Dorie Morgan’s Rising Up
Navigating Twenty-Something Suburban Life
-
Archive of "adoption" Category
Is blood thicker than water?
My mother gives me a lot of unsolicited advice when it comes to married life. I suppose it’s a natural and overwhelming urge for her to pass on these gems of wisdom. Nine times out of ten, I strongly disagree with what she believes to be true, which is making me wonder how I lived in the same house as this woman from birth until adulthood.
Lately, the advice has been relating to interacting with his family. Since I am an only child and an only grandchild (yes, I know I blogged about my cousin last week but she’s actually my step-cousin), I need all the advice I can get when it comes to interacting with siblings. While I spent the first 24 years of my life learning how to be quiet by myself, Brian learned how to survive having 3 older sisters.
When it comes to healthy family relationships, I am in over my head.
So my mom gives me advice to make up for the fact that reproduction is not my family’s strong point. She seems to think that if she passes on enough pieces of truth from her own life, it will make up for some of the confusion in my own life.
But really, her advice is just getting under my skin. “Blood is thicker than water” is her favorite phrase to utter over the phone during my commute home.
The way I catch myself interpreting her advice is that biological family ties will be the bonds that trump all other bonds. I’m not sure that is what she really means but it is what I keep hearing. And in my life, there are so many things wrong with that mentality.
For example: I don’t know who my birth father is. Despite the fact that he was married to my mother when I was both conceived and born, I have not seen him since I was six months old. In my house, we don’t talk about it. I don’t know what he looks like and no one will answer my questions. Which then leaves the question: If blood is truly thicker than water, is the blood flowing through my veins just really crappy? Is it less bonding than other blood?
Take another example: My step dad adopted me when I was thirteen. I’ve called him “Daddy” since the day he married my mother. He gave me away when I married Brian. But despite a slight resemblance, I share no genetic material with the man I identify as my father. There is no “blood” between us. If blood is truly thicker than water, does an adopted child only have a chance at a deep relationship when they grow up and have kids of their own?
But more troubling, my mom’s advice makes me think of baby boomers and the waves of divorce I have watched my friends survive. Even as adults, the experience of watching their parents divorce has shaken the world they live in. And the shared blood through their children still was not enough to make things work.
If blood truly is thicker than water, how does a marriage survive and thrive? Will sibling relationships always take the cake for closeness?
And then I wonder about my life and my marriage. And I wonder about the world of twenty somethings and their budding marriages. Will our ability to learn from our parents’ mistakes enable us to change the face of American marriage? Could we decide as a generation to make the difference between family and friends irrelevant?
Anniversaries
Note: While a good part of me is desperate to give a scathing review of Britney Spears and its impact on pop culture and another part of me feels obligate to write something about September 11 and what it means to remember, I have decided that I will not be touching those topics until later in the week. There is still too much hype from Britney and it is so cliché to write about September 11th. I don’t believe that I can address those topics in a meaningful way at this time so I decline to do so until I feel ready. But trust me, I will.
On Saturday afternoon, I found myself shopping in Macy’s for dress clothes for Brian with my father which was not something I had planned to do. I had planned to go to my parents’ house, have my mother iron Brian’s new dress shirt and then head home but my mother’s quick departure to a hair appointment threw a wrench in those plans. I was grateful when my father offered to show me how to iron the dress shirt but one burnt fifty-five dollar French cuff shirt later, I was wondering if I made the correct decision.
Both fortunately and unfortunately, Macy’s was having their Labor Day One Day Sale on Saturday which meant prices were great but the lines were massive. We managed to find something similar to the burnt shirt in the very last one in Brian’s size. The line seemed to go on forever and very quickly, I found myself engaged in awkward conversation with my father.
My dad is not really a much of a talker in the best of circumstances. He’s a quiet guy, insightful. He’s the type of man that you have significant conversations with at home or in a nice restaurant on a predetermined date. He is not the type of man who wants to have a great conversation in line at a Macy’s. Whereas I’m the type of girl who does want to have those conversations.
We very quickly burned through the conversation he was willing to make. So I moved on to birthdays, anniversaries, upcoming significant family events. It just so happens that my parents’ sixteenth wedding anniversary is in two weeks so I asked my dad what he and my mom would like for a gift.
I was quickly alerted that this was an inappropriate question for me to ask. My father, apparently, believes that an anniversary is a private, intimate event between two people. An anniversary has nothing to do with anyone other than the two people who were involved.
I was shocked. And mildly insulted.
In a strange way, I realized that the words coming out of my father’s mouth went against everything I was raised to believe. And somehow, I felt like I was being left out in the cold by my family.
As a child raised with just a mother, I knew any marriage she was able to make was also a marriage with me. A potential husband for her was a potential father for me. We were a package deal and there was no way to separate us. My mother’s second husband adopted me following the wedding, making him the only father I have ever known. The marriage that took place in September of 1991 marks not only the beginning of my mother’s life with my father but the beginning of stability for me as well. Their anniversary is far more than just them.
Even more importantly, I was hurt as a Christian. A wedding between a man and a woman is not a rope with two strands but a rope with three strands representing Man, Woman and God. My father seemed to be leaving God out of his marriage. I also believe that a marriage is an event with in a community and therefore, shouldn’t the anniversary of that marriage also be an event within a community? If it does not continue to have that significance, then why do we take the time and effort to engage in premarital counseling through the Church, have the wedding ceremony take place in a Church and then invite a multitude of family and friends to the event? It seems to me that in order for a marriage to be successful, a community needs to stand behind it and in it. The support of other followers of Christ is what separates Christian marriages from our contemporary counterparts.
I’m still not sure what I want to say to my dad on the matter. I did some sleuthing and discovered where they are celebrating the day with a meal. It’s my intent to do something nice to mark the day, regardless of his desire for my involvement. Maybe its stubbornness or maybe it is a desire to be more Christ like in my actions. I have yet to determine which option it is.
Babies
Our pastor and his wife announced yesterday in church that they are expecting a baby in February. They are currently in the process of adopting a little boy from Guatemala so they will suddenly jump from 1 child to 3 in just six month.
I’m jealous.
I know Brian and I promised each other that we would wait four years before we started trying. We want to be sure that we are ready for babies but we also want to be sure that we have time to be a couple. A baby would change everything in ways that we are not prepared for. A baby is more than we can handle.
Still. I am jealous. I want to experience the world through the eyes of a child. I want to watch in amazement as a little person grows and changes in front of me. I want to fuss over bonnets and little shoes. I want to laugh with a little face.
I know I am not ready.
I know that my priority at the moment is to be a good wife to Brian and to be a good person to myself. I know it is not realistic, practical or ideal. I know at the moment I have a strong preference to be Crazy Aunt Dorie instead of “MOM”.
Recent Comments