When You Get a Chance to Help

It's very rare that I get an opportunity to help my son in some meaningful way.  Recently an opportunity to do just that landed in my lap.  It took me a while to act on it, but after thought and consideration, I asked for a lunch meeting with my son's adoptive mother.

Lately, my son has been having some problems in school.  The school and teachers have been trying to figure it out.  His adoptive mother and father had both talked about it with me.  And that's when I started noticing glaring similarities between myself as a child and my son.  So we decided to talk.

I explained how noise can be fine, but too much noise gets on my nerves.  I like hanging out with friends, but I don't like crowds.  I'm now an adult, so I have the choice to walk away from situations that stress me out.  And if I can't walk away, there are sites where I can listen to ambient noise to block things out.  I can snap my fingers and try to breathe so that I don't lash out.  Then get away from the situation that is stressing me out as quickly as I can.  But again, I'm an adult so I have that choice.  School wasn't always a great thing for me.  Mostly because you have very few choices when you are in school.  When I was a teenager, I would wear headphones in the halls between classes so I wouldn't just smack everyone I walked past.  Band was a solace for me.  I explained how there's a lot of sound there, of course, but it was sound that was organized.  And in the middle of the band it's almost like being wrapped in a cocoon of sound.  Drumline was especially good for this.  As you can imagine, almost twenty teenagers with drums, xylophones, and cymbals can be loud.  But again, it was ordered sound.  It was sound that made sense.  And it was always so loud in there that not only was it a cocoon, it was the only thing I could think about anymore.  When playing with the drumline, it was the only thing on my mind, and the two or three lines of thought I always have going finally went quiet.

But currently, my son is 5.  I explained to her that I feel rather useless in this situation since much of my coping involves things only adults can do.  But she assured me that hearing what it's like is helping her to understand and giving her ideas on what to do.  She asked me questions about odd things he's said and I found that I could give her reasons and explanations because I remember having those problems and I still have some of them myself.  I did apologize that some of these reasons don't really make logical sense.  But they are reasons.  Whether they make sense or not, I know that's what going on in his head.  He just lacks the vocabulary to express what is going on.

Like I said before, it's rare that I get the chance to help my son in any way that's meaningful.  But, it seems that this time, I can.  I've started therapy again and with their help will hopefully think of other things that will help my son cope.  The worst part for me right now is that I remember what this was like and I remember how much it isolated me and drove me nuts.  But I keep trying to tell myself, he has me, he has his parents, there will be test results coming in soon, and possibly a therapist for him.  He's not going to have to suffer like I did and like my father did.  We can offer insight and hopefully this will help.

Living through the Heartache

After talking  last week about milestones, I have spent some time reflecting on ways I cope with these hard times and work through the emotions. My son’s first day of school is tomorrow! I cannot believe how quickly he has grown and we are at one of those huge markers in his life. It has definitely hit me hard facing this moment alone and not being there by his side. I have had to look into myself and at those around me for different ways to help get me through this time. I have found over these past few years that there are certain things I can do that just help me when I feel like I may slip into a deep sadness. Other people may have different things they do that help them, but for me allowing myself to feel involved and to feel the emotions I have has been very helpful.

When my son was born and we all agreed on an open adoption plan, I promised myself I would always allow myself to stay involved. While it can be difficult at times when I feel as though his family sees me as a burden or I worry about trying too hard, the reality has always been that it brings happiness to my son. I have sent little gifts in the mail, cards on special days, or even for no reason at all. I have made special gifts which include pictures of me and the rest of his birth family to show him all the people who love him. Anything I can think of that gives him a special surprise and helps him to know he is always on my heart; these are things that give me peace. It is just something little, but has always been a helpful way for me to show him my love, even when I cannot be present. For his first day of school I prepared a little backpack filled with after school or lunch snacks with special notes on them, along with a few school supplies and special pictures my girls drew for him. I always take pictures of the gifts I send, so that someday, when he no longer has these items, he can still have a memory of those special things I tried to do for him.

I have also allowed myself the opportunity to celebrate! I have been blessed to spend every birthday with my son, and we celebrate special holidays, but often not on the exact day. When I am away from him on special days or events I allow myself to celebrate here with my family, even though Aidan is not here with us. I feel like I have every right to feel happy for special events in Aidan’s life, and doing something special gives me that sense of being included, and including my girls and other family as well. This doesn’t make the pain go away, but it gives me something to do, and gives me some peace. So tomorrow as Aidan wakes up and goes off to school, I will take my girls out for a special breakfast. We will talk about “bubba” and pray that he has an amazing day at school. I will enjoy the pictures I receive and I will celebrate the day with my girls. My heart will still ache, but this is my journey, and part of surviving it is learning to live with the heartache. 

 

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Good for the Soul

As I mentioned in my post last week, I just had a visit with my son this past weekend. Words cannot describe how thankful I am for these bimonthly visits with him. We had the opportunity to spend a full day doing exciting things and spending priceless time with him. While there are definitely some hard moments during visits, they are so life-giving to me and my family. We treasure each and every moment and carry them with us until we are able to visit again. It is so amazing to be able to watch Aidan as he grows and to see the growing relationship between him and his sisters, my parents, my husband, and of course, with me. I think the feelings surrounding a visit can only be understood by birth mothers who are involved in an open adoption. There are unique relationships with each situation, but I believe there are similar feelings for us all. I am still at a place of greater peace following my visit, and for me, I am just trying to enjoy this time and know that I have just seen my beautiful baby and shown him all my love, and I cannot wait to see him again.

There are always special moments between Aidan and I on each one of our visits. As he has gotten older they are fewer, mostly because he is so busy and excited to run and play he is not as interested in cuddles and sweet talk. However, I am always so blessed by the times when we share a special look with each other in which our eyes meet, and it is as if he understands everything I feel and our hearts are one. When I hold him in my arms and he locks his arms around my neck it is as if the world stops for a second. There is nothing better. I see his love for me and my family when I watch him interact with my girls. He constantly reaches for my sweet Ava’s hand, and they laugh and play together like they have never been separated. He laughs and plays with my younger daughter Olivia and gives her the sweetest hugs at random. I have no doubt that he feels a special connection with his sisters, and this brings me great joy. I can see the love in his eyes, and no matter how confusing things may be, or how our relationship grows and changes over the years, I am confident in the love that we have shared. We have so many memories together already. We share something I cannot explain, but it is beautiful. Each time I have the chance to be with him it gives me strength for the times when I cannot. He is everything to me. He is my angel. He is my girls’ “bubba.” He is a gift. I am so blessed to watch him as he grows and to continue to share my love with him.

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Preparing for a Visit

My open adoption is incredibly open. I never knew exactly how it would all play out, but it quickly evolved into a very open relationship with a great deal of active involvement. Currently I am blessed to see my son every other month. I will be leaving for my visit this month, so I thought it was a good time to reflect on some of those feelings and emotions that arise when getting ready for a visit, during, and following.

In the days and weeks leading up to a visit I am incredibly excited. There is nowhere I would rather be, so knowing I have that opportunity coming is so great! I am always anxious counting down the days and begin planning and packing days before! I'm so blessed that my family also has the chance to visit, so I keep myself busy preparing with my girls for a long trip.

There are also some nerves that arise when thinking about visiting. It often depends on things surrounding the visit, such as my own emotions in life, or the adoptive parents recent behavior. I often fear that things will be different this visit, or he won't be excited to see me. Thankfully, I have not yet experienced this in our five years of visits. Our relationship has continued to grow and be one that brings so much joy to us both. I pray this will always be the case. I often worry about my girls and how my son will react to them. I don't want their feelings to be hurt if he doesn't seem interested or is too busy playing to focus on them. Again, this has not been the case, but as a mother to all these beautiful children, the worry is still there. Despite these worries my heart is so overjoyed knowing I will be together with my baby again. It is the only opportunity I have to feel my heart at its fullest. When we are visiting Aidan I have all of my children in one place around me and my heart is full!

My husband, my parents, or my other family members have all told me they can see a difference. Not that I am sad all the time in my daily life or anything to that extreme, but the fullness of my heart just radiates from me. I know it because I can feel it and others have seen it. I can also see a difference in my girls. They are always happy children and don't struggle in daily life, but when they are with their "bubba" I see a new spark within them. They all run and play together as if they have never spent a day apart. They laugh and hug and love each other as any mother would wish for her children.

These moments are life giving. They bring so much joy to my family, and do wonders for my heart. My spirit is always lifted and I feel like I can do anything. It is a feeling like no other! I have often wondered if this feeling is unique to the birthmom experience or if mothers who parent each child feel this way all the time? If so, I hope they treasure it! I believe in many ways that this is just another gift given to us birth mothers, for we have known such a great loss, we have the gift of feeling joy and love more fully.

After a visit there are many tears shed as I have to leave, yet again. It hurts to again be left with that empty place in my heart, but it is worth it. I would never give up the opportunity to spend even a minute with
My son, even if I knew I would cry thousands of tears as I leave. We are all sad to leave, my girls, my husband, my parents, but we are all so happy for the time we have shared. Each moment we build priceless memories, and they help carry us through until our next visit. These times give me the opportunity to see the amazing life that I brought into the world, and to treasure the place I have been given in his life. My heart is happy as I anticipate this weekend and the joys my son brings to the world each day! 

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Philemon

I don't talk about God and religion very much because I have a strange relationship with both.  My pastor is, however, happy that there's at least a relationship.  I never have liked taking orders. And I'm not one to judge others for their actions or how they live their lives.  Thus I don't always do well in organized religion.  I do believe.  I just don't always like the people who call themselves believers.  My guess is many of you can understand what I'm saying.  I'm really just saying this at the beginning so you understand where I come from on this.  Sometimes, God can put something in my path that makes me furious.  And other times, He brings me something that helps.

A few years ago, my pastor decided to start up a bible study.  It was a long one.  Took about ten months.  At the very beginning we had to read a couple of short passages.  One was to read the book of Philemon.  If you're wondering what in the world that is, don't worry, so did everyone else.  But it is a book in the New Testament; right between Titus and Hebrews.  In my bible, it's about a page.  In some shorter bibles, it's two pages, either facing each other or front and back.  There's only one chapter and has a total of 25 verses.  That's it.  Takes about five minutes to read.  It's shortness is probably why it is often over-looked.

It's one of the letters that Paul wrote while in prison.  While there he wrote a letter to his friend, Philemon.  It starts out like most letters do, "Hope all is well... Timothy and the others send their love... yadda yadda yadda..."  But then he starts to speak of a man who he is currently travelling with.  The man's name is Onesimus.  Onesimus was a slave owned by Philemon who ran away.  Somewhere along the line, Paul and Onesimus met up and Onesimus became a Christian and began following Paul and helping him.  Paul, in the letter, shows great affection and love for Onesimus, but knows that he needs to return to Philemon and answer for running away.  So Paul is writing a letter to Philemon explaining what had happened and for Philemon to welcome Onesimus back into his home.  The verse that struck me the most in this chapter is the twelfth verse:

"I am sending him -who is my very heart- back to you."

To this day I'm not quite certain how to explain how I feel when I read that verse.  But every time I read it, all I think of is my son.  He is my very heart.  And I had to send him back.  Not to slavery, nor to the family that I took him from; obviously I did neither.  I just had to send him back to the forces that gave him to me in the first place.  And from there it had to be decided to what to do.

Being a birthmother has a lot to do with faith.  Faith that the birth will go well.  Faith that the people we give our children to will take care of them.  Faith that they will keep in touch with us and honor us.  Faith that everyone around us will at least let us do what needs to be done even if they don't agree with it.  And faith that one day our children will understand why we did this.

When I placed my child for adoption, a lot of the future I was taking on faith.  It was scary. Definitely the hardest and most frightening time of my life.  But I knew this was the only thing to do.  There was no other choice.  So far, things have been good.  I hope they stay that way.

I hope all of you are having a good weekend.  I hope you find your peace wherever you may find it.

Just Another Mother's Day

Mother's Day is upon us again.  I don't really like Mother's Day.

I don't like it because of the constant advertisements that are all over the internet, the radio, and the newspapers.  We're really lucky I don't have cable right now because I might have broken my own TV by now.  I know it's got to be all over the place right now.  I don't really like it because I don't want to be reminded that it's coming soon.  I know that it is.  And I will deal with it in my own way when it gets here.  But I don't need nor want to be reminded of it constantly in the days leading up to it.  All it really reminds me of is that my son is not going to be with me on Mother's Day.  I won't get a card from him.  I won't get flowers from him.  He's going to be spending the day with his mom.  And that's something I'm not a part of.  Of all the holidays of the year, Mother's Day, for me, is the worst.  I've tried to treat it like just another day, but that's not really possible in my case.

I get texts from my ex and his mother on Mother's Day.  They don't mean any malice in this.  I know. they do it because they still love me.  And I guess you could say I get my revenge because I tell my ex Happy Father's Day when that day rolls around.  Either I call my mom or she calls me so we can say it to each other.  I do like telling my mother Happy Mother's Day.  The first time she told me Happy Mother's Day, I was still big and pregnant.  My parents gave me a Mother's Day card in which they wrote, "Whatever you decide, we will always love you."  I knew they meant well.  And at the time I received it well.  But at the time I was still trying to decide what to do.  So it was difficult.

Sunday I will be going to church.  I'm going to church because the church I attend on occasion has a very low-key way of handling Mother's Day.  There is a blessing over every woman and girl in the church.  Then every woman and girl gets a carnation and the chance to go to the fellowship hall and have cake.  This will be the third time I've done so.  I like it this way.  No judgements about who I am or what I did, just that I am a mother as is every other woman.  I get a flower.  I get cake.  There are several people in the congregation who know about my son.  Even the pastor knows.  I'll show them the most recent pictures of him and they will wonder at how big he's gotten and how much he looks like me.  They'll be kind and tell me to have another piece of cake.  They know I miss him.  But in their eyes, I'm a mother as well.  And on Mother's Day, that's one thing I need.

I hope you all have a good Mother's Day and that you spend it how it suits you best.  Anyone else have any rituals or special things you do on Mother's Day?  Do let me know!

Gifts from my Son

So, last weekend I had a visit with my son.  And something happened at the very beginning that I have to share.

They arrived and I walked through the back door to the back gate that we keep shut so my parents can let the dog out to play in the yard without worrying that she'll get out.  I opened the gate and J walked up to me holding a washed out honey jar with the two double daffodils you see in the picture here.  I reacted much the way my mother would upon seeing a child with flowers,

"Oh wow!  Those are really pretty flowers you have there!"  He looked up at me very proudly, held up the jar and said,

"Yeah, and they're for you!"  Yep, that was when my heart that totally leaped out of my chest.  I've given my son presents.  His parents have given me a couple things over the years.  But J has never given me anything until now.

"For me!  Oh, thank you J!"  I think I was grinning from ear to ear.  Not even joking about that.  I have been given flowers very few times in my life.  And those times were roses and carnations.  These were flowers I had never seen before and had never been given before.  And out of all the times I have been given flowers, I count these as the most precious of all.

I have them at home now.  And much like my mother did when she was young, I am pressing the flowers so that I can seal them up in packing tape and make them into bookmarks.  It's a mildly long process that takes some patience.  But so far they look good.

As he gets older, this may happen again.  I'm wondering what other good things he might give me over the years.  But this was the first time and I know I will never forget it.

I hope all of you who may be having visits soon that they go as well as mine did.  Has anyone else gotten an unexpected present from your child at a visit?  I'd love to hear your stories.

Visits with our Kids

Tomorrow I'm finally going to have a Christmas visit with my son after many delays.  Not one "side's" fault at all, just a matter of illness, weather, travel, and things keeping us busy.  Tonight I want to go out and have Chinese food with a friend or two.  I want something to get my mind off of tomorrow.  Of course my friends will ask me, "Aren't you happy about this?"

*sigh*

Happy that I will see my son, yes.  Happy that I get to watch him ride away in their car again? No.

Happy that my parents will get to see their only grandchild, yes.  Happy that when he leaves they get that far away look in their eyes that guilts me to no end?  No.

Happy that my son is doing well and smiling and doing good in school and growing up fast, yes. Happy that I have to see that this is happening without me?  No.

Happy that he's happy, healthy, and doing well, yes.  Happy that this is only because he's not with me?  No.

Happy that I get to see him, yes.  Happy that he leaves again?  No.

I'm not sure how else to describe the conflict of feelings that happens when I'm having a visit with J. I want him to be around.  I want to see him.  But I also know how much it will hurt when he leaves again.  I know I want to keep him forever and can't.  I know I want to be there for him and can't.   I know a thousand things I can do.  But I also know the million things that I can't.

Only thing I try to hold onto these days is that if he were with me, his life would not be nearly as good as it is now.

I hope you all have a wonderful weekend.  Will try for a happier topic next time.

Families

Sorry for the silence past couple of weeks.  The holidays have been a little bit rough.

If you're reading this, congratulations, you survived the holidays and have made it (hopefully) safely into the new year.  I do believe that everyone deserves a round of applause for that.  After all with travel, weather, various kinds of insanity, there are a great many things that can, and sometimes do, go wrong.  The one thing that I have found is constant in life at those times is family.

When I say family, I don't always mean the people that you are related to by blood.  I have a few different families.  Most would call them social groups, and that's a valid name.  But some are close enough that I do call them family.  I spent my holidays with my parents and we had a very nice, calm, relaxed Christmas.  Exchanged a few presents, made some great food, and had good and hilarious conversation.  I learned of problems in our extended family and in particular one of us that I'm going to try to reach out to as much as I'd like to just let her go.  But she is family.

Before I left though, I was in attendance at a party with friends.  A few of these friends I have grown very close to over the past year.  Close enough that soon I will be giving one a ride to pick up her car and then having dinner with her.  This is the family that I've formed here in Athens.  They're the people that I hang out with, go to dinner with, have late-night philosophical conversations with, and the ones that I whisper my secrets too and let them whisper their secrets to me.  They're as close to me as the people I grew up with.  They're the family of friends that I have gained here in Athens.

I hope that I will get to visit my family of friends in Columbus this summer.  I spent nine years of my life there and the connections made there have refused to fade over time.  One friend, who owns a book shop, almost never leaves my thoughts.  And I know when I step into his shop we will probably pick up the conversation we were having the last time I was there.  Sometimes it feels like I have never left once I find the people I knew for years.  Recently, we've suffered a tragedy in our little close-knit family.   And like all families, we are reaching across the lines of communication and assured each other that we are all still here.  We are still family.

Later this month, my son, J, and his parents will be coming over to my parents' house for the "Christmas visit."  It's been pushed back a little because of illness and problems in their family.  But his mother assured me that they are looking forward to seeing us, and I do believe her.  They have just had a difficult year, and I know it.  My son lost two grandparents this year.  And I know one was a much tougher loss than the other.  I know one was expected and one wasn't.  But like all families, they have bonded together to see each other through.  His father and I have talked every month at the poetry readings.  We hang out together afterwards and I get to hear how my son is doing on a very intimate level.  And this is the family I have made with my son.  I'm very lucky in this, and I'm no idiot, I know this doesn't always happen.  But sometimes it does.  It's different from every other family I've had.  They're closer than friends.  Yet not as close as family.  But we share a life together.  We share one life, J's life.  We both watch him grow and am amazed by it every day.  We are learning together what to do and what he may be one day.  And this family I believe will always be a part of my life just as my blood family, my Columbus family, and my Athens family always will be.

Here's to you all and your families wherever they may be.  Hug them tight, let them know you're there, and I hope you all know that no matter what happens in your lives, you are loved by someone.

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Nature vs. Nurture

Today I thought I'd post a little something I've noticed about my son lately.

My son looks like me.  Now, that's easy to explain.  That's genetics.  I have two male cousins and one female cousin who all look like me.  We all look like our grandmother.  So as he's gotten older, we've compared to pictures of me and my cousins at the same age.  The funny part is that he often looks nearly exactly like the pictures of us from long ago.

But my son also acts like me in some ways.  And it's kind of spooky.  When he was two, he would insist on doing things over and over and over again.  My father said to them on a visit, "We had a rule, if you didn't want to do it a hundred times, don't do it the first time."

Now, many kids like to do the same thing over and over.  It's true.  But then it keeps going.

He makes up stories.  He likes to make up stories and tell them to his parents to see what they think.  I tell stories.  I write stories.  I wrote stories when I was little as well.  Not great ones, as you can imagine.  But I was writing then too.

He hates it when his things get messed up or you rearrange the words in a song.  Absolutely hates it.  Will get very upset about it even.  And yeah, you guessed it, I did that.  Still hate it when someone gets into my things.  I don't cry or scream anymore as you can imagine, but I still have to control myself when people start messing with my things.

He's musical.  He and his adoptive dad have been banging on the fridge and the cabinets and making music all their own.  I picked well in his adoptive parents.  I'm a musician.  And his adoptive father is too.  I can see the delight in his adoptive father's eyes when he talks about making music with Joseph and recording it.

If I added up the time that I've spent with my son, it would probably amount to about two and a half weeks all together.  But there are things I passed down to him without even knowing it.  There is one thing that puzzles me.

He's a practical joker.  I fail at practical jokes.  His biological father never did pull any on me or anyone else I know.  I don't know where it came from.  Maybe some distant relative.  Maybe he learned it from someone in his adoptive family.  I have no idea.  But we all delight in it.

As the years go by, I expect other traits of mine and his birth father will come out.  And traits he picks up from his adoptive family will come out as well.  And I can't wait to see what he makes of all of this.  Hope you and yours are doing well and let me know if you've seen bits of yourself in your own children.

Support Groups

Last night I went to the support group that is run by the adoption agency I placed through.  It's a ways from my home and traffic isn't always pleasant.  But I was determined.  It had been a while since I had been to our support group.  Also, there was a time there when the adoption agency wasn't having meetings.  But I am really glad that they have started these up again.

At the support group there were three counselors and four birthmothers.  One of the birthmothers I have known for three years now.  To say she has supported and helped me through my journey is an understatement.  Her daughter is several years older than my child and thus she understood many of the things I went through in the first few months and years.  She is one of the reasons that I keep coming back to this group.  But I also come back to try to repay that debt and help others just as she helped me.

The best thing about a birthmother support group is that there are other birthmothers are there.  It's hard to find other birthmothers who are willing to talk about their experiences and their lives.  We don't exactly go out wearing signs so we can find each other.  If I've found birthmothers outside of the group, it was quite by accident and most likely because I said something about being a birthmother myself.  We're a very closed bunch.  We play this secret very close to the chest and are always mindful of how others react and what they may say to us.  Because of that, it's hard to find people we can talk to about being a birthmother.

The support of friends and family is invaluable and I am not discrediting that.  I have been extremely lucky in my circle of friends and in my family.  But there are times when they just can't understand.  Usually that's about the time I turn to the circle of birthmothers that I know and vent to them.  There are just some things that only other birthmothers will understand.  Why it hurts when you hear a baby cry.  Why Christmas and kids toys make you a little distant.  Why visits are great things, but at the same time are painful things too.  And how it can break your heart to watch your child grow up over the years as you finally come to terms with everything that's happened.

I hope all of you have not only found support amongst your friends and family, but also in the birthmother community itself.  We're all very different.  We come from many different worlds.  But we all have one thing in common.  And we can understand each other within seconds.  If you don't have a support group near where you live, please reach out online.  This site is very good for finding other birthmothers who will understand you.  If you need to reach out to someone who understands, please do.  Every single one of us has been in your shoes, thinking the same thoughts, and crying the very same tears.  We remember and we understand.

A Part of the Family

My post today is going to be part story, part thank you note, and part wish for all who place their child for adoption.

When I was invited to my son's 2nd birthday party, I was nervous, as you can imagine.  One of the first people I was introduced to at the party was my son J's grandmother, who for the purposes of this story I will call Mary.  J was her very first grandchild and I could tell by the way she doted on him that she had been looking forward to having a grandchild to spoil for a very long time.  When we were officially introduced, she was very warm and friendly to me and my parents.  We spent a good portion of the party sitting together and chatting.  When a few were surprised by my presence,  she gave what can only be described as a "don't you mess with my family" look.  She folded me in with all the others she held dear because I was the one who gave them J.

I saw Mary again at J's 3rd birthday which was held at her house.  She greeted me with a hug and together we marveled at how much J had grown.  Again, we chatted for a long time.  She asked about my parents and how my ex-boyfriend, J's father, was doing.  Again I felt like I had been folded into a family I had never dreamed I would be so welcome in.  And I highly respected and admired her for that.

Wednesday night, at poetry night, J's adoptive father informed me that Mary had passed away just the day before.  It had been over a year since I had seen her last, but still I remembered the woman's warmth and love towards me.  I wish that I had thanked her for that when I still had the time.  So I'm writing this to thank you, dear Mary, for making me feel like family and accepting me with grace and love and joy.  I hope by sending this out into the universe, it will reach you somehow so that you will know how much I appreciated and respected you.

To those of you considering placing for adoption, or those in the first raw months of it, I hope that you are welcomed and accepted by those you never thought would.  I hope you find love and grace  and respect from those you meet and those who will be a part of your child's life.  And last of all, I hope you all have a wonderful day.

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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.

To Be Brave

This week I finally did something I had been intending on doing since getting home from the hospital after giving birth to my son.

Those who have known me a while and know my adoption story know it all started with one thing: the bravery and honesty of a woman I already held in high esteem.  She was a former boss of mine, and it was just chance that we ran into each other in a parking lot and began talking.  At this point, I looked like I was hiding a beach ball under my t-shirt, and my boss was no fool.  So when she asked me how I was doing I was honest and said,

“Well, obviously, I’m pregnant.  Didn’t intend to get like this, but that’s what happened.  And right now I’m trying to decide whether to keep the kid and raise it or to place it for adoption.  But right now I just have no idea what to do.”

To my surprise she replied, “Well, I don’t wave it around like a flag, but I placed a child for adoption when I was about your age.”

She went on to tell me that she had gone to a home for unwed mothers, as many did in the 60s.  She gave birth, gave up her child, then a year later got married, and had a child of her own.  Her son would later track her down in his adult life and they have a fantastic relationship to this day.  And it may sound weird, but at that moment the first thought that went through my head was, “So, this is actually survivable.”

Don’t ask me why.  I don’t know to this day.  But before that moment, whenever I thought about placing my child for adoption, I just imagined my life stopping there.  I couldn’t fathom living past that day.  I couldn’t fathom what my life would be like without this child I had been carrying.  I wasn’t sure that I even deserved to keep going after doing that.  Obviously, I don’t believe that anymore.  But at the time, all manner of thoughts were going through my head and I wasn’t sure how to sort it all out.

Most of all, I was looking at doing something that none of my friends had ever done.  All of them, if they got unexpectedly pregnant, dealt with it in other ways.  I even know a few of their kids by name.  If any of them ever thought about adoption, none of them ever said it or just never said it to me.  But when my old boss told me that she had done the same thing and had in fact lived on, I was finally able to break the constant loop in my head that had been driving me crazy.  It was only two days later that my boyfriend and I would have the discussion in which we decided placing our son for adoption was the best idea.

As you know, my son just turned 4.  And Wednesday was his first day of school.  Tuesday, I finally sat myself down and wrote the message I had been intending to write for four years.  My old boss and I are friends on Facebook and have been so for a long while now.  But I never did tell her what had happened after seeing her in the parking lot.  Tuesday I finally pulled together all my thoughts and wrote her a message thanking her for sharing her story with me.  I also told her that she was the reason I finally pulled together the bravery and courage to do what needed to be done for my child.  I even sent her a picture of him from his recent birthday party.  Unsurprisingly, she wrote me back a very positive message and was glad that I had told her and had likewise shared my story with her.  She agreed that at times, we each have to do what we think is best.  She also sent me a link to her son’s blog that details his search and finding of not only her, but also his birth father.

For the next half hour, I was glued to the screen, reading this man’s account of his happy life, always knowing that he was adopted and always knowing that if he went looking for his birth family, his adoptive family would be, and was, completely supportive.  Then he found them and reconnected with them.  The happiness and the joy and the connections that connected them without even realizing it were amazing.

The most amazing thing to me was the unshakable bravery I found in his words.  In their story, I just found mountains and mountains of incredible bravery.  They had both been searching and found each other.  Then they finally met each other and got know each other.  There were questions and finally answers for the both of them.  And to this day they keep in touch.

I’m extremely lucky in that my son’s adoptive family is so willing to have me around for parties and visits and going out to dinner.  I’m also extremely lucky that this happened to me in a time when open adoption is an option.  And yet, there is still a distance between my son and I.  That’s really what this made me realize.  While I won’t have nearly as large of a gap to travel to get to know my son and for him to get to know me over the years, I know there are going to be times that will be difficult and awkward.  I know that sooner or later there will be a reckoning for me.  There will be things I will have to explain to my son as he gets older that will be a little bit difficult.  And there will be questions for me that I will have to answer.  And they are answers that he has a right to.  I’m only hoping that I have half the bravery that my boss and her son did when it comes time.

On Birthdays

 

My son, J, was born on July 14^th.  And right now it’s ten days until his birthday.  My emotions always run high around this time of the year.  And as you can imagine, the Georgia heat does not help.  I’ve been fortunate in that my son’s adoptive parents are always happy to include me in the birthday plans.  This year we are going out to a park.  He’s turning 4.  I’m still amazed every year at how much older he’s getting.  Still seems like it was only yesterday that he was a tiny baby in my arms at the hospital.  But that was a long time ago now.  Much has happened.

He’s learned how to roll over.  He’s learned how to smile.  He’s learned how to crawl.  He’s learned how to talk.  He’s learned how to walk.  He’s learned how to run.  He’s figured out how to work both of his parents’ smart phones.  He’s learned how to work YouTube.  He figures out how things work at a blistering pace.  He’s started making up stories and telling them to his parents.  He’s started playing practical jokes on his parents that are hilarious and wonderful.   This list is not necessarily in order or really complete.  But they are the things I typically think of when his birthday rolls around.

Every year at his birthday I start counting up how long it’s been.  And I also start counting up just how much that I’ve missed.  I try not to think about this at a constant rate, as you can imagine.  But when his birthday hits, I often can’t help myself.

His birthday is also an emotional journey that I take myself on once a year.  His first birthday was handled in a rather low key way.  I was moving from one city to another and it was actually taking me closer to him.  They were delighted about that since it meant that visits would be easier.  They were going out to a cabin for their summer vacation and would be there for his actual birthday.  So we met a week earlier.  We got together at a restaurant and had a lovely couple of hours together.

On his second birthday, I was invited out to their house.  This would be the first time I would meet my son’s grandparents.  It was also the first time I met his aunt and a few assorted friends of theirs.  I was introduced as J’s birthmother to everyone.  My identity was not something they felt needed to be hidden.  And all the extended family and friends were welcoming and happy to see me there.  I laughed as he played with his new birthday toys.  And I got to see the house and environment that he’s growing up in.  I have to say, it’s a great one.

On his third birthday, I was now invited out to his maternal grandparent’s house in the country near the cities where we live.  Once again, my identity was shielded from no one.  I met more friends and some kids his age that he plays with on a regular basis.  I laughed with everyone at all the funny things he did.  I delighted in his enthusiasm over books.  And we all had a great time.

His birthday has become a yearly sojourn back in time for me.  Every year when I leave, it feels like watching him go away from the hospital once again.  Every year I find I am amazed at how big he’s gotten and how old he is.  Don’t worry; I do see him more than once a year.  But it’s still a shocker every time I see him, especially when it’s his birthday.  I guess I expect to see him back to the tiny nearly 8 pound baby that I gave birth to on July 14^th of 2010.  But that’s been nearly four years ago now.

As birthmothers, I often think we live in a weird kind of dichotomy.  We are a part of our children’s lives, and yet not.  We are part of the family, and yet we aren’t.  We get to watch our children grow up, but we miss so many things in between the visits that we have.  It is better than never knowing, but knowing is its own kind of pain.  We only get to see our children at certain points in time.  And, at least for me, on his birthday, I’m always counting back through time to all the times that I’ve seen him right back to the very first time I saw him when he was born.  I live in a virtual time warp when I see my son.  And maybe one day that won’t happen anymore.  But this is what happens now.

How do you all handle your child’s birthday?  Do you see them?  If you don’t, do you have a yearly ritual?  I know this time is worse for me than Christmas.  So I know how many of you feel.  I hope all of you who are going through this right now, very soon from now, or even several months from now, get through it with friends and family and laughter and tears and all the support that you need.

Broken Can Be Beautiful

I read a blog once about a young mother whose newborn had died shortly after birth. She was racked by grief and loss. At some point in her story she felt compelled to shatter a water pitcher that she had and slowly glue it back together. To her, that pitcher is more beautiful now. It will still hold water, but now the light shines through the cracks. That pitcher is a representation of her life and her healing.

You can take something broken and make it beautiful. Adoption is broken. There is coercion. There are unethical lawyers and social workers. There are adoptive families that believe they are entitled to your child. There are birth families that are not supportive. There are even birth parents that are selfish.

My attorney was unethical. My agency was non-existent in all the ways they should not have been. I remember the social worker coming to my house one time before the placement. She asked a few questions and was on her way. After 5 minutes with me she gave the green light on my placing my son. The lawyer, the most dramatic thing she did was insist to me that the post-placement agreement was legally binding. That if it was notarized and we both signed it was now a legal contract. Each page of that agreement is initialed. The document is notarized. It's not legal though. Not even a little.

I met with a dear friend, a lawyer, several times. I was so angry. How could she lie to me like that? Did she not see how important that agreement was to me? That agreement was my sanity. That was how I made it through those first few months. My friend started attacking me with questions. Asking about all these personal things. About my son, finances, my job, my friends, where I lived, my family. He was relentless. Then he asked about the adoptive family. He asked about my choice to place. He asked about my feelings. It was one of the longest evenings of my life. I cried until I could cry no more. Then he asked me one last question. "Do you want Frogger removed from R&P?" I was horrified. Of course I didn't. I just wanted my lawyer to pay for her lies. I wanted my lawyer to burn in hell. It was then that I realized what he had done.

The defense would have torn me apart. I was a grieving mom that changed her mind. Oh no, wait, I wasn't. I was just bitter and angry and out for blood. I didn't pursue going to the bar. My wounds were to too raw and too deep.

This is why I say we, as birth mothers, need to speak out. We need to change the way adoption is handled. If it wasn't so hush-hush then the laws would be known. Open adoption would be the norm. Everyone would know what an ethical, moral, upstanding adoption looked like.

Take something broken and make it more beautiful then it was meant to be. Fix it. Don't trash it. Someone may need it one day.

Across State Lines

This is my first blog in a really long time and I apologize for that but I haven't had steady internet. Lately, I have been thinking about how things have been and to me some of my thoughts that have been running through my head seem so selfish. I don't know why these things have been bugging me but I just have to get them out.

As those of you who have been following my story know, E is in Arizona and we currently live in Indiana. I've just been thinking a lot about how hard it's been. I like to say that I'm not missing anything in my life and that I'm fine with him being so far away, but lately it's been eating away at me. I am a part of a new birthmother support group on Facebook and it seems like a lot of the girls are literally a couple hours drive from their birth children, yet I'm a 6 hour plane ride or a 2 days drive away from my birth son. And it seems to be eating away at me daily.

I feel so envious of these women that literally don't have too far to go to see their children. But for me to see E it takes at least 4 months of planning and at least a year of saving just to be able to go. I know that I was able to see him in June, but I got so much flack for that, and it caused a huge strain financially, but I knew that I needed to see him, I needed to visibly know that he was okay and that he was happy (which I had no thoughts that he would be anything but). I hate not being able to call and set up a time to see him at least every couple of months and deep down it eats away at my heart. And I know that this isn't my fault, because I feel like we were divinely directed towards E's a-parents and that it was PERFECT and right. I just am having trouble seeing him grow up through social media and blog posts when I really wish that I could see him grow up through my lens as well.

I've also been dealing with the thoughts and feelings of K and T eventually maybe going "live" again for adoption and eventually another birth mother finding them and them eventually adopting again. It kind of hurts knowing that if it is what God wants then it will happen. I worry that if they find another birth mom and adopt again that I will be misplaced and foreshadowed by this other woman. Not that I don't think that they shouldn't add to their family because of me having these selfish thoughts, but I just keep having this continuing dream that they adopt and I'm eventually cut off. I don't know how to deal with these thoughts and feelings. I know that one day it will eventually happen. K and T have been very open and honest about how they are enjoying E and that their hearts are full and that they are very content in where they are right now but I just can't seem to shake that it's going to happen one day and that in a metaphorical kind of way there will be "another" woman. And I'll be pushed aside.

I know that these are irrational feelings and I shouldn't be thinking like this, but I mean come on, I'm human. As much as I love K&T I feel like my  heart will be ripped out of my chest the minute that I get the phone call, email, or text message stating that they have found another birth mom. As much as I love that another birth mom could have such amazing parents to take care of her child, I just can't wrap my head around the thought that she will be better than I, or that she will have more to offer, or that she will want a closed adoption instead of being like me with my clingy open adoption.

Yes, these might be irrational thoughts and fears but for me they are my real thoughts and because of them being across the country it makes things a lot harder.