Hard Words to Say

Trigger warning: This post deals with post placement pregnancy.....

For the past few months, I find myself to be in familiar territory. Yet at the same time, very new territory. Instead of being cryptic about it like I have been with everyone lately, I’ll just say it – I’m pregnant. These past 12 weeks have been an emotional roller coaster for me.

                Despite the fact that this pregnancy was “planned”, and that I am now married, because of the situation I was in just 2 years ago when my son was born, it feels somehow like I’m doing the wrong thing by being pregnant. It has been so confusing for me dealing with all of these emotions. I feel like I’m betraying my son, I feel like I don’t really deserve to parent this baby, and I’m terrified that something is going to happen to take this baby away from me. Some days I feel so scared to connect with this baby because my connection with my birth son was so immediate and so fierce and that has led me to become vulnerable to a lot of hurt and pain. This baby is no more or less wanted than my birth son was, and will be no more or less loved. But I’m not going to lie, it’s almost scarier this time.

                Going to doctor appointments is scarier. Now I have to answer questions like “is this your first child?” or “and how is your other child, is he healthy?” Well, I’d assume so, haven’t heard otherwise! Telling my family was horrifying in a different way this time too. When I first told my parents, I had to say it all very quickly in one sentence so they wouldn’t ask questions that I didn’t want to hear. It came out something like “we’re pregnant but it was planned so don’t worry and this needs to be a good thing so I need you to be happy about it”. I think I was more nervous telling them this time than I was last time (granted, last time I did tell them in an email). Facing the public is scarier. People constantly assume that this is my first pregnancy. They like to give me advice on what to expect, and tell me things like that my baby probably won’t be too big because I’m very small. Oh really? Because my son was 8lbs 12oz, so I’d say that’s pretty big! But I don’t say that. I don’t correct them. It hurts too badly to go down that road. I hate the fact that I'm terrified of telling people because I'm afraid of their reaction.

                Around week 6 or so, the baby is the size of a lentil. During that week, I sent my husband a picture of some lentil soup and told him how I really wanted to eat it, but told him I couldn’t do it because it felt like cannibalism. I was half kidding, but waited to eat the soup. Ever since then, we call the baby The Lentil. I hope that loving the Lentil won’t make my birth son feel betrayed in the future. I know how very much and how very strongly I loved my birth son from the very beginning. I’m almost scared that I won’t be able to love the Lentil enough. I have missed my birth son more in these last 12 weeks than I expected to, and there have been a lot of emotions come up for me that I didn’t anticipate.

                I hate the fact that whether a pregnancy is planned or not matters, but it does seem to matter to other people. Yes, my husband and I planned to have this Lentil (although we did think it would take us a little bit longer than…immediately), and no, my birth son was not planned. But you know what? Both of my babies were wanted. And both of my babies are loved. Mom, birth mom, step mom, all of my titles aside. I will always love all of my children more than they can possibly understand, something my own mom used to tell me, and now I do understand. I hope they know that. I hope I will always be a positive person in their lives, someone they can look up to. I may not have it all together, nobody really does. But what I do have is an endless supply of love. And hugs to give. Just ask my husband. I’m sure it drives him crazy sometimes.

Photo Credit

You are Entitled to Your Feelings

             

Two years post placement, I still find myself suprised when I'm faced with certain triggers and get upset by it. I try to put on a strong face for my family and friends and act like I'm not affected by things or act like certain situations don't upset me when they do. 

 I think a lot of us do this. We act like we’re doing okay. We try to stay strong and we put on a brave face. I hope that we all feel safe enough in our lives and within our support systems to be real with ourselves and with the people close to us. It’s okay to have a bad day. It’s okay to feel sad if we see something that reminds us of our birth children, when we were pregnant with them, or any other memory or trigger that we have. It’s okay to feel it and it’s okay to express it.

                Adoption is a huge part of my life and hiding how I feel on my sad days doesn’t do anyone any good. I’m not being “noble” by swallowing my emotions. Yesterday was an unexpectedly difficult day for me. I was triggered by something that I didn’t expect to be and my negative emotions took me by surprise. But I know I didn’t handle the situation right. What I should have done was talked to my husband about what I was thinking and feeling and just talked it out with him so he could understand what I was going through at the moment. But that isn’t what I did. Instead, I tried to “get over it”. I tried to swallow my emotions and act like it wasn’t a problem. But it was a problem, and because I ignored it, it got bigger and bigger. I ended up redirecting my emotions in the wrong way and picked a fight with my husband over him going to the dentist. It was ridiculous and unnecessary, and could have been prevented by me being honest in the first place. Of course shortly after that, I realized that I was being ridiculous and was honest with him about what was going on and what I was feeling.

                This next season in my life is going to be filled with triggers that will probably make me think of my birthson more and I know I will be more challenged by unexpected hard days than I have been recently. I hope that you know that it’s okay, and necessary, to feel what you need to feel and be open and honest with yourself and those around you. You deserve it. You deserve your good days and you deserve to be able to express yourself on your bad days. Don’t feel guilty for having either of those days. Whether you are feeling happy or sad or anything at all in between, I hope you never feel alone.

                Two years post placement, I still find myself to be so grateful for the fact that good days will always follow the bad days.

Every Corner of My Life

I believe being a birth mother is an amazing blessing. I have learned so many things through my journey, and it has made me the person I am today. I also believe in some ways, it makes some things harder. Obviously there are all the emotions and pain we go through, but I also believe being a birth mother affects the relationships we have. In my life I see this, particularly in new relationships (ones who didn't know me before I was a birth mother). I do not think these relationships are harmed in any way, and often they are nourished because of my journey, but they are very much affected. These people never knew the person I was before, and they cannot understand the journey I traveled to get to where I am today. Without the experience of those very formative months of my life it is hard to fully understand me. 

I have recently been very aware of how my husband (and I'm sure others) pay for some of the things I went through during my pregnancy with my son. I had a very difficult time with the birth father and his entire family. There was very little respect or concern for what I was going through. When my son was born they showed a sense of entitlement to this baby which they had not done anything for or seemed to care for in any way. I was this pawn for them in their game, and only useful when they were getting something from me. 

As I have gone through other pregnancies I have experienced similar feelings with

my husband's family. It is in no way the same situation, and there is not the same hatred and disrespect surrounding it all. However, there is enough that the feelings are the same for me, and because of my experience with my son's birth, I am thrown right back to that time six years ago. 

I know in many ways this is not fair, and it is very hard for people to understand when they did not walk that path with me the first time around. For me, it is real. The feelings hurt all over again and the fear of a repeat is clear in my mind. It brings it all back in the form of flashbacks and memories which feel as if they are occurring at that moment. 

It has become important to me to set boundaries. I know that I have certain triggers which make everything harder, and unfortunately, just giving birth is one of them. While the experience with each child is different and special, it also puts me back in that place. Being in the same hospital going through labor once again, it is impossible for me to completely separate the situations. I know this is hard for others to understand, but for me it is my reality. So I try my best to help others understand and I work very hard to prepare myself for these feelings and prevent what I can.  

Being a birth mother is such an incredible gift. It is part of my story, and whether people realize it or not, it reaches into every corner of my life. It can pop up at any time in any way imaginable. I don't have it all figured out yet, and I probably never will. What I do know is that those people who are worth having in my life will take the time to try and understand, and still accept me when they cannot understand. It's all part of the journey. 

 picture credit

Trigger Warning

I kind of wish life came with trigger warnings.  I do hate when something happens that sets off things in my head.  This weekend won't be fun for me.  Many enjoy fireworks and I understand that.  But I am not a fan.  There was a shooting at my high school here in Georgia.  That was when I learned how similar the sound of gunfire and firecrackers are.  I also lived in Columbus, GA for nine years.  Fort Benning is right near by.  They often do artillery testing and I can guarantee you, the sound can be heard in Columbus.  And it often sounds like fireworks.

After becoming a birthmother, I discovered a whole new set of triggers.  Not long after giving birth, I went to the eye doctor to get a new pair of glasses.  It was a simple visit like many other simple visits I've had over the years.  But in the waiting room there was a new mother and her newborn baby.  People cooed and asked how old the baby was.  And her child was born a day after mine.  Immediately, I'm tearing up, my brain is racing with thoughts about where my son could be right now, and the only thing I really want to do is run out of this doctor's office right now.  Fortunately, I got called back by the nurse before I went into a full breakdown and was able to collect myself during the rote questions you get at every doctor's office.

It was the first time I was triggered by the sight of a baby. Children didn't bother me.  Children still don't bother me.  It seems that children four months and older don't bother me.  But newborns always get to me.  Friends have had children, but looking at pictures of their newborn children  is tough.  I often don't visit until their kids are at least six months old.  Fortunately, most new moms don't mind this.

Since then, there have been other times I have been triggered.  Sometimes it's a commercial for Mother's day.  Sometimes it's someone talking about their kid when I can't.  Sometimes it's a poem his adoptive father reads that has my son... our son in it.  None of these moments ever warn me of their approach.  They come and I have to deal as best I can.  But that's about all I can do.

How do you deal with your triggers and what do you find that triggers you?

Dump Trucks of Love

Sometimes life gets in the way... The last several days have been a whirlwind of unexpected road trips, ER visits, and simply trying to catch up and prepare for some things on the horizon. For this reason I simply have not had a chance to sit down and write a proper blog post. 

However, I thought I would share a letter that I wrote to Frogger 4-5 years ago about his placement day. I know I have searched out they way others felt on that day. Birth families, adoptive families, even family and friends. 

Next week I promise I will be back with "fresh" material! Until then...

Dear Frogger, 

March 15, 1998 you became a part of your new family. This date holds so much more significance for me than your birthday, or mother’s day, or all the days you are in my heart and on my mind. 

For some reason this year seemed harder than it has been in a very long time. I’m not sure why that is. The day replayed over and over in my mind as if I had gone back in time. I remembered things I had been afraid I had forgotten. I remembered things clearly that have become fuzzy with time. 

You were 2.5 years old. We had made it that far. We had a bond that was beyond most simply because it had always been just you and me. I want to share that Sunday with you. 

I had taken every step imaginable to make the transition as easy as possible for you. I tried to pretend that everything was good. That I was happy. That the changes that were going to take place were normal. Nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing to be upset about. This was going to be a happy time for you. A time that you were being given the gift of a mom AND a dad. A time that would erase any memory of hardship and having to do without even the basic necessities. I made sure you were excited. I never let you see me when I was feeling the loss that was about to occur for me. 

On Saturday at 7:30pm, just as we had every day for the past 2.5 years. I tucked you in. I told you that tomorrow was the big day that you would go to your new house with R and P. I told you how it would be a big day, an exciting day and to make sure you got some “big sleep” (You always insisted it was big sleep, not good sleep). We said our prayers, we said goodnight to the moon, the trees, and about 25 other things. We had a routine and we stuck with it. 

You were always a good sleeper. You never woke up in the middle of the night. But that night you did. You woke up and called for me. It’s as if you understood that it was our last night together. The last night we would ever be considered mother and son to the world as a whole. When I walked into your room you asked if we could sleep together on the futon. We had never slept together and neither of us had slept on the futon. I told you no, that we both had to sleep in our beds just like always. You cried. You never cried over something so seemingly silly. You insisted that we “camp on the futon, Mummy, PLLLLEEASEEE”. So we did… 

You snuggled up to me and never let go of my hand. You woke me up on Sunday morning staring at me nose to nose. You didn’t want to get up and play like you normally did. You wanted us to camp some more. We had breakfast, we played, we did everything that we normally did. 

When it was time to go meet R and P, you happily put your coat on, you got your blanket and started out the front door. 

All of us met at PaPa’s office. You loved PaPa’s office… You ran around and laughed. You took turns giving all of us rides in PaPa’s desk chair. It seemed just like any other day all in all. 

I want to tell you more… but its too difficult right now. It’s to difficult to put my feelings into words. But, most importantly I want to tell you about that last moment that is so remarkably clear right now. I put you in your car seat in R and P’s car.You asked for an Eskimo kiss. Then you took those chubby hands on both sides of my face and pulled me down. You wiped the one tear that escaped in spite of my using every once of strength I had to not cry in front of you. You then said the words that will never leave my memories… 

“No cry Mummy! I love you fiffy building dump trucks every day Mummy.” 

I love you 50 Billion Dump Trucks each and every day too, Frogger! I hope that all my dreams for you come true. 

Love Always, 

Mummy

Please, share your experience of Placement Day! I would love to hear from each and everyone of you.

Triggered

Image credit

My mom lost a very dear friend of hers last week.  This friend was quite a bit older than my mother and they’d been friends for at least 30 years.  I remember going up to San Juan Island (off the northwest coast of Washington) every summer and spending a week with my mom, her friend and her husband on their property.  We would play badminton, dig for clams, and bait crab traps with the clams.  My sister and I would put on plays and stay up half the night roasting marshmallows for s’mores and then try not to giggle too loud in our beds as we were right above our mom in the loft of the guest “barn.”  It had never been a barn to house animals, but the structure was built like a barn nonetheless.

Though my mom and her friend obviously had quite a connection, I didn’t have the same connection with her.  When my mom called me Monday morning to notify me of her friend’s death and to ask me to come to the memorial service this Sunday, I was sad but not heartbroken.  However, as the week has worn on I’ve found myself getting snappy at stupid things and feeling something close to anxious.  I sometimes get that way when I have a lot on my mind and need to write, but I’ve been blogging so I didn’t think that was it.

As I was categorizing thoughts in my head as I tend to do and deciding what to write about for my post here this week, I came to the realization that though the connection to my mom’s friend was never a strong one, it’s triggering in me the feelings of loss that are always threatening to come to the surface.  Just when I think that I’m coping well with adoption, the tornado I’ve mentioned before comes and sucks me in again.

I’ve started to figure out what situations I might find myself in that would trigger different aspects of grief.  But I wasn’t prepared that the loss of someone I really didn’t know well would trigger my own feelings of adoption loss.  I don’t miss my daughter more than any other time, nor am I worried that the relationship Nick and I have built with her parents is just going to suddenly disappear like I used to be.  Those would be huge adoption loss scenarios.  I think that’s what bewildered me most about this situation.

However, admitting that I’m dealing with this and writing my feelings down in the form of a post has been very healing for me.  I don’t know how I will cope on Sunday.  I might break down more than I expect to do, I might not feel anything at all, or I might be somewhere in between.  We’ll just have to see how it plays out.

Have you had any triggers for your loss that you haven’t expected?  How did you deal with those feelings?

The Valentine's Day Card Ordeal

Earlier this week I spent almost an entire hour in the kids’ section of the Valentine’s Day cards looking for a card that was appropriate to send to my birthson. I picked up after card growing more frustrated with each one. It seemed like every card said “son” or “grandson.” There were even cards saying “godson” and "nephew." If I wandered out of the kids’ section I found cards that didn’t use titles but they were more grown up and not very fun looking.

I know there are birthmoms whose children’s adoptive parents are perfectly fine with them sending a card that says “son” or “daughter.” I never thought to ask Charlie’s adoptive Mom about this in the earlier years of Charlie’s life and I worry that at an early age that type of card might have confused him and at nine years in it just seems odd to start sending those types of cards so I avoid ones that say “son.” Bottom of Form

Finally, I began to feel defeated and decided it was time to leave the store. I left totally frustrated. While I was pregnant and making an adoption plan, I never realized that something as simple as buying a greeting card would become such a complicated, emotional ordeal. 

My solution? Grab my crafting supplies and just make a personalized card!

Is shopping for a card an ordeal for you as well or are you able to find one that works quickly? 

Triggers

Coley mentioned in the newsletter this month that adoption is everywhere.  Lately, I've felt like every TV show I turn on or movie I rent has some sort of storyline about adoption or unplanned pregnancy.  I go to dinner and the people behind me are talking about adoption.  The radio station I work for did an entire two hour program on unplanned pregnancy and I had no choice but to listen.  I'm constantly getting baby-related mail.  Some days, I really really want a break from these emotional "triggers."

On good days, these emotional triggers are frustrating, and can leave me in a funk.  On bad days, they can bring on some pretty strong emotional reactions.

So, how do you handle these triggers?  Here are some things I do:

• If I'm feeling a strong reaction coming on, I will try to excuse myself for a few minutes.  Bathrooms are great for this.  So are cars.  Sometimes just stepping away from people gives me enough of a chance to calm down.
• Internally praying, reciting a comforting Scripture or quote, or singing an encouraging song.  Any of these can help to calm my thoughts and focus me.
• Finding a task to distract myself.  This is especially helpful if I'm faced with a trigger at work.  Anything that takes significant concentration will do.
• Turning off the TV show/radio, stepping away from the conversation, etc.  Sometimes it's hard... especially with adoption themes in shows.  But, I'd rather miss the rest of the episode than let it drag me down.
• Send a text to another birthmom.  Sometimes just venting to someone who understands makes a huge difference.
• Sometimes, thinking about or looking at a picture of my son helps... other times, I know it would just make things worse.  I always keep a few pictures in my purse for times I think it will help.

Unfortunately, these options aren't always available.  Sometimes, I just have to deal with it.  If I do start crying and I'm with people who don't understand, I just explain that I'm having a hard day.  Most people are kind enough not to pry.  I also try to remind myself that it's a normal part of the grief process and, next time, I'll be a little stronger for it.  Each time I face these types of things, I get a little better at managing them and at figuring out what I need to recover.

What do you do when faced with unexpected triggers?