The Force Is Strong With Us

I had a major epiphany last week. Not like the time I decided my calling in life was to build dollhouses, or when I seriously considered going to clown college, but a real deal epiphany. What was it you ask? Only that the Star Wars trilogy is one of the most touching stories of a birth parent/adoptee relationship ever told! I’m not crazy…I swear!

I received a letter a couple weeks ago from Bee’s mom. She was nice enough to include a few of Bee’s school projects. One of which was a drawing of him rocking out on guitar hero with a caption that read, “When I come home I like to play video games”. Me too, Bee!

While I know it’s no crazy surprise that an eight year old digs video games, it still made me happy to know we share a common interest. Being a birth mom I have to deal with the fact that Bee is no longer mine. He won’t grow up with my family traditions. He will never call me mom. He belongs to an entirely different family all together. So I take comfort in knowing that there are things that he and I share that can never be taken away from either of us. He has my smile, my nose, and my crappy vision (much to my disappointment on the latter).

Luke Skywalker is Darth Vader’s son. Even though Luke stays true to himself and the good nature of his adoptive family by rejecting the dark side, he can’t deny his bloodline. His biological make up is the reason why The Force is so strong within him! Watching Star Wars from a birth mom’s point of view makes it so much more than a super rad space adventure. To me, it’s the story of an adoptee finding the balance between nature and nurture.

Of course I never want my son to have to struggle to find himself. I want him to grow up knowing exactly who he is. I want him to feel secure in knowing that he is living the life he was meant to live.

Still, if Bee turns out to be an awesome Jedi, I’ll take the credit for that one!

Cheers!

--Lacy

Quote of the Week: Happiness

"Happiness is like a butterfly; 

the more you chase it, the more it will elude you."

~ Author Unknown

Photo Credit

Happy

I know I posted late! Sorry to everyone!!
Happy Saturday to all of you reading!!!!

Today is a happy day :) It's my birthday. On this day I find myself grateful and happy and content. Everything seems to be going the right way. Like I've found my path and I'm walking it with the support of many friends and family and with the guidance of God.I find myself not looking back to the pain I went through but to the future. I guess my message this week for all of you is that of hope. The hope that one day you too will be happy and content, not sad and pain filled. There is light at the end of that tunnel.

I hope that you all have a great week!

Sarah 

Worry

Photo credit: http://morningcruise.blogspot.com/

I’m a worrywart by nature.  It’s as inherent to me as breathing.  I get frustrated by the unneeded stress and pain that worrying causes, but as much as I tell myself to stop worrying and that everything’s going to be okay, I can’t seem to stop.

So when it takes T and C a while to respond to an email from me, I worry.  I worry that I’ve said something to offend or hurt them and that I’ll never hear from them again.

It's interesting that open adoption in general seems to breed those feelings.  Don’t get me wrong.  I know that all birthmothers have to struggle with some feelings of worry about their children, whether they’re in closed, semi-open, or fully open adoptions.  But I think that each situation breeds different kinds of worry.

I just completed my first official year of open adoption.  There’s been a lot of worry on my part about where I stand in general in my daughter’s and her parents’ life.  During the year, T and I have gone from exchanging an occasional letter (which we still send) to sending emails back and forth quite frequently.  When we first started emailing, we exchanged long emails a couple of times a day, but by the time December arrived, it had gone down to a couple of emails a week, and they were MUCH shorter.  But that was okay.  I was (and still am) grateful for any contact.

I think that’s been the key for me.  I still worry.  I don’t think I’ll ever stop.  But I worry less because I trust that the relationship we’ve built will survive.  That we don’t have to send a certain amount of emails a week (or daily, for that matter).  I know that they won’t forget about me.  They won’t decide suddenly that they don’t want to have any contact with me ever again.

So I still send emails when I have news.  I still email and let them know I’m thinking about them.  Every time I make a comment that I’m sure they’re tired of hearing from me, T reassures me that even though she may not respond as promptly as even she would like, that they still love hearing from me.

What do you do when you worry?  Do you have something you think about that helps you worry a bit less?

Baby Showers and Birthmoms

Baby showers can be painful for some birthmothers, especially newer birthmothers, although I do know some older birthmothers who still get emotional at the thought of attending baby showers.

I think that baby showers are painful for birthmothers because they remind of us what we did not have and what we missed. Most of us who are now birthmothers did not have that celebratory baby shower that so many new mothers are thrown in the late months of pregnancy. It’s almost like the baby shower is a passage to motherhood and it’s one of those rights that we miss so going to baby showers can be difficult.

I attended a baby shower when my son was just a few months old. I should have politely skipped, but I forced myself to go. I busied myself by helping serve refreshments and made it through the shower but shed many tears later in the privacy of my own home. Nine years later, it’s much easier.

If you feel too emotional or you are not ready to attend a baby shower just yet, politely try to bow out. Most of the times friends and family will understand. Don’t sacrifice your emotional health just to be there for appearance sake.

If you don’t want to bow out or feel obligated to attend, try going a little bit early and then leaving once it starts to get crowded or go towards the end of the shower. This way you are still making an appearance but you can avoid some of the “oh’s” and “ah’s” and baby shower games.

If you have decided to attend a baby shower and you need a gift but just can’t handle the baby sections of stores, then opt to buy a gift card or instead of buying a gift for the baby, buy a gift for the mother. She’ll receive a ton of gifts for the baby so you could buy her something pampering (like bath gels, candles, gift certificate for a massage, fuzzy slippers, a robe, etc.) and attach a card reminding her to take time for herself.

If you attend a baby shower and begin to feel emotional, take a minute to yourself in the bathroom or another area where you can just have a moment to collect your thoughts, breathe, and regain your composure. I usually offer to assist with refreshments, cut cake, or some other kind of activity that will keep me busy for a bit.

Do baby showers bother you? Do you have any helpful tips on how to survive a baby shower? Please share!

Standing Tall

When I was about eight years old I went with my mom to visit my uncle. I loved visiting my uncle. He worked on a railroad and he always had great stories about all of his many adventures. This particular visit to his house he had a video for my mom and I to watch. It was a video of a vacant building being imploded. For whatever reason, he was invited by a friend of his to watch (and record) this spectacle. I was captivated. I sat and watched the camera zoom into the structure. I waited patiently for the crowning moment. I listened intently to the hustle and bustle of the workers as they prepared to detonate the structure. Then just like that, it was done. What was once a tall building was now a pile of dust and rubble.

Looking back I can’t help but wonder why I was so captivated by such an event. Maybe I was just a little kid who wanted to see something blow up, or maybe it’s just human nature to enjoy watching things fall. Either way, I can’t help but wonder. What purpose did that building serve? I was never told what it was actually used for. Even if it was just a warehouse used to store items, surely someone somewhere had fond memories of it. What about the people who built it? How would they feel if they knew I took such pleasure in watching the fruits of their labor crumble to the ground?

As birth parents we face unique challenges that other parents do not. While other parents are watching their children take their first steps, we will watch this moment from a distance and some of us won’t watch at all. We also face spectators who want to see us fall. People who are so put off by the idea of adoption what they write us off as dead beat parents, lazy, or just plain heartless. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not claiming that we’re the only group of people out there who face these spectators. From my experience, however, it certainly seems that these people are allowed to stand a little bit closer to the front lines.

As I move through life as a birth mother, I look for reasons to stand tall every day. One look at the photo of my son that sits on my desk can turn an otherwise crappy day into the day I decide to live life like it’s my last day on earth. The thought that one day my son will possibly be proud of me can give me the burst of energy needed to pull myself through the week, month, or even the year. Most recently, I’ve decided to think of the spectators. That ugly little group of people who stand on the sidelines, waiting for me to fall. I will never let those spectators see me fall.

Besides, whenever a building of some significance is scheduled to be demolished, there is always a whole other group of people fighting to preserve it.

Cheers!

-Lacy

Quote of the Week: Some Succeed

"Some succeed because they are destined to but most succeed because 

they are determined to." 

~ Author Unknown

Fear

Happy Saturday to all of you reading!

I hope this week has been good to all of you and I am very happy that you are reading this. I hope this blesses you in some way.

First some funny news; I recently saw a video by G and K with ML in it. I’m going to change how I refer to ML to Sock now because in that video they asked what his name was and he answered “Sock”. I laughed watching him laugh and smile.

I can’t help but be so incredibly grateful for G and K. I have read other birthmother’s stories about dealing with their children’s adoptive parents and I am astounded at the lack of kindness and respect from some adoptive parents. I guess I had rose-colored glasses when it came to adoptive parents because Sock’s are so amazing.  Why is it so hard for birthmothers and adoptive parents to get along? To respect and love each other as important people in their child’s life?

Personally I know that it was awkward and hard at first to figure out where I fit into G and K’s life. What is my role in Sock’s life? Do G and K want me really involved? What’s crossing the line? Is it ok to do this or that? I know that for the first year of Sock’s life, G and K were wonderful. Every month I got to see Sock either at K’s mothers house, the park, my house, or another public place. I got to see Sock develop and it was so wonderful. Yet at the same time I didn’t know exactly how to act in front of them with Sock. I didn’t want them to think I was trying to parent or trying to take the place of mother. I didn’t want them to be uncomfortable. After that first year(at Sock’s 1^st birthday party) things changed. The changes weren’t bad; it was just different.

I had to realize that they needed to bond as a family and I had to move forward with my life. If those two things were going to happen then there needed to be a change in visitation. So I saw Sock less. I wish I had had the courage earlier in the relationship to ask G and K what they wanted from me and what they saw my role as but I didn’t want to mess anything up.  I was scared. So another year went by without me asking vital questions that should be asked and answered from the start.

In that year (this past year), G and K moved out of state, had another beautiful baby boy and they still keep in touch. They visit every now and again and I get to see Sock at least once or twice a year. This past time that I saw him I finally had the courage to talk to G and K about what they saw as my role in Sock’s life. I didn’t know what to expect but I was nervous. What if they said that they didn’t want me in his life at all; that my role was an observer and I wasn’t to be involved in a meaningful way. The answer I got was just amazing. They see me as a meaningful person in Sock’s life. They see me as part of the family and while Sock won’t call me mom (which is just fine by me) he’ll still see me as a close friend and ally. I couldn’t ask for more.

It’s taken two years for G and K and I to work out where we fit into each others lives. While to some that may seem like a really long time, I think it’s fairly short. But back to what I said earlier in this post. I think the answer is fear. I think that both adoptive parents and birthmothers are scared. It’s understandable fear but, as I’ve found, if you can get past that fear there is a relationship that will enrich both parties lives. And yes there is the exception to this. There are some that will never get past their fear and those in semi-open and closed adoptions might also be exceptions but one can still hope that the fear in adoption can be replaced. I have to hope that one day that this fear will be gone from adoption and I am striving to make that happen to the best of my ability.

 

"It has stayed with me through my own relationships. When I fell in love and got married, I lived in constant fear of being left. Whatever you love most, you fear you might lose, you know it can change. Why do you look from left to right when you cross the street? Because you don’t want to get run over. But, you still cross the street. The best thing to hold on to in life is each other." ~ Audrey Hepburn.

Picture courtesy of Google

Regrets

One question that I am asked most often by fellow birthmothers, expectant mothers considering adoption, and just about anyone who dares to ask it is if I regret my decision to place my son for adoption.

It seems like a simple yes or no answer, doesn’t it? But, for me at least, it’s a loaded question with a complex answer. I wish I had a simple yes or no but I don’t. I also think that the answer to that question is ever changing just as my feelings regarding adoption are ever changing.  If you had asked me that question when Charlie was one my answer would have been a solid no but now it’s much more complicated. The older Charlie gets and the more I learn about adoption seems to correlate with how my feelings regarding adoption change.

When I chose adoption for Charlie nine years ago, I thought I was doing the best thing for him at the time. I still know that I made the best decision that I could at that time in my life.  However, I do have some regrets. I regret not educating myself about adoption more. Some days, I regret not at least attempting to parent Charlie. And as silly as it may sound, I regret not giving Charlie a name of my own choosing. (I knew what the adoptive parents were intending to name him and just had that name, with my last name, put on his original birth certificate.)

But I do not regret getting pregnant with Charlie at all. Yes, I do regret the events and decisions that led up to my getting pregnant with him, but I don’t for a single second ever regret having that little boy in my life. Even with the pain involved with adoption, I’m still blessed to have him in my life.

There are some days that I feel like Charlie is exactly where he is supposed to be. Then there are other days that I’m regretful. Little did I know when I was pregnant with Charlie that by his second birthday I’d be married with a supportive husband and the means to provide for more children and by his fourth birthday his (adoptive) parents would be divorced.

But hindsight is twenty/twenty as they say. I didn’t know how my life would turn out. I only knew what was going on in my life at the time wasn’t conducive to parenting a second child. I know that I made the best decision I could at that point in my life and I don’t regret that.

I could sit here all day and say “what if….” or “I wish…” but that’s not very productive and it certainly will not change the past. So when I’m feeling regretful I try to reassure myself that I made the best decision that I could at that moment in time. I know what’s done is done and I can only try to heal from the past and move forward into the future.

How do you cope when you are feeling regretful?

Pleased To Meet You

Hello, my name is Lacy, and I am a proud birth mother.

I was 16 years old when my life changed forever. I had been going through a very rough patch. My father had just split, my mom was working well over 60 hours a week to keep our heads above water, and the world as I knew it was crumbling around me. Then I met a boy. A very charming boy.

It wasn’t long after I started dating this boy that sex came into the picture. Six months after we started dating I discovered I was pregnant. Getting pregnant at the age of 16 was certainly not something I had planned on. Being that I was 16 years old and facing an unplanned pregnancy, I was forced to make a decision. My very first decision was to have an abortion. I even made an appointment at a local clinic. Needless to say, I never went through with it. My son’s birth father was very insistent that we keep--and parent--our child. He reassured me that he would step up to the plate, and take care of us.

After a few months passed my relationship with my son’s birth father began to fall apart. He became both physically and mentally abusive. He refused to get a job, or even attempt to get a job. On top of all the problems I was having with my relationship, I was also facing a change in my living situation. My mother’s house went into foreclosure and she was left with no choice but to sell it. We were forced to move in with my grandparents. Reality was starting to hit me.

I started thinking about adoption when I was about 5 months pregnant. I had finally got the nerve to break it off with my son’s birth father, and things between us were worse than ever. I came to the conclusion that the environment was just too toxic for my child. After all, we always want what is best for our children. I certainly couldn’t provide for this child, and his birth father was beginning to show his true colors. Adoption was the only viable option. My son’s birth father, however, was absolutely not on board. As arrogant as it may sound, I am convinced he wanted me to keep the baby so he could have a link to me for the rest of our lives. If he truly cared about our baby, he wouldn’t have physically abused me while I was pregnant. After I discussed the idea of adoption with him, things between us became much worse. He harassed me, threatened me, and taunted me with promises of signing away his parental rights. “If you get back together with me I will sign away my rights, but if you leave me I will get that baby” he would say.

I went forward with planning an adoption in spite of the birth father‘s objections. I met a couple through a close family friend. They were everything I wanted for my son. They were fun, energetic, good-hearted people. I decided to go through the agency they had been working with. I was assigned a case worker and things were moving forward.

The entire time I was planning the adoption I never stopped to worry about myself. All of my worries were focused on the uncertainties of the situation. I was never quite sure weather my baby would leave the hospital with me, his birth father, or his adoptive family. The stress was overwhelming. By the time my due date rolled around I was ready to get the ball rolling. As I previously mentioned, I never actually stopped to worry about the pain I might feel handing my baby to someone else.

My son was born on the evening of October 3rd, 2002. We gave him a name (which I assure you was lovely), but I will refer to him as Bee. I didn’t spend much time with him in the hospital. I was sore, stressed, and still racked with worries over his future. His adoptive parents were able to take him home from the hospital. Though I didn’t have him in my arms when I left the hospital, I still left feeling like a proud mother. I felt joyful and hopeful for his future. “He will accomplish great things one day” I thought.

The joy was short lived, however. A few days after leaving the hospital I was served with court papers. Bee’s birth father was going through with his promise to pursue full custody. A court date was scheduled, and off I went. I testified in a court. I spoke of all the turmoil between Bee’s birth father and myself. It was painful, and nerve-racking.

Fortunately for Bee and I, the decision was in our favor. Bee’s birth father had his rights terminated. I officially placed my son into an open adoption weeks later. And so it began…the life of a birth mother.

I’m 25 years old now and while I’m pleased with the decision I made 8 years ago, each day is a challenge. I look forward to sharing my story with everyone, and here’s to hoping I learn a thing or two along the way!

Cheers!

-Lacy

Photo by: Hilde Vanstraelen / biewoef.be

Quote of the Week: Let Your Light Shine

"When you let your own light shine, 

you unconsciously give others permission to do the same." 

~ Nelson Mandela

Photo Credit

An Introduction: Sarah's Story

Hello all!


Introductions are in order :) My name is Sarah: I am a senior at the University of Central Florida studying Social Work, I am a sister, daughter, girlfriend, and friend; I own a pembroke welsh corgi named Pepper, who is extremely feisty and I am a birthmother. The story of my son, ML(his initials), and I is very long and complicated so I'll try to give you the short version with more details as I continue to blog.


Two years ago I was attending a college in another state. I had a boyfriend who decided to visit me against my parents wishes and suffice it to say we were incredibly stupid, stubborn and I was naive. I didn't think I was pregnant until I got home for winter break. My mom commented on how I was always sleeping and wondered if I was pregnant. I, of course, denied everything and anything. I privately took a pregnancy test and found out I was but I continued to deny it. On the break, while I was less than three months pregnant, I rode roller coasters and I drank alcohol and I did everything that as a pregnant woman should not do. In January, when I went back to school, I started losing a lot of weight and convinced myself again that I couldn't be pregnant because I was losing so much weight. The school found out I was pregnant and made me call my parents and tell them. After a lot of drama with the school I asked my mom if I could just come home. My mom drove with my then boyfriend to pick me up and bring me home.


At home I found more peace than at school. My parents were shocked and they went through stages of anger and disappointment but they rallied behind me and gave me a ton of support. I at first had decided that my boyfriend and I would work towards marriage and raise our son together. To make a long part of this story short, at 8 months pregnant he told me he was in love with someone else and wanted to be with her over our son and I. So I said goodbye to him and found myself lost as to what to do. I didn't want G in my life or in my son's and I knew that if I raised my son I would have to see G and that my son would be affected. My mom and I looked into adoption and talked with a few good friends about it and we were directed to an agency. Through the agency, G's rights were terminated, however I had him involved so that he wouldn't be able to make a fuss at all after the adoption went through.


At this point I'm about to look at family profiles and decide who was going to raise my son. I had a long list of qualifications such as my son had to be their first child, they had to like music, sports, they had to have dogs and they had to want other children besides my son, etc. G and I had already named our son but I realized that the parents would decide what they wanted. I told my mom and dad that if my qualifications weren't met then I would raise my son myself. Only the best for my son. My mom told me I'd never find anyone who met all my qualifications. Before I could look at any profiles, an old friend of the family told my mom that she knew a couple that were interested in adoption and would I be willing to meet them. The only reason I said yes was because this woman was like a second mom to me.


I was extremely nervous meeting this couple as I'm sure they were with meeting me. To my surprise the people who walked in were my old youth pastors and their eldest son and daughter in law. I was shocked but happy at the same time because this was a family I knew since I was little. I had never met G and K but I knew his parents and his 3 younger brothers. I didn't really want to say anything or ask questions so my mom took the lead and asked them everything. Turns out they met everything on my list of qualifications. I had to leave for an outing with my sister but my mom stayed and talked some more with them. Later on my mom told me that the name G and K had picked out for their first son was the same name that G and I had picked out. It was then I knew that they were to be my son's parents. God had set it up in such a beautiful way.


I'm sure I'll fill you all in on the small details later. We have an open adoption and I get to see ML about twice a year and I feel like I am a part of their family. I couldn't have found better adoptive parents. G and K treat me like a sister and they are really, truly wonderful people. Through this experience I found that I want to change society's view of birthmothers. 


I hope that through this blog I can help other birthmothers in some small way :) 


Have a great week!!


~ Sarah

Introductions

Hey everyone!  I'm Monika and since this is my first BirthMom Buds blog post, I thought I'd tell you my adoption story.

Mackenzie (her name is changed to protect her) was born November 10, 2009.  Guess what?  It was a complete surprise to everyone (including me) that I was even pregnant.  I had NO idea.  Being diabetic, it's not uncommon for me to miss periods, and I wore all my own clothes all the way through.  I was about 36 weeks with her when they delivered her, so she was almost full term.  From what I gathered later, no one at the ER knew I was pregnant either until they wanted to do a test on me that required them to know whether I was pregnant or not.  You see, I was having seizures.  I had the first one at home that morning.  My roommate at the time heard me flop to the floor and when she couldn't rouse me, she called 911.  I evidently had at least one more seizure on the way to the hospital.   You see, I don't remember anything from the 10th of November (when I was admitted) to the 14th of November (when they finally released me), so I've had to piece things together the best that I know how from other peoples' stories.

I do remember NOT wanting to hold her or see her after she was delivered via emergency C-section.  I've known for a very long time that even though I love kids, I never wanted to have any of my own.  I thought originally that I would want a closed adoption so I didn't want to hold or see her in the hospital because I thought that it would be too hard on me to have to place her after holding her.  I do regret that.  I regret not holding or seeing her in the hospital, though I'm not certain how much I'd actually remember of holding her.

Without medical history on me, because I had no family in the area (my family is all in Washington state and I was living in mid-Oregon at the time), and because Mackenzie was ready to leave the hospital before I was, the state took her into their custody.  I know that they questioned my ability to make an adoption decision because I was having seizures (due to high blood pressure, not brain issues).  I'm very glad that it happened the way it did, because the additional time gave me the ability to change my mind and request an open adoption instead of a closed one.

After a couple of court dates and finally getting to meet my daughter for the first time on December 11, 2009, I was able to place Mackenzie with her adoptive parents on January 4, 2010.  It was our first time meeting each other.  We didn't even get the opportunity to even talk with each other on the phone.  I picked them by their adoption book, but I had no other contact with them.  I found out much later, almost a year later, in fact, that T & C (Mackenzie's adoptive parents) requested multiple times to have the opportunity to meet me before "adoption day," but they were ignored by our adoption agency.  Going into the meeting, my social worker told me that if I didn't like them or if something struck me as odd about them, that I would have the opportunity to change my mind about them.  That the adoption would still happen, but I would have the opportunity to pick another set of parents for my daughter.  But when I met them, I just knew.  I had no doubt that while God may not have made me get pregnant, He kept her in me despite all my "efforts" (simply from not knowing) to get ride of her, and that He allowed things to happen in my life the way they did so that I could give T and C the gift of a child they'd wanted for so long.

I still console myself with that knowledge when things get rough.  Though I've had sad and rough days (more about those later), I have an extraordinary sense of peace about the whole situation.  I know God's plan is in motion, and that He's with me through every step of the way.

Missing My Son

Every single day I think about my birthson. Not one day goes by that I don’t think of him but there are days that I think of him more than others and therefore miss his presence in my life more at certain times than others. Yes, we are in an open adoption, thus a part of each other’s lives but I do miss his daily presence in my life that would occur if I were parenting him. I doubt I’m alone in this.

Sometimes there are triggers for times that I miss him more such as birthdays and holidays but at other times there isn’t any special date and I just find myself missing him more than usual. Perhaps it is because I see a mother and son out in public that remind me of what could have been or perhaps I see something in the son I am parenting that reminds me of Charlie or perhaps nothing but my heart sets off missing him.

How do you get through this when you find that the feelings of missing your child are more intense than usual?

For me personally, my number one thing to do anytime I am feeling something strongly is to write about it. Sometimes I might do that here or in my personal blog bust mostly I write about him in my personal journal which is private and for my eyes only.  There sentence structure, content, and misspellings don’t matter; I just pour my feelings out.

Another thing that I do is talk about my feelings to whomever I choose to that day. Usually I feel most comfortable discussing that either with my husband or a friend who is also a birthmother or both.

Scrapbooking also serves as a healthy way to cope with missing Charlie for me.

None of this takes the place of an actual visit or a phone call, but it does help me cope.

What do you do when you are missing your child?

Moving Forward....

I have noticed lately that my life is actually starting to move forward and it seems that the pain is less and less everyday. I have been fighting this moving forward phase because I don't want to forget all the things that adoption has meant for me. I know that I will never forget what adoption has done for me and my family, but whenever I start to move forward and move on with my life I feel like I'm pushing down all the feelings instead of dealing with them. But how do you deal with feelings as well as live your everyday life? I have been struggling with this a lot lately and addressing all of the issues has been the hardest thing for me. I want to be able to live my life without adoption looming over my head, but I also want people to know my story as well. It's a fight that I fight with every single day.

My moving forward battle consists of these things; I want to be able to live my life with my current children and my husband and move along in my faith without having to have this dreadful pain looming over me. Trying to deal with the pain while being a mother and a wife is a pretty hard task. I can't complain though, I think that being able to juggle all of those things takes a pretty strong person, and I'm happy to call myself strong. I don't want anyone to think that I'm trying push down my feelings or try to hide that I'm a birth mom. That is not my intention. I'm just trying to figure out what it is that I need to do in my own life. I feel like sometimes I am abandoning my own children while I fight this long fight. And I shouldn't be leaving them behind while I wallow in my pain.

Thankfully, I started this YouVersion where I have a devotional each day and today's was from Psalm 6:6 and I believe that many of you may understand it's meaning and be able to relate to it. "I am worn out from sobbing. All night I flood my bed with weeping, drenching it with tears." It has made me think that I really have spent a lot of time crying over things that I cannot change. And not putting mercy into the hands of God. Which is another fight that I have.

I want to be able to focus more attention on my children and my marriage as well as my walk with faith, but this is so hard to do when my pain is so deep. I'm still in the process of figuring out the path that I need to take...we shall see where this takes us.

Quote of the Week: Round World

"This world is round and the place which may seem like the end may also be the beginning." 

~ Ivy Baker Priest

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Be Faithful

So, I have a huge weight that has been lifted off of my shoulders. I have been battling with so much anger, sadness, and this huge hole in my heart and I have been completely oblivious to the way that I have been towards others and all the stress that I was putting upon myself.

Last week I got into contact with a dear friend of mine who's relationship was very strained and it was causing massive amounts of problems  not only in my personal life but with my relationship with others and my husband. It was affecting my healing process more than I can really explain.

But, because I was divinely directed in a path that was healthy, and more faith based I was able to deal with my personal relationships as well dealing with my heartache, and depression with my adoption choice. I went to church on Sunday and I felt like I was MEANT to be there that God was speaking to me. The reason that I say this is because the pastor spoke from the book of Ezra. That is my birth son's name and I knew that I was meant to be there. It couldn't have been more perfect unless he yelled from the top of his lungs "LISTEN ALICIA". He talked about mourning and how we mourn for loss, mourn about job situations, as well as mourning for the loss of happiness, etc. It really brought me forth in my decision and made me understand that what I did was okay and that the only person that can truly judge me is God himself. Others opinions of myself and my decision truly do not matter because they again, don't get it unless they are in it.

I want to tell everyone that I am in a better place now and I hope to talk about the happiness of adoption and the way that you can feel better about it if you are hurting.

During my search to find God and make him a part of my everyday life as well as my marriage I found my life verse. I want to share my life verse with all of you.

"I sought the Lord, and he answered me, He delivered me from all my fears." -Psalms 34:4

Quote of the Week: New Diet

"Start a new diet; 

feed your imagination, 

starve your fears."

~ Bob Goff

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Welcome 2011!