When I wrote Murphy Lives Here, it was a cathartic experience for me. I have mentioned it before, but I find when I write down exactly what I am feeling, it helps me often come to terms with whatever is getting in my own way.
Yesterday, my husband put up our Christmas tree. We started discussing when the last time we had a tree was and he commented that it was about 5 years ago. We stopped when we suffered from the adoption loss. We just weren’t in the celebrating mood. It took us this long to recover.
This year is different. We are not recovering from a crazy storm and we have a toddler who is starting to understand the idea of Santa. My husband looked at me and proclaimed, “What a wonderful time in our lives.”
It is amazing how your mind starts to reformulate opinions when time has passed. I must admit that over the past four years, I have often wondered about the birth parents of Jenna. In Murphy Lives Here, they sound almost villainous because the story was told through my eyes. But I have often envisioned what their story would sound like through their experiences.
In their reality, Helen found herself unexpectedly pregnant at a terrible time in her life. She was in crisis and suffered long and hard trying to figure out what to do with her unplanned pregnancy. Even though she did not want to give up her baby, everyone around her convinced her to do so because they thought it would be best for her and the baby. Then, my husband and I enter the picture and put even more pressure on her to do what she never wanted to do. She pretends that she wants the adoption in front of us and her family because she knows it is what everybody expects her to do and she does not know how to speak up.
Plans are made, but as each day to the birth gets closer, she cries longer and harder for the moment she has been dreading since she was pressured into making the decision to give up her baby. She crumbles to the floor when handing her baby to me and I callously leave the room with her baby never to think about her again. Finally, through her tears, she declares what has been in her heart all along. She wants to be a mother now. Even though she admits the timing is not wonderful, this was her baby and she loved her. Her family finally realizes that they were wrong to push her towards adoption. They make the phone call to the agency and are happily reunited at the adoption agency. Since the adoptive hopefuls (my husband and I) were not portrayed as nasty, the story is sure to include the fact that we have our own happy ending in another way.
Told this way, it is a joyous story for all. I wish I could say I remember it this way, but I can’t. When I look back at that time it is still painful. The truth is that the pain never dissipates, but makes permanent indentations in your soul. And although my soul has been forever altered, the alterations were not all bad. What I have learned as time has passed is that there really were no villains, just perspectives.