Stereotypes

It's 2016.  Adoption has been portrayed in the media in several different positive lights in recent years, and adoption stories have become less taboo.  Everywhere you look you can see adoptive families, with their radiating smiles singing the praises of the "selfless woman who placed her child with us."

So why is it still so hard to "come out" as a birth mother sometimes?

I am pretty open about my birth mother status.  I tell everyone as we get to know each other, because it is a part of who I am.  However, it isn't something that I shout from a rooftop for every stranger to hear, mostly because of one experience, and one stereotype:

I placed my middle child.  I was a young, struggling, single Mom, and I was in no place to successfully parent two children at that time.  After my adoption decision, I went on to get married, buy a house, and have a planned pregnancy.

When my youngest was born, she wasn't in the greatest of health so she was sent to a larger hospital with a NICU.  Every family was assigned a social worker to help them with whatever was needed, and (apparently) the social worker does an in depth review of everyone's files before even meeting with you.  She asked me about my family, and when I responded that we had one older child, she pushed me, and pushed me, and pushed me some more.  When I told her of my middle child's adoption, she immediately (seriously, there was no hesitation) asked, "Was CPS involved?"

And that, everyone, is the problem.

In this modern society. there is still the long held stereotype that birth moms are somehow unfit.  That we are incapable, and that we are women who have not come to the decision of adoption because we wanted to, but because we were forced to, or else risked having our children placed in foster care.

I want to fix this, but I just don't know how.  I want to scream from a rooftop that, "I am here!  I'm not unfit!  I loved my child, and I wanted the best for them!  I was realistic about my situation and realized that I wasn't the best!  That's it!"  

But no matter how loud I scream, it seems like the long held idea that I am somehow irresponsible is louder.

I made a great choice when I chose adoption, but I feel like sometimes society is punishing me for doing what was best, and that's a real injustice that is done to birth moms every day.

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Social Media and Adoption

When looking at the world today, it seems like everyone is connected to everything.  It might seem completely natural for some birth families to be connected to adoptive families on social media, but for others it can feel like walking on thin ice.

When I placed my daughter for adoption, the agency that I was using advised that adoptive families and birth families not 'friend' each other on social media.  After placing, I adhered strictly to that guideline for several years.  After my daughter's Mom served as my maid of honor in my wedding in 2013, we both felt as though we had become comfortable enough with each other to engage in social media.

I was excited by this turn of events.  I was looking forward to seeing the everyday happenings on my birth daughter, and I was glad that my daughter's Mom felt comfortable enough with me to do this, even though our agency didn't generally recommend it.  The friend request came in and I eagerly accepted, looking forward to seeing extra pictures of my sweet baby girl.

Then I saw them.  Every. Single. One.  I knew when she was going on vacation, I saw photos of her going to preschool, I saw pictures of her with her family.  I immediately felt a pit on my stomach.  I was barraged by their happiness and my loss.

I was committed to remaining 'friends' on social media, since I didn't want to jeopardize the openness that I had been so excited to have.  However, after several days of being barraged by photos, I chose to 'unfollow' my daughter's Mom on Facebook for quite some time.  We were able to remain friends, but I struggled with the lack of control that I had when my birth daughter would pop up on my newsfeed unexpectedly.

It took my several months to acclimate with the idea of being friends on social media once I had a taste of what it was like.  After some time, when I felt more prepared, I 'followed' my birth daughter's Mom again.  We have now been happily 'friended' for several years, with no issues.  The first few months though, our social media interactions served as a bit of a trigger for my grief, which was unexpected.

I know not everyone has the opportunity to be "friends" on social media with their child's family
If you are friends with your birth child's family on social media, how has it worked for you?

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The Next Baby

When I was getting ready to place my second daughter for adoption, I never gave my future children much thought.  In fact, at that point, I would have been perfectly content to never deal with pregnancy again, as both my pregnancies had been pretty dramatic and ridiculously emotional, mostly due to the volatile relationship I was in.

However, shortly after my birth daughters second birthday I got married to a wonderful man, and by the time she was 3 and a half my youngest daughter was born.  This pregnancy wasn't a surprise, she was meticulously planned.  Yet, for some reason, when I told my family, I was afraid.  I had nothing to be afraid of, I was 23 and married with a mortgage, a job, and a 401K.  I was an adult, in every sense of the word.  I struggled with the idea that this pregnancy would be joyfully embraced though.  I felt that, even though I may have been more prepared, my newest baby didn't deserve more fanfare than my older children.
 
As my pregnancy progressed, everything terrified me.  If I hadn't felt my baby move for a few hours, I immediately thought the worst.  I couldn't shake the feeling that something terrible was going to happen, even though things were progressing completely normally.  I genuinely felt that, after everything I had been through, there was no way I would finally get my happy ending.

Fast forward a few months and a week long NICU stay, and we were finally able to bring our perfect 8 pound 9 ounce baby girl home.  I was immediately struck by the amount of love I felt for such a tiny little stranger.  When I placed my second child, I spent most of my pregnancy avoiding much of a connection with her.  This time, I embraced the connection fully.  I immersed myself in every piece of Motherhood, from the sleepless nights, to breastfeeding, to diaper changes, and everything in between.

I was in newborn heaven.  I was also completely overwhelmed by the demands of two children.  Although I had quite a age gap between my kids (my oldest was almost 6 when my youngest was born), I still struggled meeting the demands of both my children, while still providing the basic necessities for myself.  My husband was extremely helpful during this time, as he took a month off from work to be with us at home.

This is when it really hit me that my decision to place my second child was the correct one.  I always knew it was, but after I had a taste of parenting multiple children it became even more clear.  I struggled with the demands as a 24 year old married woman with a wonderfully supportive partner.  I have no idea how things would have been if I had attempted this feat as a 20 year old single Mom who had just exited an abusive relationship and was working part time at a pizza place while struggling to afford a single wide trailer.

Since my youngest daughter's birth, ever milestone she has reached has served as another reminder to me that adoption was the best choice for my second baby.  Adoption was the best choice for  my newborn, my crawling baby, my teething baby, my toddler, and every stage that has and will still come.

Has anyone else had a baby after their placement?  What has surprised you about the experience?

The Birthday Party

It's that time of year again for me.  In a week my birth daughter will be having her fifth birthday.  I would say that the time has flown, but in reality, it hasn't.  I have spent the last 5 years moving forward, and forward progress isn't always the fastest type of progress.  I'm blessed to be able to celebrate with my birth daughter at her birthday party.  I know that some birth moms aren't granted that luxury, so I feel fortunate that I even have the opportunity.  That doesn't change the emotional struggle that usually comes following this event though.

I do well for the party.  I enjoy visiting with my daughter's parents and other family members, and I love watching my kids all together in one place.  We usually eat a nice lunch, open gifts, and then sing the compulsory "Happy Birthday," before eating cake and ice cream.

The happy birthday song makes me tear up, pretty much every year.  Yes, I know that it's a happy song, and yes, I know that we are celebrating.  There's just something about the chorus of happy birthday that reminds me of everything that I have missed.  For me, it isn't just a song.  It's a reminder of the last 365 days that I didn't bring my birth daughter to school, or brush her hair, or have a seat for her at my dinner table.


I struggle with grief around the time of her birthday, not because I regret my decision, but because I miss all of the moments that everyone else takes for granted.  I miss the time we haven't spent together, the movies we haven't watched together, and the hugs that I will never receive.
   
Around my daughter's birthday, I miss her more.  And the Happy Birthday song is there to prove it.

Doc McStuffins

 I'm not too sure how familiar you all are with the abundance of shows that play on Disney Junior, but I have a young Minnie Mouse fanatic here, so I have a plethora of Disney Junior knowledge.  The other day, as I was watching the masterpiece that is otherwise known as Mickey Mouse Clubhouse, I saw a commercial for Doc McStuffins.  My attention was drawn to it because this season is featuring an adoption story line.  The McStuffins family is adopting a baby, and viewers will be able to follow the family through the process.

Naturally curious, I started Googling this (isn't that what everyone does?)  Adoptive families are ecstatic about the upcoming season, as the Doc McStuffins crew has done a good amount of research about adoption, proper adoption language, adoptees, and the adoption process.  They feel it will be a great way to normalize adoption with young children.

This is all great, but I wonder what role the birth mother is going to play in this scenario.  If the birth mom were involved in an open adoption with baby McStuffins, I would also be ecstatic.  Not only would this preschool TV show be normalizing adoption for adoptive families, but it would help young children of birth mothers (like my own) to see that their moms aren't different.

I worry, though, that birth families will again be lost.  I worry that, like many stories related to adoption, the McStuffins family will say, “We're adopting!” and then arrive with a happy baby to complete their family.  I worry that there won't be any statements about where Baby McStuffin's came from, and mostly I worry that the adoption will be portrayed as a closed adoption.  Closed adoptions have really decreased tremendously in popularity over the last several years, and I really feel that it would be doing a disservice to adoption to portray it this way.

As a whole, Doc McStuffins has done a nice job of portraying a family that doesn't always subscribe to the norms of society (Mr. McStuffins is a stay at home dad, while his wife is a successful career woman).   I have high hopes for this series, but I'm always hesitant when adoption is portrayed in the media.

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Choosing a Family

When people learn that I am a birth mom, I typically receive several questions. One of those questions is usually in regards to how I found (and chose) my daughter's fantastic parents. The first question is an easy one to answer; we both were working with the same adoption agency. The second question is a little more interesting to answer. I am quite honest. So honest that I typically just tell them that baseball (more specifically the Detroit Tigers) brought us together.

I have been a baseball enthusiast for as long as I can remember. I played fastpitch softball all through my youth, and still play slow pitch a few nights a week during the summer. I remember every Tigers game that I have ever been to, even the one that took place at Tiger Stadium (which I think is pretty impressive, given that I'm only 25). I'm currently researching statistics and getting ready for my fantasy baseball draft in a few weeks, and I am excited because it is almost time to upgrade my cable TV package to include Fox Sports. So, when I say “baseball enthusiast,” I'm really not kidding.

Regardless of the scientific evidence for or against God, I pretty firmly believe that he exists. I also believe that he had hand in this. There really is no other explanation for the picture that I found on the cover of my daughters' parent's profile book. As I lifted up their book there they were, wearing Detroit Tiger's t-shirts, standing at Comerica Park, and taking in a baseball game. The rest of the book was interesting, but in all honesty, the rest of the book didn't matter. It could have been blank, and I still would have chosen to meet with them.

     

My daughter has her family because of the Detroit Tigers. What led you to choose the family that you decided on?

Leaving

      Leaving the hospital.......   It's the moment that everyone fears, for good reason. In some cases, months (or days, or perhaps only hours) of counseling and thinking have tried to prepare you for the event, but in reality, no amount of preparation can make you ready for such an occasion. Some birthmothers savor the hospital experience, waiting as long as possible for the end of it, whereas others feel that leaving the hospital expediently is what will work best for them. There is no right answer, and no wrong answer.

I am a pretty open book about my adoption experience. I will tell everyone pretty much anything that they want to know about how I chose adoption, why I decided to have an open adoption, and what our adoption looks like. I however, usually stay pretty quiet in regards to the moment that I left the hospital. They're my moments; they're tragic, painful, and devastatingly traumatic. I feel like they are moments that need to be discussed though, so here I am.

   
I left the hospital exactly 24 hours after giving birth. I had the option to stay for an additional day, as my baby wasn't able to be discharged for 48 hours, but felt that 24 hours was enough for me. Honestly, I worried that if I put off leaving longer than I had to, then I wouldn't leave alone. I had prepared for the moment, I knew that it would be difficult, but I was not prepared for the crushing magnitude of sadness that befell me at that time. I knew that it had to be done, but every corner of my mind was screaming at me about how I was abandoning my baby (even though I clearly wasn't).

I've read about some birth and adoptive families having loving ceremonies where the birthmom “presents” the baby to their new family. I envy the strength of these women. I remember placing my baby into the arms of her Mom, unable to make eye contact, I was so inconsolable that I couldn't even mutter a word. I handed my baby to her, and quickly exited the room. I walked purposefully down the hall, and left. It wasn't beautiful. It wasn't this amazing, heart warming experience that I'm sure the people around me had been praying for. It was ugly. It hurt. In the midst of my grief, I played that   moment over in my head countless time.

   
Looking back, I wish that it would have been different, but I see that it couldn't have been. I wish that I could have had this amazing, wonderful ceremony where our families came together and we bonded over this wonderful person that we would all love. I wish I would have been able to tell my daughter's Mom how grateful I am that she was willing to give my child everything that I couldn't give to her, and I wish that I would have been able to express how much I appreciate the amazing pregnancy counselor who guided me through my journey, but I just could not. And I've come to realize that that's OK.

What was it like leaving the hospital, or what are you fears about your hospital experience if you are currently pregnant? Did your hospital experience go as planned, or did it change once your baby was born?     

The "What Ifs"

      I am approaching a milestone (at least in my eyes).  My birth daughter is going to be turning 5 next month.   That is 5 years of watching her grow up from afar, and 5 years of missing out on things.   It also marks 5 years of a wonderful friendship with her adoptive family, and five whole years of growth for me.

     If you can't tell, the month before my birth daughters birthday always leaves me feeling a bit sentimental.  This year in particular though, I am really focusing on the "what ifs."  You know what they are.  Thinking about if things could have been different.

     In the beginning, I often wondered what life would have been like had I not made an adoption plan.  I often dreamed of ways that I could have made it work as a single mom coming out of an abusive relationship with a toddler and a newborn.  I thought of things that I should have done, and things that I could have done differently.  Especially in the month between my daughter's birth and the court date that terminated my parental rights, the “what ifs” were very strong.

     Now, though, 5 years past my adoption placement, I have a different set of “what ifs.”  Now, when I think about what life would have been like if I hadn't placed, I am saddened.  Not because of my placement, but because I can't picture my life being any more perfect than it is right now.  If I had never placed, there's no saying that my husband would be my husband.  He is a wonderful man who took on the responsibility of raising my young daughter, when he absolutely didn't have to.   However, I wonder if taking on the responsibility of a toddler and a newborn, all while still forging a new relationship would have been too much for us.

     I also wonder if I would have been given the employment opportunities that I have had.  I worked full time for several years after my placement, and was referred to the company by my birth daughter's dad who also works there. It provided me with financial security, which I had not had for several years.   It gave us the funds necessary to pay for our wedding, and then purchase our first home.

      I do suppose that everything could have worked out exactly as it did had I not placed, but I am doubtful of that.  My adoption placement served as a springboard that led to many amazing things happening in my life.  So for this birthday, instead of focusing on the incredible sadness that was my hospital experience and the weeks following it, I am going to think of all the ways that my life went right after I placed.   I am going to think of my youngest daughter, and how if it weren't for my adoption decision, she likely would not exist.   I am going to think of the wonderful experiences that my oldest daughter has been able to have, that I likely wouldn't have been able to afford if I hadn't placed my middle child.  And I am going to think of my marriage and how God blessed me with the exact man that I needed at the exact same time that I wasn't expecting to need him.

What have been some of your “what if” thoughts, and how have you been able to get past them?

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Preparation

I was prepared. I was ready for everything that I have encountered in the last several years, from my placement, to my wedding, to my pregnancy after my placement. I researched, I reflected, I weighed the pros versus the. cons in every decision that I made. I knew that I would be sad, and I knew that I would feel fulfilled, and I knew that in the end I would have happiness.

Until I wasn't prepared.

The hard thing about life is that no matter how ready you think you are for something, reality smacks you in the face. This reality came to me after my youngest child was born. My husband and I had planned her from the beginning. She had a beautiful room in the house that we had purchased, our families were ecstatic, and I could hardly wait to finally have a baby that I would be able to bring home. The weeks flew (OK, they dragged) by and before we knew it we were at the hospital getting ready to have a baby.

My enthusiasm gave way to exhaustion somewhere around hour 17 of a 24 hour labor, but when it came time to deliver my daughter, I was able to complete the task. We were elated and completely in love. Life was wonderful.

Until it wasn't.

Several hours after her birth nurses discovered that my daughter wasn't doing as well as we had thought. This led to an emergency ambulance transport, a NICU stay, and me leaving the hospital with empty arms, yet again.

I think this is where it started for me, the anxiety. It got worse when my daughter got home. All I could think about was losing her. I was overwhelmed by a crippling fear of something terrible happening and losing my motherhood all over again. I would hardly sleep, spending my nights watching over her, making sure that she never missed a breath. When my daughter would cry, I would tremble, clenching my hands, and pacing through the room. I would do my best to please her as quickly as possible, but at times it just seemed impossible. I would find myself in the middle of a room, crying, hyperventilating, knowing what to do, but being unable to do it.

I realized that I had a problem when I quit leaving my house. I would take my baby to the grocery store when it was absolutely necessary, and I found myself wrapping her tightly to my chest in a baby carrier, never willing to risk a disaster, regardless of how small the gamble was. I was on constant alert, viewing the world as one dangerous situation after another.

After a particularly rough week, I made an appointment with a psychologist. When I left my first meeting with her, I brought something with me; a diagnosis of PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder). I was shocked. I have never been to war, I have never seen death, I have never been a victim of sexual assault, I don't fit the mold of someone who would suffer from PTSD. At least that's what I thought until she told me that many birth mothers suffer from this, usually after it is triggered by a life event (like the birth of a child). I have an incredible open adoption, and I have never once regretted my decision. However, the experience of placing a child was most definitely a trauma and I've come to see that it will continue to influence me for the duration of my life.

The great news is that PTSD is can be treated quite effectively with talk therapy. During my sessions (and outside of them), I worked hard with my therapist to rewire the way that my brain perceived things. It was difficult and it took a lot of work, but as time went by I became more outgoing and less fearful. After “graduating” from counseling I have been able to resume all of my previous activities. I enjoy going out to places and no longer view the world as one enormous accident waiting to happen.

I guess that what I'm trying to say by sharing this, is that if you ever are feeling like I felt, it is not your fault. It doesn't mean that you made the wrong choice by choosing adoption and it certainly doesn't mean that you did something faulty. I worry that other birth moms feel the way that I felt and don't get the help that they need. Adoption can be a wonderful thing for some, but it is also overwhelmingly difficult, and there is no shame in needing help, no matter how long ago your placement was. I received counseling for PTSD over 3 years after my adoption. I had no signs prior to the birth of my youngest child. I was secure in my decision, and happy with my life. I had everything going for me, and was ready for anything that life was going to throw at me.

Until I wasn't.

 Has adoption affected you in ways that you never anticipated? What are they, and how have you been able to work through them?   

Making Different Normal

It's a Saturday morning. I stand quietly at the window holding my daughter while we watch her sister play in the freshly fallen snow. My husband is by the door, piling on winter gear as he prepares to snow blow the driveway for the fourth time this week. To a passerby we look like we are living the American Dream. They don't know that we're different, and honestly, even I sometimes forget.

Most people hold all of their children, and kiss them all goodnight. The majority of Moms see their kids off to their first day of school, & most people don't cry in the toy aisle at Christmas time because they don't even know what their child likes (I'm guilty of this, I'll admit it). I suppose, you could say that makes us different.

     Most children have to worry about their siblings taking their toys from their room and borrowing their clothes. “Normal” sisters get to share secrets in the darkness, long after their parents have gone to bed. Most 7 year old's don't have to wonder who they should add to their family tree for their school project. I guess some people would say that makes my children different.

When looking at life as a birthmom, it can be really easy to see ways that we are different. In the past, I have often struggled with the differences, wondering if I sacrificed my normalcy the same time I placed my child. In a way, I guess you could say I did.

     If you looked at everyone closely though, I mean really looked, wouldn't we all be different? Doesn't everyone have something in their lives that makes them stand out from the crowd? Whether that has to do with their lifestyle choices, their careers, past mistakes, or their current relationships, I think deep inside, there's no such thing as “normal”.

     So, this year, instead of focusing on the things that make us different, I'm going to focus on the things that make us just as “normal” as every other family. We all have people that we love, jobs that we go to, pets to take care of, and driveways to snow blow. We all have walked paths that have changed us completely, and we all have had struggles, no matter what the kind. What are some other ways that we are all the same, and what are some other things that you think make us unique?  

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Birthmom Story-Amber

Hi! My name is Amber, and I am so excited to be a new blogger for the BirthMom Buds Blog! I am a stay at home mom, an awesome wife, a mediocre cook, and an enthusiastic student! My husband and I are living the American Dream in the suburbs with our two kids and our favorite senior citizen, our dog Sadie. I feel passionately about adoption, and am ready to bring you some awesome reading material.  But first, let's start with my adoption story! 

In 2010, I was 20 and pregnant with my second child. I had recently ended a relationship with my kids’ Dad, which had been plagued by abuse. While trying to heal from that, I was working part time in a restaurant, going to college, and battling to not only pay my bills, but also raise my two year old with no help from her father. I first visited an adoption agency when I was 14 weeks into my pregnancy. 

In December of 2010, I began looking at profiles of couples waiting to adopt. In total, I believe I may have saw nine of them. From there, I was able to narrow my daughter’s parents down to two couples. I brought these books home and examined every inch of their profiles. Choosing someone that you trust enough to raise your child, based on photo’s in a book is NOT an easy task! Finally though, I did it. We met in January of 2011 and I hit it off with my daughters family immediately. I felt like I had known them for years even though it has only been minutes.

On March 23rd, I had my beautiful daughter. Her adoptive Mom was in the delivery room, cut the umbilical cord, and was a great support. I left the hospital 24 hours after giving birth which was, without a doubt, the hardest thing I have ever done. I remember getting home from the hospital and feeling like the biggest failure. I felt like I had abandoned my daughter, and all I could picture was my infant laying in the nursery crying, with no one to take care of her (even though I knew that wasn’t the case). Needless to say, I didn’t sleep that first night. Or the second night.

As the nights passed though, things got easier. I continued my counseling, and I focused on being the best Mom I could be for my daughter. I saw my birth daughter once a week for a while, then once every two weeks, and now we get together as much as possible My birth daughter is growing up in a wonderful home, with wonderful people, and a wonderful extended family…and I am at peace with that.

Photo Creidt

Movies, Movies, Movies

credit: www.coscampusonline.com

There are few movies that include depictions of birthmothers I've liked and which haven't left a bitter taste in my mouth.

Recently we watched "Admission" which, semi-spoiler alert, includes a birthmother storyline that I actually enjoyed. It wasn't a movie about being a birthmother, but I thought it was realistic, yet positive, and simple and almost nonchalant (something I'd like to see more often).

More positive media portrayals of average women who happen to also be birthmothers, I believe, would help shape the overall general view of women who place their children with adoptive families, and I was pleased with this particular example. What I could do without are characters like the birthmother in October Baby, a movie highly recommended by everyone I knew who saw it, yet which I really disliked. I'm not denying that there aren't very calloused, dramatic birthmothers who do much harm to families as well as to the reputation of other women who have chosen the path of adoption for their children. I know women like that. I've read stories like that.

But I feel that many people are aware of those stereotypes and could instead benefit from hearing and seeing something different, perhaps even more common: genuine, kind, real women who faced a difficult decision. Women they can relate to. I also know so many birth mothers who don't fit the lifestyle stereotype - the lost cause, hopeless, drug or party addict who may only barely finish high school - and I want others to realize that as well.

So, do you know of any movies with birthmother stories that you can recommend? Or that you would never recommend? Which movies have really struck a chord with you, good or bad?

What are your thoughts on movies like Admission, Juno or Mother and Child? How about October Baby?

"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?

You Are Strong

credit: www.psychologies.co.uk

In my Facebook newsfeed the other day, I saw a picture with the quote:

"You never know how strong you are until being strong is the only choice you have."

Since I'm always on the lookout for blogging inspiration, this quote really reminded me of a comment often made by those in response to birthmothers: "I could never do that." Sometimes it's meant genuinely, as a compliment of strength for doing what was right. Other times it's meant to degrade, from judgment of what sort of person you must be to abandon your child.

Usually, I've heard it from the former intent, though the person is often unaware how saying they could never do that or they just love their children too much could be offensive, because of the implication that the birthmother must not have loved her child as much.

I've written on that before so we won't get into whether or not making a decision to place your child for adoption is difficult.

Instead I'd like to focus on the quote above. Birthmothers aren't uniquely strong people, somehow born with the ability to do things the average person can't. Truthfully, we all deal with our difficulties, and tragic things happen to tragically average people who have no special training in how to cope with the situation. Families of all backgrounds have had to deal with unexpected loss of spouses, children, family members. People of all ages and experiences have had to deal with serious diagnoses, have been permanently disabled by accidents of all kinds. Sometimes I read the news or memoirs and just cannot imagine how I would get through some of the things others have had to get through.

And just like each of those people who have to deal with an unexpected hardship, women who find themselves in a position where they have to consider adoption simply find their strength out of necessity.

And we can all relate to that basic principle: sometimes we have to do very hard things in life, because it's what is right, or because we have no choice, or because the benefits of that decision will ultimately outweigh the pain. Childbirth itself is one such thing, though I was the girl crying "I can't do this! I can't do this!" at the hospital (before my epidural), I still decided to have more children. Why? Because the temporal pain is worth the outcome.

Likewise, sometimes circumstances mean that adoption is ultimately the best decision, that the rewards outweigh the incredible pain for the child, the birthmother, the adoptive parents.

And when you know the truth about a situation, you'll find the truth itself will repeatedly give you the endurance and strength to get through the tough times.

"Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the judgement that something else is more important than fear." - Ambrose Redmoon

Let's Discuss!

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Occasionally I have the opportunity to speak with other birthmothers to a class of prospective adoptive parents. It's called the Birthparents Perspective Class and serves to show adoptive parents the other side, the birthmother's side. We each spoke about our stories, about the pregnancy, the hospital, the adoption, and everything after the adoption and then we were also are able to take questions such as what we looked for in a family, how to address boundaries, and anything relevant to their own situations.

Personally, I love participating in these events, just as I love blogging about being a birthmother, because it isn't something the general public or even those stepping into the adoption process know much about. So, any chance to educate, to provide a glimpse into the other, oft-forgotten side of adoption is one that I try to take advantage of.

One of the birthmothers wrote such an insightful list of "things every birthmother wants adoptive parents to know". I wish I could share it with you, but instead I'd like to prompt some discussion:

As a birthmother, what are some things you wish every adoptive parent, or everyone not acquainted with adoption, could know?

Step up onto your soapbox ;)

You Are Ever-Present

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On May 9th this year, my husband and I went to the annual Birthmother's Celebration Dinner, hosted by Adoptions of Indiana.

Speaking that night was the man who had given a speech the very first year I attended, six years ago. He stuck out in my mind because he is unmarried, travels extensively, is from South Africa and has adopted two boys, one of which  was with him this year and who we had the pleasure of getting to know.

He of course didn't remember me, which makes sense because I probably spent that evening so long ago in tears and hiding behind my hair and mom, but I remembered him.

I remembered him because he was the first adoptive parent I ever heard talk about birthmothers in such a beautiful way. His speech was a letter he had written to, I believe, his sons' birthmothers and spoke of how he always remembered her and how present she was in their lives, how grateful he was to her.

When we got to talking recently, I told him how I remembered him and then I mentioned that days after that dinner he and his sons had come to Steak 'N' Shake for Mother's Day, where I was working at the time.

"You're the Steak 'N' Shake girl! I've told that story hundreds of times! All over the world."

I had recognized him immediately and spent time talking with him/bawling as my coworkers and customers stared at me and he offered beautiful words of encouragement. I can't remember everything said but I know I ran to the bathroom afterwards and cried for awhile.

I don't know what all he has said about that story, what angle he's told it from.

But I wanted to share what he said at the dinner this year.

He shared something he had written about mothers - about his mother, who has passed, about his boys' birthmothers. He spoke eloquently about the 'imprint', the 'influence', the 'reach' each of them has in their lives. He spoke about how he sees and talks to them every day; his mother through her approval and delight in his efforts as a father, or her disapproval of their odd habits and daily fumbles; his son's mother through his relentless persistence, his strength, his smile. He talked extensively about the characteristics his son had inherited from his mother, and then at one point said that he didn't deny the separate, distinct and unique personality his son has, "but," he said, "you didn't get that from me."

And in closing, he said that when he sees birthmothers, he sees his sons' mothers. Whenever he meets a birthmother or an adoptee, there's an immediate bond, he says. We're all connected. There is understanding, empathy, respect, gratitude(maybe tears flooding in the middle of Steak 'N' Shake).

I appreciated his message so much and I wanted to share his verbal embrace and affirmation and encouragement with any birthmother out there who may need it today.

You are ever-present, you are appreciated, you are strong.

Stop the Stigma

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My grandma sent me a newspaper clipping about the stigma surrounding adoption.

"Birth mothers choose life, and a family, for their child. But this choice is rarely celebrated. Women routinely face family, friends and even health-care providers who think that adoption equals abandonment, according to researchers and conversations with birth mothers.

Birth mothers in the United States each year number in only the thousands, compared with approximately 1.2 million abortions performed annually, according to Guttmacher Institute estimmates, and 1.4 million unexpected unwed births each year. Women bucking the cultural tide generally do not publicize their choice. They are much more willing to admit they have terminated a pregnancy, adoption advocates say, than to say they have placed a live newborn with loving parents."

Now, I'm not here to open up the abortion can of worms. 

And I'm not here to say choosing to parent your child is a lesser decision.

I am here to simply educate about the option of adoption. The article goes on to describe the fact that many women don't consider adoption because it's just never presented to them as an option. Many times women may think parenting and abortion are their only choices. Of those who are aware of adoption, many hold the old prejudices that adoption is abandonment, is selfish, is damaging and therefore don't consider it a legitimate choice.

And as the article said, and as some of us know very intimately, birth mothers often don't go publicizing their decision because of that stigma.

But it may be that they only way to slowly turn that stigma around and to inform expectant mothers of the third route is for birth mothers to make their voice known - about the benefits of adoption for all involved, about the reality of the difficulties after placement, about the many stereotypes and misinformation that is spread about birthmothers, adoptees and choosing to place a child.

How do you feel about being a voice for adoption? Have you met any of this stigma? What have you done to educate others about the third choice?

The Girls Who Went Away

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A while ago, I read an extremely insightful, moving book called The Girls Who Went Away: The Hidden History of Women Who Surrendered Children for Adoption in the Decades Before Roe v. Wade by Anna Fessler.

The book highlights stories of women who were pressured or forced by their families to relinquish their children, in a time where much shame was associated with unwed mothers. I can in no way represent these personal accounts properly, I can only recommend you read it.

These stories gave me a deeper appreciation for my own situation, and a passion for educating expectant women considering adoption, and educating families on the importance of leaving the choice up to her.
Recovering from the natural pain and grief that comes after choosing a better life for your child and recovering from the pain and grief that comes from having your child taken away from you are two entirely different things.

I've often cited a huge reason for my ability to move on and heal properly being that I've never regretted my decision. There was pain and depression and mourning, but never regret, never anger at that choice and wishing I could go back and change it. I know some who have felt that regret and dealt with that pain and my heart hurts for them. How much longer and more complex their mourning is. Sadly, I've heard the stories of older women who have found a way to live despite that regret, but have in no way recovered or accepted or moved on from it.

I'm not saying every parent that makes an educated decision about adoption won't feel regret. I am saying that every parent that is pressured or forced because of an outside assumption that it is the best decision, will feel regret, anger, bitterness, brokenness. And contrary to some beliefs, they won't be able to come home from the hospital and forget what happened to them just because it was the "right" decision, on paper, according to those who were not actually carrying the baby.

It is very important that the expectant mother makes her own decision, whether to parent or pursue adoption.

""It’s funny.  The whole time I was carrying my daughter, I told myself that I wasn’t her real mother.  I really believed that.  I knew that I was carrying her but, you know, that was the party line, that’s what they told you.  The social workers said that you were carrying the child for someone else.  And I really went along with that in my head.  I guess in a way I was less tormented because most birth mothers didn’t have that kind of detachment. They knew that they were their child’s mother.  They knew what they were losing, and I was just totally out to lunch in that department.  Until my daughter was born.  I realized at that moment, that’s not the way it works.  She was my daughter.  I realized that fully, in every way, she was my daughter."-Ann" - The Girls Who Went Away

What are your thoughts or experiences?

Moving On

Moving on.

I've had an aversion to that phrase up until recently. I felt that by saying I had "moved on" or was able to "move on" in relation to my decision for adoption, I was somehow hurting my son. As though it meant that I was happy because he wasn't here or that I was forgetting him or replacing him.

In the beginning, I never even felt the need to use the phrase because that was simply not where I was. I was defined by my birthmotherhood and for the first few years, it still felt too fresh.

But I noticed strength building as the updates came and as I started focusing on my spirituality and other things in my life. I still needed a shoulder to cry on occasionally, but it was no longer a daily struggle. I was finding normal.

I married and anticipated the end of our updates, feeling content with my progress, though expecting hardship when that first year of silence came.

Our son was born shortly after our last update on R and so yet another chapter in my life began. I was taken by surprise when I felt twinges of heartache, holding my son, seeing how my life had changed, how I was an able mother now, and wondered what it would be like to have my five-year-old with me as well.

All in all, though, I knew I couldn't be here if it weren't for that decision. And life went on. I found purpose and happiness in parenting and in my marriage and involvement at church. I became more outspoken about my adoption, something that I had been too shy and insecure about for many years.

Sometimes we have a tendency to self-sabotage: if things are rough and hard and unsure, we doubt and hurt and wonder if we'll ever see the daylight. And then when the sun does rise (and it will), we are filled with new doubt and guilt and insecurity.

We know being a birthmother is hard. It requires healing and recovery. You need support groups and counseling. It involves loss and grief.

And as much as we need to prepare for that, we need to know that one day it will in fact become manageable and someday we will find peace...and it's okay. Scary. New. But good. Okay.

There's no time-limit on grief, so be gentle and patient with yourself. But don't self-sabotage and get stuck in mourning-mode when you know you've reached a new phase in the process. When you feel that peace and when you find your emotions have reached a calming balance, embrace it! You've given joy to a family, and happiness and opportunity to your child, and after much grieving and burden, it's your turn to find comfort for your decision, enjoyment in your life.

How are you doing with your healing? Are things still bleak, or can you see the sun rising in the distance?

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It's A Process

One thing that is so obvious is that every situation surrounding adoption is different, which means the healing process is experienced differently by each birthmother.Thankfully, in the midst of variety, there are several things that any birthmother can benefit from. Here are some things that helped me:

Counseling Ideally, finding an adoption counselor can be so important and it's especially something to consider even before placement. The lawyers we went through provided counseling. This was my first experience with another birthmother, and because I was never told what to expect post-placement, it was continuously relieving to hear that my feelings and experiences were normal and would get better in time.  Even if you can't get a counselor, do seek out another birthmom that you can confide in, which leads me to the next suggestion:

Support Whether it's through BirthMom Buds, the On Your Feet Foundation, or another other support group that meets up in your area, get involved! Even birthmothers who are fortunate enough to have supportive family and friends have all shared that having the support and friendship with other birthmothers has been essential in their healing. Some things we'll feel and think won't be things that can be understood by those who haven't been in our shoes.  Also, often organizations will offer opportunities like retreats, speaking, support groups, Birthmother's Day dinners and ways to help other women. These can be empowering, comforting outlets that have various benefits depending on where you are in your healing.

Acknowledgment Whether it's privately, known only to yourself, or with a significant other or trusted friends and family, find a way to acknowledge big days like birthdays and Mother's Day or Christmas and holidays that you find important. If you have a semi-open or open arrangement, send gifts and do thoughtful things for the family. Even if you have a closed arrangement, I've heard many helpful stories of private boxes full of cards, scrapbooks, and other mementos dedicated to children.  Often women find comfort in memorializing their children, whether with a tattoo or special piece of jewelry.

Writing Feelings are going to change, memories will fade and recording these things can be extremely therapeutic as well as valuable in the future. Some agencies also allow a letter to your son or daughter explaining the circumstance of their birth and things you would want them to know. Even if you're not able to send a letter, writing one and keeping it safe can help and may also be useful in the case of a reunion.

Patience (with yourself) A big part of getting through the rough patches is cutting yourself some slack. It's okay to be angry. It's okay, even if it hurts, to be depressed. It's even okay to be okay. Let yourself feel. Also, we're all different, and depending on how long ago we placed, we either may be very passionate about telling our story and helping others, or we may be very drawn to privacy. It's important to give this thought and decide what we're comfortable with. There is just no right or wrong answer, and it's okay to change your mind multiple times.

What have you found to be essential in helping you find your way as a birthmother?

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