Fox is now six weeks old. He sleeps less and smiles more. We are venturing out more and more. One issue that comes up over and over again when we’re out is that here we are with a newborn and while I’m not a small woman, I don’t look like I did at six weeks postpartum with Bean. For friends that didn’t know that we were hoping to adopt it is all a bit confusing. I’m hesitant to start conversations with the fact that Fox was adopted, not for some need to deny this fact, but because I don’t want adoption to be the primary identifier of our relationship. I don’t want him to perceive that there is some kind of qualifier on how we love him. I don’t want him to think that the parental love I feel for him is any different than what I feel for Bean, because I tell you, at six weeks into this, that fierce mama love that I feel about Fox is just as present, just as strong as it was with Bean. Will he know he is adopted, heck yes. He will have two mothers, Big Mama and me, in his life. I’m afraid that his first father may never play a significant role. I imagine that adoption may well be a part of who he identifies himself, but hopefully not wholly. I hope that it is one of those things that when new friends say at college give a curious look at the mention of both a Big Mama and a mom, he says “Oh, yeah I have two mothers. I’m adopted. Both Big Mama and Mum have a dry sense/wicked of humor, so look out, I got it via nature and nurture.” That adoption is a secondary comment, not a primary.
One of my best friends when I was in grade, middle and high school was adopted and her mum constantly mentioned it. Like it was a qualifier that explained everything. It was just weird. So while our open adoption relationships may be an everyday part of our lives, I want the world to see Fox as the beautiful, funny, brilliant and love person that he most certainly is first without qualifiers.