27 AM
So much pain and love in the same conversation.
Posted by: neishia | 07/19/2011 at 11:29 AM
I don't even know what to say, except that I love brutal honesty in prose, in narrative, in life. This is so wonderful. Thanks for sharing such a deep part of your growing family. Little R is so lucky, though not as so as the little girl who now has you calling her 'daughter.'
Posted by: Baby by the Sea | 07/19/2011 at 01:18 PM
Oh Sara, this was so sad and lovely too.
Posted by: Lara | 07/19/2011 at 08:08 PM
Oh, this took the air from my lungs. Painful and beautiful to read.
Posted by: Sid | 07/20/2011 at 06:31 AM
Someone posted a link to this post in my comments section and I'm so glad they did. You broke my heart but strengthened my will to make a child's life better. Thank you so much.
Posted by: Dearwedding.wordpress.com | 07/20/2011 at 11:01 AM
There is such aching sadness and such huge love in this one post. Thank you for your honesty, for sharing such a brutal and inspiring journey with us. We hope to adopt one day and you make it seem a little more possible.
Posted by: cara | 07/23/2011 at 12:49 AM
Thank you for your post. I have had the almost exact conversation many times over the past few months with our 5 year old. People always tell us what "good people" we are to take care of her and her brother. We always brush it off and think... who wouldn't do the same? But in reading your experience I feel understood. You and many others know what it is to be the receptacle for a child's pain and confusion, holding it so she doesn't have too. But oh how quickly that burden is lifted with only a smile, sigh of comfort or giggle from her tiny little self. She said to me the other day "I love you with my whole heart... all at the same time." and skipped away. best sentence ever! hang in there! she sounds like a lucky little girl!
Posted by: Holly | 07/25/2011 at 10:49 AM
As someone with a mother who didn't know how to make healthy choices and who didn't choose her daughter when it mattered, I remember the pain of being left behind. The thing that's going to save Little R. - the one safe rock in that huge sea of anger and hurt and and sadness - is the absolute fierce love that you and Thor and Henry have for that little girl.
Hang on, Sara. Hang on tight. I love you.
Posted by: Stephanie King | 08/02/2011 at 10:57 AM
gulp. i have a huge lump in my throat, but wanted you to know immediately how very much i loved this entry.
Posted by: Shelby | 09/01/2011 at 11:10 PM
tears.. this is so beautiful and sad.
Posted by: unha | 09/02/2011 at 12:19 AM
I just read over this again. I was thinking about how fortunate Little R was to land in such loving arms. Such a lucky and loved little lady. As a teacher, I have seen what happens when people aren't saved and it is heartbreaking. Your love and honesty will always be her life raft. I feel compelled to say 'Thank You' for some reason. Thank you. XO (I didn't put a heart because I knew that would throw you over the edge).
Posted by: Val | 12/05/2011 at 05:01 PM
Just found your blog and had to say how much I appreciated your honesty, both to R and to the world. Like Stephanie's comment, I had a similar childhood - it is the people who take care of us that are our "mothers" even if they aren't officially. Good luck and thank you for sharing!
Posted by: Brandy | 01/22/2012 at 10:21 AM