Sharing Is Caring

We are taught from a young age to share.  Share our toys.  Share our feelings.  Share our lives with others.

I want to be a good sharer.  But it's hard when I have to share my daughter with her other mother.

Gary says it's not really sharing.  And he is right.  But in some ways, it sure feels like it is.

We agreed to open adoption.  We agreed to 2 in person visits a year.  We agreed to share our baby's life with the woman that gave it to her.

It's so good for Miranda to know that her birth mother (M) hand picked us to raise her.  It will be so good for Miranda to know what her birth mother looks like and sounds like and well, is like.

None of that takes anything away from me.

And yet today, sitting in a restaurant watching her feed my daughter, I felt like I wanted to grab Miranda and run.

Far away so no one could find us.  I do not want to share!

But M got 2 hours today.  I got that with Miranda just on the drive to and from the meeting.  M fed her a bottle.  I feed her several bottles today.  M held her and gave her kisses.  So did I.  Isn't the point for Miranda to have as much love and as many kisses as possible?

I guess one of the lessons of parenthood really is that your goal is to do what is in the best interest of the child.  So if that means that I have to "share" my baby for a few hours a YEAR, that's not so bad.  And even if it was...if it was difficult and miserable and awkward, I would do it anyway since it really is what is best for Miranda.  And yet it was not difficult.  Or miserable.  Or awkward.  For we have one very special bond between us and that is the special little girl that we both call our daughter.  

The birth father is not in the picture and I often wonder what it would be like if we had to share Miranda with him, too.  I guess it would be the same.  Respecting where she came from but knowing that we get the honor and privilege of raising her and parenting her and teaching her so many things.  Like sharing.

So at the end of the day, when our daughter is tucked in safe and sound and I have a few minutes to write and reflect, I find myself feeling sad for the woman who cannot raise the baby she gave birth to and yet grateful and happy at the same time that we were chosen to do the job. 

It's by far my favorite job yet.  I love being Miranda's mom.  Turns out I am really good at it.

So I guess sharing is caring.  And sharing is loving.  And sharing is complicated.  But what isn't??