My mother works hard on keeping this blog alive. I joined her here so I could write what I witness with my daughter’s adoption and show people what it’s like for someone so new to being a first mother. I try hard to write a post, but sometimes it seems I only get angrier at the situation. I do not want to repeat what I did on Facebook after I lost my daughter to adoption. I know my contact with her will be quickly severed if I let my emotions get the best of me publicly. So, I am writing about something that doesn’t make me angry.
I am pretty sure my mom has mentioned her mother, my grandmother, here before. We lost her to cancer in 2001. Like my mother, I miss my grandmother. Dreams of her come to me almost every night. Dreams in which I usually wake up in tears. In a dream I can remember, all my mom’s side of the family are gathered at a house where my grandmother lived. My brother and sister are talking with our great-grandmother (my mom’s grandmother). My dad is with some guys watching football, and my mother is with her cousin. They are laughing and teasing each other like they do in real life. Everyone is joyfully talking about their lives…except me.
I’m at my grandmother’s grave, telling her about Olivia, the adoption and how my life has been the past 11 years she has been gone. We all miss my grandmother, but I believe I am the only one at her grave because of the close relationship I had with her when she was alive. I remember hearing someone say at her funeral that I took her death harder than anyone else. I think I did take her death hard, and I’m still having a hard time moving on from her absence. Losing Olivia only makes losing my grandmother worse.
According to my mother and father, my grandmother was a strong woman who was not afraid to speak her mind. I do wish cancer would not have taken her from us. She could have met Olivia, her first great-grandchild. She could have stood by me during my pregnancy, and the difficult decision about adoption. In a way, she was a role model for me in my childhood. I desperately wanted to be like her, not afraid of saying what I wanted to say. It would have saved us a lot of heartache.
My mom says she sees her mom in Olivia. Through the eyes, mostly. I told mom maybe grandma was reincarnated into Olivia. We both laughed.
I grieve the loss of my daughter, but I also grieve the loss of my grandmother. One taken by cancer and the other by ignorance and selfishness.