"Mom, how does the Tooth Fairy fly through the air?"
"How do YOU think?"
"I think moms do it."
"But how can a Mom be a Tooth Fairy?"
"Good moms are lots of things, Princess."

Tuesday, May 4, 2010

A Nightmare

I woke up at 2:00 am panting hard and unable to shake it. I dreamed that we put the Cuddle Bear to sleep on the floor and left. When we came back she sat up and sobbed with a broken heart about how afraid she was and why did we leave her alone, and I swept her up and sobbed with her how sorry I was.

I got up and walked around. I was perplexed about why the dream was so upsetting. It wasn't real. It's not something I would EVER do in my waking life. I couldn't shake the shame and horror of doing such a thing to my daughter, even though I didn't actually do it.

What my 2:00 am brain was slow to realize is that it DID happen. Not to the Cuddle Bear. Not by us. And not in quite that way. It happened to Princess and Peanut. And suddenly I was socked in the gut with the utter fear and helplessness that Princess, at least, must have felt, and I cried for her and in place of others.

You wouldn't think that this would have been the first time, but Princess will not verbalize "before," and I think somehow it becomes less real to me. I wish SO HARD that she would talk about it. I wanted to be the kind of adoptive mom who had frequent discussion about their first mom, their other life, but no one seems to want to talk about it. I'm sure Princess remembers absolutely everything, and I'm reasonably sure she thinks of her on a regular basis. But she has made it clear in no uncertain terms that she will. not. talk about it. Why, you ask? Well, because if she tells, "it" will happen again here, of course. She said that. And how do you convince someone otherwise?

With Peanut being so well-regulated these days, I just came out and asked her, "do you think about Mommy J a lot?" She shrugged her shoulders and said, "not really," and went on with what we were doing. Is it true? I don't know. I do know I have done everything I can think of to facilitate safe and open discussion about their first mom. Outside of talking about the stuff I know about when they were babies, they don't seem to care to participate. And why do I care if they talk about it anyway? I guess I think it has to come out sometime, and better now than when they're 30. But I can't do it for them. The timing is in their hands.


  1. Let them bring it up and then openly answer.

  2. You weren't the only one awake last night. Must have been contagious.