Learning How to Share At Any Age

I understand how important it is to share. "Sharing is caring!" I often remind my daughter when she has cousins or friends over and "forgets" to let them play with her toys. 

Before I was a mom, sharing was not very easy for me. I was never one to want to order two dishes at a restaurant and share my plate with someone else - not even my husband or my best friend. I was always worried there would not be enough for me.  

Now when I have something particularly yummy on my plate, and my daughter inevitably wants it, I share it with her without even thinking about it. Often, I anticipate her wanting what I have and automatically slice her off a piece or set aside something of mine for her.

I grew up in a relatively big family. We all had to share. There was no way around it. And yet, if I am honest, sharing sometimes makes me want to pout.

Let me give you a recent example. This past weekend, we had a visit with Miranda's birth mother. It was a nice visit overall, and Miranda soaked in all the extra attention that she was given. I, meanwhile, was a giant bundle of nerves, hovering in the corner, feeling inadequate and out of place.

I know this is ridiculous. I know it makes no sense. I know I drive Gary nuts during these visits. I can't help it, though. I hate sharing the single best thing in my life. My daugther.

I can share her with Gary. No problem. I can share her with our friends and family. Duh. I struggle, though, with sharing her with the woman who gave her something I could never have given her - the gift of life.

Instead of being grateful and feeling blessed that this woman chose Gary and me to raise our daughter, I feel insignificant and alone and afraid. 

I think we have maybe one more visit before Miranda asks who M is to us. There are no other kids at our visits, and she is always the center of attention. When we see M in October, she showers her with holiday gifts. When we see M in March, she showers her with birthday presents. Sooner or later, Miranda is going to want to know why we see this woman at all. 

We talk about adoption a fair amount. We have yet to connect the dots, though, and explain that Miranda is in fact adopted. It's hard to understand at any age, let alone four. We are on borrowed time, though. Miranda is becoming more and more inquisitive and we owe it to her to share her truth with her.

Upon leaving our visit, I remarked to Gary that I dreaded having 14 more years of these visits. To which Gary replied, "It's 56 hours. Total. Our visits are 2-3 hours each, twice a year. That means it's about 56 hours that M gets with Miranda. We will have that by Tuesday."

Then I felt foolish. He was right, of course. We get EVERYTHING. She gets a few hours a year. 

It's not a competition. I am her mother. M is the woman who gave her life. Miranda will be able to have room for us both one day. Of this I am sure.

I wish I was better at sharing. In time, perhaps I will be...

At our visit this past weekend