Be Who You Are

As a birth mother I have found there are many people who just do not understand all that goes along with this title. Some people may disagree with my choices, others may just not care. I believe there are people who just do not care. These people may think we made a decision to make our lives easier, and to them I say: “You have no idea!” I never know for sure the reaction I will get when I drop this big “bombshell” on people that I have met. I have a son who was placed for adoption when I was in high school. This is a part of my life and a part of who I am. If you don’t like it, disagree, or don’t care, then there is not a place for you in my life. This week I have chosen a quote that can be my motto at times:

“Be who you are and say what you feel, because those who mind don’t matter, and those who matter don’t mind.”
– Dr. Seuss

I know at times this can be difficult, especially if the people who do not understand are people that are close to us. I have been blessed by an amazing support group around me, who give me all their love and support. However, for me, I believe if this was not the case I would feel just the same. My life is too short, and my choices are too important to the person I am. If someone does not understand these important choices I have made for my son’s life, they cannot understand me. I agree, part of this “stubbornness” comes from my personality, along with years of growing and a strength that has developed because of my adoption story. I believe that all birth mothers deserve to be honored for their decision, and anyone who does anything less doesn’t deserve our fragile hearts or any of our emotions. There are people out there who will understand and love us for that part of our lives and what it has helped shape us into today. I know that I am proud to be a birth mom. I know I would not be the same person today. So  be strong, be open and honest, and you will see those people who are there for you!

 

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Answering a Simple Question

"Do you have any kids?"

It's a simple enough question.  People have asked me this question before and will most likely ask me again.  It's not impolite.  It's a fair question.  But sometimes I don't know how to answer it.  I usually answer based on who I'm speaking to.

Two nights ago when asked that question, my reply was, "Yes and no."  I was with the wife of the feature poet at the poetry group that my son's adoptive father is in charge of.  They had been staying with them.  They had spent a good amount of time with my son that day.   I explained the situation and that J was my biological son.  Like many who have struggled and wondered how raising a kid and doing everything was going to work, she understood and also understood the choice that I made.  We had a long conversation and completely understood each other.

But I haven't always answered this question so honestly.

Sometimes when in a supermarket or a big retail store, I'll smile at a little baby or I'll help a kid back to his/her mother or I'm in the toy aisle wondering what to get.  And at random times the question is asked, "Do you have any kids?"  Sometimes for time's sake or just for privacy's sake, I'll say, "No, not as of yet."

I make it a point not to lie to clergy, at least clergy who make it a point to be loving and create a safe environment for their congregation and visitors.  And given a nice person in a safe environment, I will tell my story.  But if I don't think I'm safe, I won't say it.  If I'm asked the question, "Do you have any kids?" I just reply, "No."

Doctor's forms are things I have gotten more familiar with lately.  And on reaching the question, "Have you given birth?" I have to answer yes.  But sometimes there's another question that says, "How many children live with you?"  At that point, I have to put down the number 0.

It's a sticky situation.  And for us, not the easiest of questions.  Back before I was 27, I would always answer, "No, no kids for me yet."  Now, my answer depends on who I'm with and what situation I'm in.  Sometimes I tell the truth.  And sometimes I lie.  But it's not really a lie.  Not exactly anyway.

How have you answered this question before?  I would like to hear about your experiences with this and your answers.

Telling everyone

Finding out you're pregnant is the scariest thing in the entire world, even if it is a planned pregnancy.  When I found out I was pregnant I was devastated but the hardest part for me was telling everyone.

I was the first in my family to go to school, and my second quarter in I found out I was pregnant by a guy I barely knew.  I almost immediately knew I wanted to do adoption.   I considered terminating for quite a while, but by the time I was 8 weeks along I knew I wanted to do adoption.  Parenting was never an option for me.  I didn't want to continue the cycle of unplanned pregnancy and struggling to make ends meet, my daughter deserved so much better than that.

My mother found out I was pregnant in an interesting way.  I made an appointment with a doctors back home because my plan was to go back home for the pregnancy and return back to school after placement.  I gave the doctors my moms address and they sent an appointment reminder in the mail.  My mom received it and opened it, saying she thought it was going to be a bill.

I was kind of relieved that she found out that way, I didn't have to look her in the eyes and tell her I was pregnant, but I still had to tell her about the adoption.  She took it pretty well in the beginning, but later on in the pregnancy she did everything she could to try to get me to parent.

Telling my friends was a really hard thing to do.  I was friends with all of the "crazy" kids back home.  We partied, drank and smoke anytime we could.  I was scared that I was going to be left behind in a sense.  I knew that we were going to lose touch and that they wouldn't necessarily be supportive.  I sat them all down and told them I was pregnant and doing an adoption.  Everyone was in shock, but generally supportive.  I did lose a lot of friends because there were so many things they didn't understand.  Nobody will ever fully understand the life of a birth mom unless they are a birth mom.

Telling the father was also extremely difficult.  I called him and told him over a six minute long phone call.  He told me that he was scared and he didn't want to be a father.  I told him that I was planning on terminating and he made me promise that I wasn't going to keep the baby.  I was 18 and he was 19, we were too young and too dumb to try and make it work.  When I told him a few weeks later I wanted to do an adoption, he was extremely upset.  He didn't like the thought of a child out there with his DNA.  He was scared that I would change my mind and then he would be stuck raising a baby with me.  There are so many fears in the beginning and now two years after finding out I was pregnant, it's crazy to think about how uncertain everything was.  I wish there was a way I could tell my younger self that everything was going to be okay and that E was going to have the best life I could ever imagine for her.

If you are in the beginning of your journey, just know that it gets better.  And whatever the decision you make for you and your child will be the right one for you. 

How did you tell everyone you were pregnant or that you were considering adoption?  Were they supportive of the pregnancy and your decision?

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The Dating Game

Okay, before I start into this piece, let me be as clear as possible: this is not a man hating piece.  The majority of my close friends are men.  I have known many good men in this life, including the father of my child who is still my best friend.

That said, dating, when being a birthmother, can be terrible.  After having my son, his father and I broke up about a year later.  Not really due to our son and all that happened.  More due to a matter of distance (we live in two cities over a hundred miles apart) and time and being in different places in our lives.  As I said, we are still the best of friends.  And maybe one day we'll be together again.  Just neither of us are certain at this point.

Since then, I have dabbled on a dating site, although my profile is set to "only looking for friends."  That's about as far into the dating realm as I have gone.  And I know it's partly due to fear.  It's hard enough for me to explain to new friends about my son and all the things entailed with him.  Trying to explain this to someone who I might be dating and when in the world to do that in the course of a date or a relationship, ugh, just sets my head spinning.  As I've said before, Ms. Manners did not write a chapter on how to best approach any of this.  But some days I really wish that she had.  I'd have some idea of what to do.  But like most every birthmother I know, I do the only thing I can: whatever makes sense at the time.

In the past month, I have had two birthmother friends have problems with their significant others.  The problems, while unique to us, were easy for my others friends to understand.  One shouldn't have to hide away another part of their life because it makes the significant other feel uncomfortable.  One shouldn't have to explain why they are still in contact with their children.  One should never be put in a position where essentially one must choose between the child they still love and the man they are dating.  And I hope one never has the fact that they are a birthmother thrown out at them in anger by their significant other when in the middle of a fight.  It's unfair and it's uncalled for.  And in the end, it most likely has absolutely nothing to do with what the fight was about in the first place.  It's just taking a part of ourselves and using it as a weapon against us.  This is something I hope no one ever has to experience.  But I know that others have, and will have it happen.  I just hope that if any of this does happen to you in a relationship, you are willing to leave that person.  I know it might break your heart.  But I know it would break more to cut off communication with your child (if there is any) and even worse when who you are is used against you because we cannot change who we are.  We are birthmothers.  And anyone who wants to be in our lives has to accept that fact or, unfortunately, walk away.

In my anger and confusion, I turned to a couple guy friends of mine.  I know that may sound a little odd, but what I really wanted was an outside perspective.  So I talked to them and asked them a couple important questions: Would you date a birthmother?  Would the fact that a woman is a birthmother and still in contact with her child bother you?  Both of them did say that while they would wish that the first time they were a father it would be the first time for their wife as well, sometimes it's simply not possible.  And in this instance, obviously, it wouldn't be possible.  But that would not be something that would bother them and by no means would be a deal breaker when getting into a relationship with someone.  As one of them said, we all come with baggage.  The only thing is whether or not you can deal with the baggage someone comes with.  If you can't, you should move on.  But if you can, then you should stay and see what happens.

All this said, I know it is disappointing when trying to get into a relationship with someone and it turns sour because they cannot accept who we are.  But my guy friends also agreed with me that if you want to be in a relationship with someone, you need to accept everything you are.  Certainly, some things can change.  But this is not one of them.  And any person worth your time, should be able to make peace with everything you are.

There are good guys out there.  I know several of them.  So be brave, keep looking forward, and know that, whoever you are, you are an amazing person.  Don't let the stupid boys get you down.

Coping 3: Talk to Others

Talking to others, at least for the first few months, can be really intimidating.  It was hard to talk to my family about it because they had lost something too.  It was hard to talk to my friends since hardly any of them knew and none of them were birthmothers.  Talking to anyone in the health care profession was a crap shoot to see what they would or wouldn't say in response to, "Yes, I've given birth, but that child doesn't live with me."  Talking to counselors was helpful, but none were birthmothers and hardly any had dealt with birthmothers before.  The one birthmother support group near me was a good two hour drive away and at the time didn't have many people in it.  I gave birth in July and it wasn't until February that I met any birthmothers that I felt like I could have a conversation with.

To be honest, I was kind of scared of talking to other birthmothers.  I was 27.  My child's father was still my boyfriend at the time and today is still my best friend.  The family I had picked was amazing about communication and sending photos and such.  There was no great drama.  There were no insane circumstances.  It was simply the matter of two people in the wrong place at the wrong time with not enough resources to help them.  I was worried about being the only one.

But when I did finally come to a meeting where there were other birthmothers, I realized one important fact: we are all completely different from each other.  No one's story matches the other's.  Everyone came to this in a different way.  Everyone had different reactions to it.  Everyone had different experiences with family, friends, co-workers, boyfriends, adoptive families.  Every single one of us is different.

The important thing, the thing that connects all of us, is that we are birthmothers.  However we came to it, whatever circumstances we were in, whoever we had to deal with, we all made a choice for our child.  We chose to place them with people that we had met recently.  We chose to be braver than we have ever been and chose a path most don't.  We chose to defy society, our friends, our families, and sometimes our own instincts, and make a choice that many will never understand.

But there are many who do.  And I encourage each and every one of you to talk to each other.  Go to support groups and talk to other birthmothers.  Talk to your friends.  Talk to your family.  Just talk to anyone and shine a light in this corner of the world that doesn't often get revealed.  A lot of birthmothers still live in shame and have stigma placed on them by society and, worst of all, family.  But at the end of the day, this isn't a shameful thing that we did.  This was the bravest thing we have probably ever done and possibly ever will do.  When the time came, we did what we knew was right for our children.  And that's all we could do.

It sounds trite to say we're all in this together, but we really are.  We've all been to the same place.  We all know the same pain.  And we are all here for each other.  That's one of the great things I've found about the birthmother community.  There is an unending well of support here.  And any of you who are new to all this.  Believe me.  We've all been there.  We know what it's like.  And you can talk to us any time you need to.

"Who is That?"

For any of us birth moms who receive pictures of our children it is hard to not want to show the whole world the amazing pictures that can help us get through a hard day. My phone screen saver has been my daughter since the day she was born and I know that it will most likely remain that way for a very long time. I don't think much of it because most often the person looking at my phone is me, so I never have to explain anything, and the friends who do look at my phone already know about my daughter.

The other day in one of my classes I was talking to a girl who I am casually friends with. We talk about class and homework and have hung out a few times but we definitely have not reached the point where I would bring up my daughter. Today I sat down in class and when I checked the time on my phone my screen saver was on and she saw  the picture of my daughter and said "Aw, who is that?". Honestly at the moment I was so upset that I had that picture up, I didn't really want to go into about the adoption and everything 3 minutes before my classed started but I didn't want to make up a lie and say she was a niece or something. In the back of my mind I also knew that this girl is raising her boyfriends daughter and she often complains about how the biological mom is a deadbeat. Having all this in mind, it made me very intimidated to talk about my story with her because I was
scared she would also label me as a deadbeat or someone who didn't care for my daughter.

I took a few seconds to answer and then I just said "Shes my birth daughter, I placed her for adoption last year and she is with a really amazing family." And of course after I said that there were a million more questions I could see that were about to explode out of her mouth. Most of them were understandable like "How long ago was it?", "How old is she?" and grew more ignorant with questions im sure some of us had heard  "Are you still with the father?" "Why?",  "Was it hard?". Honestly in the moment I wanted to scream at her. Of course it was hard, it was the hardest thing I have ever done in my entire life. What kind of a person do you think I am?

The ignorant questions from some people are extremely difficult to deal with. Sometimes I wish people could just think about things a little longer before they say them. I understand the questions, I would probably have questions too had I not been a birth mom. I cannot wait for the day where telling someone you're a birth mom isn't followed by a million personal questions about yourself and the situation.

Have you ever been in a similar situation? What kind of questions have you heard?

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Accepting who I am...

"I am a... birthmother.  Yes, I am a birthmother.  Hi, I'm a birthmother!  Yes, I'm a birthmother.  A birthmother is part of what I am.  That's not the only thing that I am, but that is part of it."

Welcome to my brain ladies.  And yes, it is just this nutty in here.

The above statement is kind of a rewind, a playback to a different point in time.  After placing my son for adoption, it was hard to even say to myself that I was as birthmother.  I had to spend a good amount of time getting used to the title myself.  It wasn't taking over my whole identity.  But it was now a part of me that was never going to go away.  And it was a part I needed to learn to accept.  So I spent a good amount of time practicing saying and explaining what I am now.

"I'm a birthmother.  My son was placed for adoption when he was born and it's an open adoption and it was the best decision for him at the time."

The early days were tough.  First there were medical professionals who aren't that difficult.  Then there were old friends.  Then new friends.  Employers.  Co-workers.  More new friends.

In the early days it almost all came out as one word: "I'mabirthmotherandmysonisfineandIgettoseehim."  Yeah, that was really clear.  The questions seemed invasive even though I answered with a smile.  And somewhere in the back of my head I was always worried that I was being silently judged for this.

But as time went on, it got easier.  I got less and less afraid of the reactions people would have as the good reactions far out weighed the bad.  I got used to the questions and am now able to tell the difference between those who just don't know and those who are trying to peck away at my decisions and defenses.  And these days if they are silently judging me, I do a passable job at not caring about it.  In the end it was my decision and not theirs.  They were not there and therefore have no say in what I did.

Telling people that I'm a birthmother, to this day, is a gamble.  And it's one that for now I'm still willing to play.  I am more confident now in who I am and what I did and why I did it.  Those who try to argue with me are very calmly told the facts and what would have happened had things gone differently.  If still not convinced, I move on and try to put them behind me.  The simple fact is this is not going to change.  This is a part of who I am now.  It's something I will have to deal with every single day.  And those who know me and want to know everything there is to know, they need to know and accept this too.

We shouldn't be ashamed of being birthmothers.  But I do completely understand that desire to just push it away and not deal with it.  Sometimes it's necessary when dealing with people who are closed-minded or judgemental.  But other times, it is something that needs to be said.  I hope all of you find acceptance from everyone you talk to about this.  And I am with you when people can't understand and treat you poorly.  But do remember this: you should never be ashamed of being everything that you are.  And that includes being a birthmother.

I am a librarian, a writer, a teacher, a musician, a knitter, a dreamer, a thinker, and a birthmother.  But most of all.  I am human and deserving of respect just like everyone else.  None of these things make me any less than anyone else.

That's the Dumbest Question I've Ever Heard...

I call myself the queen of the stupid question.  I say this because when I'm learning something new, I often have to have it explained to me two or three times.  And I find it easier to look stupid and say, "Could you tell me that piece just one more time?  I'm just drawing a blank today," than struggle on and on and possibly do something wrong.  But then there are other stupid questions, like the ones I and other birthmothers get.  Sometimes people are well-meaning, sometimes they just don't know, and other times, I'm just not sure what they are thinking or why they are being so judgmental.  Here's a couple examples for your perusal.

"Do you have visitation rights?"

This is one that I heard.  The person was actually trying to be nice.  And granted, that's what happens in a divorce or a custody battle.  And I really had to struggle to not be a jerk.  But I did reply with, "This is not a divorce.  I signed away all rights to my child.  I signed the papers and he's no longer mine; he's theirs."  They looked at me like I had snakes growing out of my ears.  I wasn't sure how I was not being clear or how this didn't make sense.   This was an adoption.  Not a "he'll just stay over there until I get my act together and I can get him back" kind of situation.  This was permanent.  And I've had to spend a good amount of time explaining that, especially it seems to people who are mothers themselves.

"When will they tell them who their "real" parents are?"

Okay, first of all, my son's adoptive parents ARE his real parents.  They have been raising him for the past four years and doing an excellent job of it too.  He calls them Momma and Daddy.  That makes them his parents.  My ex and I are his birthparents.  Very simple.  As for when he will be told, that is a discussion that I've had with them and we are working on it.  With other birthmothers I've heard different stories.  Every kid is different.  Every set of parents is different.  And we all deal with things different ways.  And there's absolutely nothing wrong with that.  When he knows the whole crazy story is going to be a long way down the line.  Along the way he'll be told he's adopted.  That he was in my tummy.  And that all of us love him very very much.  And for him, this will be his normal.

"Are you sure this is what's good for your kid?"

I beg of you, resist the urge to slap the person who asks you this.  I know it is tempting.  Believe me.  But assault charges are a lot less fun and more expensive.  Now, obviously, this person has never had any experience with adoption and more than likely has bought into the "the family must stay together for the good of the child" kind of myths that we all battle with.  I know that I did the right thing for my child.  Others know this too.  I'm not saying that I don't have doubts.  Every other day I have to remind myself of why and all the reasons that this was the best decision.  But in the end, yes, this was the best thing for my child.  And if they can't see it, then ask them as nicely as you can to keep their opinions to themselves.

(Most often when upset over my child) "Shouldn't you be over this by now?  This was your choice after all."

Again, please resist any and all temptations to do anything other than explain very firmly why this is a situation that will continue to be difficult.  Placing a child for adoption is not something anyone heals over quickly.  And along the way there are more wounds and more things that one misses.  Healing over this takes years, as I've illustrated on this very blog.  And even now there are still bad days for me.  My only suggestion there is to either try to explain this, or relocate and find other friends who have historically shown more tact and understanding when it comes to your situation.

Other choice questions that I collected in writing this were:

"Are the parents afraid you're doing to steal him/her away?"

"Can't you get him/her back one day?"

"Did you get paid for him/her?"

To which the obvious answers are, "No.  No.  And what are you talking about??  NO!"

In the end, some people are well-meaning and don't understand.  Some people just have no tact at all.  And some people just want to push other people's buttons.  I certainly learned that when I was waiting tables.  My best suggestion for every dumb question you get, try to explain as best you can.  If they don't get it, ask them to keep their questions and opinions to themselves and move on.  It isn't fun.  It isn't pleasant.  But it's one of the unfortunate things we have to live with.

Do share your worst questions in the comments or give your best (or craziest) answers to the ones that were listed above.  And I hope you all have a wonderful weekend!

Good Drama

There's a show that was once on television called "Northern Exposure" about a tiny little quirky town
in Alaska.  During the run of the show, the character Shelly gets pregnant.  At her baby shower all the other women are talking about their horror stories and it freaks Shelly out.  So she goes for a walk in the woods and meets Mother Nature.  I said it was a quirky town, remember?  She, Mother Nature, Queen Victoria, and Medea have a big talk about motherhood and how it changes everything in a mother's life.  But Mother Nature makes a very good point.  She tells Shelly that the other women talk about the horror stories so much because "they make good drama.  I mean you never hear about the baby who just popped out."

After being pregnant, giving birth, placing my child for adoption, and then going out into the world to carefully tell my story, I found that people were surprised over and over again.  Most of them had never heard a "good" adoption story.  All they had ever heard were the bad ones.  The ones were there is a fight over the kid, or the kid tries to find his parents only to be rejected, or even just the plot line of the latest Lifetime made-for-TV movie.  Everyone was shocked by my story because it was a good one.  And it continues to be a good one.

At some point, a friend told me once again about how all they ever hear are the bad stories about adoption and that it was so rare to hear about the good ones.  I was badly confused because ever since I placed my child for adoption, I've only heard more and more good stories.  Then I remembered this quote: "they make good drama."  That's when I realized why so many have heard the bad stories, but very few of the good.  It's a very simple reason.  Those stories make good drama.  The stories like mine about the adoptive parents and the birthmother who always get along aren't good drama.  People in general see it as a good reason to still have faith in humanity.  But not much more.  And my story is not fodder for a made-for-TV movie the will have everyone biting their nails and wondering who should get the child.  There was no struggle, there was no last minute change of heart.  My son went from my arms to theirs and that was it.

I still go about and tell my story to many who are often surprised over and over again.  A few have heard good stories or were even part of a good story.  And those people are the best to meet.  But I find they are often few and far between.  Most everyone else has heard the bad stories, the horror stories, the ones that get passed around and around and are eventually accepted as the one and only truth.  Which isn't fair to the many many stories that are good.

I encourage everyone, if your story is good, please tell it.  You'll hear lots of people say how they heard about this terrible story or that.  But just be patient.  Some have just never heard the good stories.  Not their fault.  They're just not considered "good drama."  But that doesn't make them any less viable or any less important.

Friendships Changing Because of Adoption

One thing I did not initially think about when I decided to place my daughter for adoption was how my friends were going to act and the way that friendships evolve and even end because of adoption. 

When I first found out I was pregnant the only person who was really on my side was my best friend Kari. She listened to me and did her best to help me get through one of the hardest choices of my life. Even though she was hesitant of my choice, she was there for me no matter what. Our friendship has grown through the birth of my little girl and we are closer than ever. She was there for me no matter what and continues to be to listen to me whenever I need someone.

There were other friends however weren't as supportive. The little comments of "why would you do this" and "you could make it work" are so heartbreaking to hear during your time of need. Or even in the beginning when friends tell you that continuing the pregnancy is a mistake. Some friends act this way because they are worried for you, but some just flat out think you are wrong for doing this and those are the hardest ones to deal with.

After the birth of my daughter I had a close friend make negative comments about people who chose to have more children post placement. It was her opinion that the child placed for adoption will become extremely jealous of the children that are parented later in life. It was almost as though she felt that people who place should not have any more children in the future. It really upset me that someone so close to me could say such hurtful things about a choice that was so difficult to make. Yes, I want to have more children some day and I do not need anyone around telling me that I am selfish for having more children. 

Since the birth of my daughter I have limited myself from the people who try to put down my decision and my relationship with my best friend has grown through this choice. I have also had other friends who have rose to the occasion and become extremely supportive and love hearing about the updates almost as much as I do. 

It's not always easy to distance yourself from the wrong people though. During this time I felt like I needed these friends and maybe I was in fact making a bad choice. In the end however I had the realization that I was making the best choice for my child and I, and anyone who didn't think so could just go away.

The most important thing I've discovered is to stand up for yourself no matter what. No one can tell

 you how to live your life, and honestly this is your decision and no one else is going to have to live with the aftermath in the same way you will. The one piece of advice you I wish I had heard earlier was to surround yourself with people who want to help. Be with people who love you and are there for you no matter what. Placing a child is no easy task, and having people around who are putting you down only makes it harder. 

Have any of you had friendships grow through the placement of a child? Have you ever had a friendship dwindle or even end? 

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Extending Grace

Sometimes I do things that are really stupid. Anyone with me? Just the other day I was running errands early one morning. My family was still asleep at home and I was getting caught up after being away. I went to a store and saw someone I knew there. I'll call her Bobbie Jo because I'm feeling silly today. Anyway, I spotted Bobbie Jo nearby. My first response was a smile and a "hello!"

But when I thought again I started thinking of the way she treated me the last time I saw her. She was rude. She acted like I was invisible. So what did I do? Well I ignored her of course! Because that's the grown-up thing to do.

Fast forward ten minutes and I see her at the next store I go to. What did I do? Did I say "hello!"? Did I act like a grown-up given a second chance? No way! I continued acting like a child and completely ignored her.

Now I seriously doubt Bobbie Jo saw me at either of those two places. And even if she did it's not important. I can't control her. But I sure can control me. And I'm ashamed to say that I did not take the high road and I did not offer her grace. I ignored her and instead of building a bridge I built nothing.

I know women are hard to deal with. But we need each other. This body of birthmoms needs each other. Let's extend grace to each other even if we have received snark in return. Let's smile and hug each other even if our last meeting was not friendly. We are all in this together and whether we like it or not, we are who we are stuck with.

Pep talk done! Next time I will smile and try my best to be a grown-up.

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Take Care of Yourself

This post is really for everyone, those who have just placed and those who placed years ago.  And before I begin, I make one plea to all of you: please, take care of yourselves.

I got to see my son on a Saturday this year for his birthday.  I saw him again the following Tuesday.  His parents and I got together for dinner so that we could chat and watch him play in the huge sandbox at the restaurant that we had picked.  It was just time to have some conversation and talk about the fact that my son will be starting school this year.

Just like that, the weight of four years gone past had hit me in the chest and I realized that time was flying away from me much faster than I ever thought it would.  Add to this friends seeing pictures of him and once again exclaiming to me how much he looks like me.  He still does look like me.  As I watch him get older, I see myself in him.  I see my mannerisms.  I see my creativity.  I see my attitude.  I see my stubbornness.  This visit hurt.  And it hurt in ways I hadn't expected.

Every time I part company with him, I have to turn away before I watch them drive away.  It’s because of the first time he left me.  I simply couldn't watch them drive away from the hospital the day they took him home because I knew I would run after their van trying to get him back.  It was something I had to force myself to do.  Once home, I had to heal and learn how to be me again.

Part of this was learning how to actually care for myself.  I believe that I've mentioned before that I was living in my parents’ house at the time.  Part of the downside to that was that we were all hurt.  And we all deal with hurt in very different ways.  While my mother wanted me to talk to her, I wanted nothing more than to be left alone.  This was mostly due to the fact that talking to her would mean her then telling me how it affected her and effectively making me feel insanely guilty about everything, which wasn't what I needed at the time.  Much like Terri has pointed out in her recent posts about boundaries, for the first time, I had to put down boundaries with my parents.  I had to say to them, “No, you don’t get to talk about this with me.”  They were hurt and they were upset and I don’t know that they ever fully understood.  But it doesn't really matter anymore.  It’s been a while now since all of that happened.  Slowly I began writing again.  I found complicated knitting patterns and tackled them.  I looked at pictures of my son as he grew by the day.  I planned visits and I cried tears with the door shut and I learned how to survive and later, how to live.

Over time I have learned better ways of taking care of myself.  I've learned that talking to trusted friends and shutting myself up for a few days will always help me close those wounds that have been reopened during a visit.  I've learned that in the days after the visit I always need to be careful about where I expend my energies.  If I’m not careful, the emotional and mental hang-over from seeing him can last days and days.  That’s what’s happened this time.  My summer has been a very busy one, and the fall only promises more.  But I know it’s not just the business.  This visit really brought home to me the fact that my son is growing up faster than I ever imagined he would.  This weekend will be less busy than the last several have been.  But there are still things to do.  And most of all, I have to remember to carve out time to rest, reflect, and heal once again.

I hope that all of you feel less alone when you read this.  No matter how many years go by, this is always a difficult thing to live with.  In order to survive this, we always need to remember to seek out help when we need it and to learn how to take care of ourselves.

Boundaries are hard work!

I know I’ve been on a boundaries and limit-setting path lately but only because that’s where I am in my life. While I don’t want to beat a dead horse, after spending the weekend with my mom something very important came to me and I had to share it with you. I’ve talked about the types of boundaries and who to set limits with. We’ve also talked about moving the line when needed and how to reinforce those limits.

But I have neglected the obvious and it’s this: Keeping boundaries is h-a-r-d work. A week with my mother has served as a good reminder. It’s hard work to be ok with constant discomfort. My whole weekend with my mom was awkward because I refuse to give in to her demands that I live a certain way and speak a certain way. It is uncomfortable to constantly watch someone you love bang their head against your boundary.

Furthermore, it is painful to feel the distance between you and that family member or that person you love because you refuse to give in to whatever they want you to do or say or be.

Why am I telling you this? Because if you feel this way, then you are doing it exactly right! Yay for you! I can tell you after a week of living in this constant state of being on guard I am exhausted to the point of tears. I am sad that I feel so far removed from my mom. But I am proud of myself for holding my ground. I feel excited that I am healthy enough to stand up for myself with someone who says she loves me acts that way.

You are not alone. You can do this. You may not get it right the first time. Or the sixteenth. But keep trying. Don’t give up. You can do it!

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Weird Conversations

In the four years since my child was born, I’ve had some weird conversations.  I don’t mean having the conversations one does about my experience as a birthmother.  And I don’t mean having to patiently explain that this isn’t a divorce, this isn’t a custody thing, and this isn’t temporary.  I signed away my rights and my child is gone from me.  But conversations that I simply never expected to have.  And sometimes, I had those conversations because the people who came to me didn’t know where else to go or who else to tell it to.

Several months ago, a friend of mine came to me in tears.  Her first words to me were, “I wish I had placed my daughter for adoption instead of keeping her and giving her this life.”  My friend is a single mother.  When we talked about my son and all the choices made, she told me she had considered adoption, but just couldn’t.  She was in a very different situation than the one I had been in so I didn’t fault her for her choices.  When she came to me with this sudden statement, I calmly reminded her that while she is a single mom, she is keeping a roof over her child’s head, her child is happy, well fed, and doing quite well as far as I can see.  Then I asked what prompted this.

As it turns out, her daughter, who is now seven I believe, is starting to figure out that not everyone just lives with mom.  Most people live with mom AND dad.  Her father has never been an abusive or bad influence in her life, just a very absent one.  And because she is seven, she just doesn't understand everything right now.  I assured my friend that this was not a case of her being a bad mother or making the wrong decision when her daughter was born.  This was simply a matter of a bad day and a girl who is growing up.  And as every child grows up, they want to fit in.  She bemoaned not giving her child a normal life which I had to counter with,

“Hon, MY kid isn't going to have a normal life either!  Yes, he has a mom and dad who are at home and care about him.  But he also has a birthmother he gets to see a lot, a birthfather that I hope he will see more of in the future, and sooner or later he’s going to have to reconcile all of that in his little brain and fit it together so that he understands.  His life isn't normal, no one’s life is normal.  The best you can do is be the best parent you can for your kid.  And I already know you are doing your very best.”

Then recently, I had another conversation that I never expected to have.  I was showing a long-time friend pictures of my son from the birthday party earlier that day.  That was when she told me she’s had a long-held desire to act as a surrogate for a couple at some point in her life.  I've known her a long time, and while I was slightly surprised by her confession, it didn't really shock me.  What kind of shocked me was what she said next.

“Would you-since you ended up being an unwilling surrogate essentially-would you be angry with me for doing that?”

“No!  No, I wouldn't be mad at all.  I would caution you.  It is a very taxing thing on the mind and the body and the emotions and even knowing the child isn't going to be yours, you’ll still have a connection to that child and you will still have something growing inside you and it’s going to have an effect on you.  But no, if that’s something you want to do for a couple, I would not be mad at you at all.  And if you wanted me to help you out with the emotional aftermath, I will be there for you.  If you want me to be around before that, or just keep away, or whatever you want me to do, I’d do it.”

She nearly cried.  I nearly cried.  But I was, once again, speaking in all honesty.  For some parents, that’s the route they want to go, and I understand it completely.  I think my friend was really worried about coming to me to complain about her aching back, her swollen ankles, the emotional aftermath, and how easily I could turn and say to her, “You asked for it.  Don’t complain to me.”

I could do that.  But I can’t.  Even if she did ask for it and I didn't, I couldn't be that mean to someone who is doing a truly wonderful and beautiful thing for someone else.  I try very hard not to compare people and their lives and situations to each other.  What one person can survive, others may not be able to.  Our situation is one that most can’t understand unless they have had to make the choices themselves.

What weird and strange conversations have you had with those in your life who know about your kids?  Has anyone else had weird conversations like this?  Or am I the lucky only one?  Ha ha!  It won’t bother me if it’s true.  I’ve been privy to many facts of my friends’ lives that others will never hear of.  Mostly this is because I’m known for my non-judgmental stance to almost everything and my ability to be a secret keeper.  But I know I never would have had these conversations were I not a birthmother.

Life with Limits

As you know, I've kind of been on this boundaries kick lately. And you may be sick of it. But if you really want to know why, it's because boundaries, limits, or lines are not something I learned one time and then put into practice and never looked at again. I am constantly looking at my perimeters to assess if they are working properly or if they are too loose or too rigid.

Of course I'm talking about my mom again. That relationship has been the constant one in my life that I have had to keep a close eye on. And even this week, I find myself pulling my boundaries in a little tighter around me where she is concerned. Which is a very important point about boundaries: they can change. It takes time to figure out the right boundary or limit for each person or situation in your life.

Some of my friends know everything about me and have the freedom to question my actions or motivations. Other friends know what I want them to know and nothing more. With my mom, well, big sigh, I love her to pieces. I want us to have a relationship that we don't have. And maybe never will. But it is important to me to have her as part of my life. So in order to have her as part of my life, I have had to be very deliberate with my limits.

For example,  the strongest boundary I've had to draw between us is the situation with my birth daughter. Of course my mom was part of my life when I became pregnant unexpectedly as a teen. But I didn't find her to be very supportive of my pregnancy or life afterwards. While she continued to be my mother, I moved on emotionally to where I could find the help and the healing that I needed.

During those years after I moved out on my own, I figured out for myself how to cope and how to grieve and how to survive the loss of my daughter. I didn't do it alone; God put people in my path to show me how to live a healthy life and how to grieve but still go on. I do not consider myself to be a self-made woman by any means. But I am strong and I do know myself. I know what I need and what I don't need.

But because my mom missed out on those years when I was grieving, learning, healing, and growing, she doesn't understand those things about me. And now she wants to. And it's too late. And there is no happy middle ground on which we can meet. So the line around all things birthmom in my life is squiggly and may remind you at times of an electrically charged fence. When she just leaves that area of my life alone, all is well. But when she doesn't and I have to defend it, I do. And she doesn't like it.

I know I'm not alone in struggling with limit-setting in my life. What is your hardest area? How do you draw the line and defend it?

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Hold the Line

As you know, I have recently passed through Birthday Season. Now I would like to report that I have once more survived another birthday round unscathed. There have been years that have been peaceful. There have been years when the emotions didn't get the best of me. Unfortunately, that is not my story this year.

If you are joining us at the retreat in May, which I hope you are, I'm planning to host a breakout session on Boundary-setting. That workshop will include the shenanigans of this past week. I mean, I don't want to spoil it for you, but really? Is it really necessary to revisit these things after more than two decades? Apparently so.

And when someone in your circle steps over the boundary, the next logical question is What do I do now? Just so you know, I may be hosting this breakout session, but it's only so that I can relearn this stuff between now and then, because honestly, I'm stuck right now. This person, this boundary-breaker, is an important figure in my life and I'm stuck. They would like to just keep moving forward like nothing happened, but I can't do that. Not only did they step over the line, but they went so far as to call me names and say things to me that aren't true.

So in your experience, what have you done? How do you hold the line while keeping the relationship? It's so tempting to turn my back and walk away. But I'm not doing that. I made up my mind a long time ago that this person was going to be part of my life and I'm sticking to it.

Commercial over. Hope to see you in May. In the meantime, your advice is appreciated.

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Bridging the Gap

So the question on my mind today is this: How do we as birthmoms, authors, and/or speakers share our message without being pushy and without shoving our stories and emotions into another person's face?

Recently I've become part of a new group unrelated to adoption. It's always interesting to see how each person's story will unfold and be told during the course of a group. This particular group will be together for the next 30 weeks and slowly but surely we are learning more and more about each other.

A couple weeks ago, the topic of the group carried on into the weekly blog. And since it was relevant, I forwarded the blog on to a couple group members. And those group members responded positively to what I wrote about.

Here comes the weirdness.... no one mentioned the 'birthmom' part of the blog. No one asked what it meant, what it was for, if I was one, why I was blogging on that type of site, blah blah blah. So now I'm left to assume that although they have read a post of mine on a birthmom blog site, they do not necessarily know about that part of me. Or maybe they read that part of the site and don't care. Or don't know what to say. Or think I'm a total moron.

So that's what's on my mind this day. Of course, the Halloween sugar high hasn't hit yet, so that could change. Have a great, scary night!

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"Do You Have Children?"

Photo: © 2010 Jupiterimages Corporation

Recently a question between birth mothers came up:

What's your "go to" answer for questions like "Do you have children" and "How many children do you have"?

Before I married, this question was very difficult for me. I would have loved to be the person who could confidently acknowledge my pregnancy with R and explain about the adoption. Sadly, I wasn't that person. Occasionally, depending on the level of trust I had with the person asking, I might tell the story, but more often than not, I would reply that I simply didn't have children.

I feared that I would make the other person uncomfortable. Sometimes I wondered if they would question why I would tell them that, maybe thinking I expected some sort of response or attention from them. 

As the years went by I, in one sense, became more open - open on Facebook, getting involved in various adoption communities, telling close but new acquaintances - yet at the same time, I became more hesitant. My husband preaches, we have one son together and a daughter on the way (any day now!). People assume that's the whole story; they have no reason to believe anything else about me. 

Is that easy for me? Definitely not. The first year we came to this church, away from our family and friends, was the first year I went without an update for R's birthday. Not having the understanding of those near us was very difficult and I would have benefited from opening up to our new friends.  

So, we're still navigating the waters I suppose. My husband thankfully fully supports openness about R, and now that the adoption has become more open, who knows how our lives will play out. We intend on our own children knowing they have a half-brother and we still plan to stay active in the adoption community, so I have reason to believe I may work up to being more candid when asked "How many children do you have?"

On the other end, a friend of mine shared her own experiences. You may relate more to her feelings on the matter:

"I usually share it casually with anyone who asks. I'm comfortable talking about it and it just doesn't feel right when I say "no." It is a huge part of me and my life and it feels like a lie when I don't acknowledge it. It makes some people uncomfortable when they find out sometimes, probably bc they just don't know what to say, but others show genuine interest and it always gives me an opportunity to share a little bit and shed some positive light on something that most people just don't understand and I really want more people to more comfortable talking about it. Of course it is really personal and some days are harder than others, so sometimes I give a simple no. & I have had plenty of people say the "wrong" thing and have felt judged more than I would if I didn't share, but it feels good to be open about it."

So, what's your answer?