We were actually able to meet Sparkle’s birth/first mom, L., when we were in South Africa.
The adoption was already complete, but he had only been my son for less than a week. When we arrived at the office where we were to meet her, a social worker took him from my arms. Beloved and I sat on a couch, and the social worker took Sparkle down a hall to where L. was waiting in another room.
I am glad Sparkle and L. had this time together, just the two of them, though at the time it felt so odd to be separated from him. We waited for about 15 minutes. Then there was a knock, and L. came in carrying Sparkle with the social worker not far behind her.
When I stood up, L. lifted Sparkle and handed him to me over a small coffee table.
I hadn’t been sure how I would feel when I saw her. Right away I hugged her, now holding Sparkle again. Partly I did this because I felt like it was the expected thing for me to do, and partly maybe from relief, but also because I liked her immediately. (I’m not sure how I might have felt if she hadn’t passed Sparkle back to me fairly quickly. Maybe it would have been different.)
We were able to talk with her for about 45 minutes. We gave her gifts: a mother/child pendant and a small camera and a few other things. She jumped up when the tissue paper uncovered the camera, hugging me again.
She gave Sparkle a stuffed giraffe.
A social worker whom we had never met was in the room, as well as our driver (she had our cameras).
In the video, you can tell that we we’re all feeling a bit awkward. There is really no other relationship I can think of to compare with the one between adoptive parents and birth/first parents. L. was someone with whom we felt a close connection, and yet she was a stranger. We wanted to let the conversation feel slow and natural, but we also knew we had a limited time with her that day, and didn’t know when (if ever) we would see her again.
I actually had a list of things I wanted to make sure to talk with her about. I thought this would help, but it really didn’t. We had been told by another social worker that “birthmothers don’t want to talk about the fathers, since it’s often a difficult subject.” Looking back, I wish we had found a way to talk about Sparkle’s birthfather. At the time we were trying to be respectful of what we thought were her wishes. Now I wonder if she didn’t think it odd, perhaps, that we never mentioned him.
We send photo and letter updates to the South African agency every 6 months. We always write a letter directly to L., but we don’t know if she sees the letters or photos. Of course we want them to be there if she ever decides to look for them, even if she doesn’t want to see them now.
We feel very blessed to have been given even this limited contact with L. We are honored that she asked to meet us and had the courage to come.
L. gave us a letter for Sparkle. At the top she wrote her address, but the agency covered it with white out before giving us the envelope.
Her picture has been framed in Sparkle’s bedroom since shortly after we arrived home. He knows her name and that she lives in South Africa and that he grew inside her until he was ready to be born. We talk about her often. He has several classmates with moms who are pregnant, and another classmate whose little sister is coming from China. So lately airplanes and babies and bellies come up a lot. He doesn’t think about these things very philosophically at this point, but he is getting the ideas straight.
Some days I wish L. could be more "real" to Sparkle, and some days I think we should just be happy to have been given so much already.
