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.

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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.

Getting Through the First Year

My first year after placing Noah was excruciating.  Now he is only 16 months old, but I think the reason why the first year seemed to be so hard is because it is a year of the basic "firsts".  Any time he accomplishes something (ex. walking), I feel proud with a small pain in my heart.  It's just tough not being there to see it,

And if you are going through the first year, know that it WILL get better.  Although at times I felt angry and depressed, I also felt happy at others!  It's a roller coaster, but I have some suggestions of things below that I did during the first year that really helped me.  I hope they help you too!


1. Write to your child. 
I cannot emphasize this enough.  Writing allowed me to fully express my emotion and thoughts without holding back (thinking people were judging me).  I also can show Noah my letters to him when he's older so he knows how much I do think about him.  He will have these letters forever.


2. Make a scrapbook.
One word- therapy.  I had two visits with Noah, but got monthly pictures.  This was life changing because it was like I was actually there.  It was so therapeutic for me to just go through the process of picking up the printed pictures, adding fun captions, and placing them in there.  I was doing something for him, which I don't get to do that often.  I made this book with his footprints, hospital bracelet, our printed entrustment ceremony (the handing off at the hospital), and pictures from the time he was seconds alive on this Earth to his one year birthday.  I can't wait to give this to him.


3. CRY
Sounds weird, but crying was the most freeing feeling for me after Noah's birth.  I was so in shock that when I signed my rights away, I wasn't feeling anything.  It hadn't hit me what I was doing.  I had prepared myself for that moment, but I had no idea what it would feel like to be a mom.  I did not actually cry until 3 weeks after he was born.  There were just so many emotions going at once, so when I was finally able to process my loss- I literally just sat in my car and cried.  I found a safe place to cry because I didn't want my family to hear me.  I love my family to death and I just didn't want to upset them.  I also was able to cry when I wrote letters.  Holding all that grief is exhausting, and when I finally let it out little by little- I felt amazing.


4. Keep busy!
Hang out with your friends, watch dumb YouTube videos when you're sad just to laugh, go on road trip, apply for some of your dream jobs!  Just make sure that when you know you are going to have a tough day, surround yourself with positive people to try to lift you up.


5. Let yourself move forward
You placed your child for important reasons.  Remember why you placed him/her and live your life the best you can.  I know it is very hard to move forward with your life after such a loss, believe me.  I did this by applying for a teaching position.  This was moving forward for me.  Am I moving on from my son? No way! I will always want him in my life.  But I chose to place him to give him the best life, so now I want to have the best life I can too :)

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?

Getting Back to Normal...Or Not

After you sign those papers, the papers that you never imagined you would sign, your heart breaks in ways you never prepared yourself for. I thought I had things in place that would cushion the blow-so to speak-when I got home from 48 hours of nothing but holding my new baby girl in my arms and then placing her in someone else's. But, I was wrong. I didn't know that reading those lines, word after word, I would keep being shattered as the words bounced off the page. I was rolled out of the hospital with tears wetting my face when all I really wanted to do was stay. Stay in the room forever, holding this 6 lb 4 oz perfection. Today, it hasn't got easier. It just got different.

Saying bye to M and B and Mini M, I was in a daze after. For days I was just floating through day by day, sleeping as much as I could. I used the fact I just had a baby as an excuse, but really I just didn't want to face the reality. I slept on the couch near my parents room, because I was terrified of sleeping in my secluded pink room, by myself. I laid next to my mom when I could and cried. My heart ached like it had never done before and I didn't know if it would ever stop. But, it did. Some where along the way the ache became normal. I didn't cry all the time and I moved my pillow back to my bed. I became functioning and ready to go to work. I think of the missing part in my heart and the hole is still existent. I will always have it there.

I never thought I would date again, but I have. I never thought I would be able to talk about Mini M and not cry, but I do everyday. I don't think about her birth dad like I did, I don't want him back and I laugh when I think of my choice in guys before. My "normal" changes. My normal used to be no baby and dating when I wanted, doing what I pleased, then it went to me being a birthmom with an unshakable pain. Now, it is me being a workaholic, a proud mother, unsure of my standing with M and B, and having a big picture that I often forget. I didn't go back to a normalcy, I created a new one and I continue to.

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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.

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.

One Day at a Time

Five years after placement and a simple word, a picture, or a memory can refresh my tears and sadness.  I've been down this road before, actually more times than I can count or want to admit to.   

I'm sure you have been there, as well.  It is not a pleasant place to be.  Who knows how long this episode may last or if you'll need help working through it.  No matter what the case may be, every one's path is different.   

Right after placement there were certain things you did, or said to help you express your grief and work through it.  There may have even been someone there with you holding you up when you couldn't stand.   Whatever the case may be, and with each round of fresh grief you find things that do and don't work for you. Through this healing process the episodes become less frequent and less painful.  

So when a fresh round surprises you, remember what has worked for you in the past and continue to move forward and heal.  Its okay to feel what you're feeling, don't suppress it.  Allow yourself the time and space you need to work through all the emotions.  Don't let anyone hurry you through your process.  

My latest episode was on Sunday when I was attending church and a woman was talking about her newest and second adoptive son of three months.  Her 5 year-old son was so excited about their new addition and how their family felt complete.  She was being so great at hiding her excitement, but tears of joy were showing.  Her tears were contagious, but mine were filled with sadness, for I knew that I didn't feel complete.

I left the room to express my grief through more tears and was greeted by some great friends who lent me their shoulders.  No questions asked, just a simple act of unconditional love and allowing myself to express sorrow.  

That is one example.  Whatever the case may be for you, don't feel rushed.  Also don't try another's path, it may not work for you.  This is your story, your grief, your sorrow.  Fine tune the process, but keep going one day at a time.

What worked for you in the beginning?  How has it changed?  What do you do now?  What didn't work for you?  Share your thoughts, they might help another birth mother. 

Unexpected Visits

For my first official post, I wanted to tell you about something that happened a few months ago that I had worried about happening and perhaps some of you worry about it too.  My son and his adoptive parents live about twenty minutes away from me.  As such, there was the potential to run into each other accidentally, but this had only happened once at the local farmer’s market.  The encounter was slightly awkward, but we parted ways after about thirty minutes and I was able to go home and recover the rest of the weekend.

In October, I was invited to come to an open mic poetry reading at a bar and restaurant in the downtown area.  I had a new poem that I had written and I thought, what was the worst that could happen?  Well, one should never ask that question.  I was standing outside the restaurant when my son’s adoptive father and mother waved at me from inside the restaurant.  My son, J, was also with them.  I went in thinking, “It could just be a fluke.  They could just be here for a nice dinner.”  Yeah.  Right.

“Are you here for the poetry reading tonight?” were the first words out of my son's father's mouth after greeting me.  As it turned out, HE is the leader of the open mic poetry reading group.  J actually walked me up the steps to sign up for a place in the poetry reading that night.  Coming back down, he met one of my friends and it was the first time any of my friends had met my son.  It was an interesting night to say the least.  He stayed for a few poems, but then was taken home by his mother after a few poets read their work.  After all it was past 8 pm and he was only a couple months past three years old.  Sitting still for poetry is not a skill three-year-olds are known for.  He gave me a hug and a kiss for the first time when he left.  I and my friends stayed much later and I got a chance to talk to his father about several things about their life with my son and some details about their side of the adoption process that I’ll post about at a later date.  The last thing that he said to me was that he hoped I kept coming to the readings and bringing more of my work.  I went home that night a bit shaken and it took me a few days to get over that.  I just wasn’t emotionally prepared to see them.

When I spoke to my parents about it that weekend, their reactions were positive.  But my father could still see that I was cautious.  Later that week, I found a hand written letter from him in the mail.  Let me just emphasize how important that is: the man is a computer programmer.  He is by no means afraid of an email.  He’s on Facebook and Twitter.  He’s about the most technologically adept 60 year old I know.  But he had decided to send me a hand written letter.  I knew that whatever he needed to say it was important.

His first words were that we never had to discuss this again, but he had something he wanted to say to me and make sure that I heard him.  He suggested that I keep going to the poetry readings.  His reasoning was that over time I would get to know J’s parents better and by proxy J better.  Eventually it would be easier for me to see them and it wouldn’t be as much of a shock to the system.  The words that made me cry were when he said, “I say this knowing that I could not do this myself.  But in this, I believe you are stronger than I am.”  I was bawling in my car for about ten minutes after reading that.  But after some calmer thought and a few more tears, I realized that he was right.

My father and I have never discussed the letter.  But he does know that I have been going to the poetry readings once a month ever since.   I have, over time, learned more about my son’s parents and their lives.  Sometimes it’s actually easier than sending an email about a visit.  Sometimes I just talk to his father at the monthly readings and then send an email a day later so everyone is on the same page about everything.  J has turned up a couple more times and I have handled it better than the first time.  Next month he will be turning four years old.  Sometimes I just think time moves too fast.

Have any of you happened to run into your child and their parents unexpectedly?  Or have you ever feared it happening?  If you have, I understand.  And if you ever do, I can report that it is survivable.  It was difficult.  But I was lucky that night in that I had a couple of friends with me who were more than happy to hold me together.

I hope all of you are having a wonderful day and I will see you all again next week!

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Three Things about Grief

If birthmothering is your first grief experience, I'm sorry. I'm sad for anyone who grieves. And although loss is a part of living, the way we grieve and experience grief is as different as our DNA. By the time my dad died 10 years ago, I had already been grieving the loss of my firstborn daughter to adoption for about 17 years. Although losing my dad was different in many ways, caring for myself as I was grieving and knowing what to expect remained the same.

First of all, you never know when or where grief will strike. Sure, you can learn your triggers and protect yourself that way. But sometimes when the stars, hormones, and memories align in just the right way, a tidal wave can hit you out of seemingly nowhere. It's important for you to recognize when that is happening and take immediate action. Delaying grief only makes it worse. As soon as you can, get alone and get it out.

Second, grief is like an onion. Yes, onions are stinky as is grief. But there's a little more to it. Onions have layers (remember Shrek?) as you slice through them. Each layer can differ from the others in thickness and odor. Now apply this to your particular situation for a moment. Yes I know it's crazy, but really.

Here's an example from my own birthmom journey. There were years that Katie's birthday came and went and I hardly noticed. Summer ran into fall ran into winter and so on. Suddenly it was spring, and her March birthday had come and gone. But then there were other years when the grief was so heavy in December that I could barely make it through the holidays much less hold on until March. It is still amazing to me that her 17th birthday was the hardest one I had experienced up until that point and I had been practicing for 16 years!

Anyway, my point is that grief is a continual journey and while today may be good, tomorrow may be a totally different story.

Finally, we can only grieve up to the developmental stage we are at. For example, I grieved Katie the best I knew how at 20 and 25 and so on and was at a what I thought was a 'good place'. But when I started having my own children, it was a whole new ballgame. Even though she was already 18, taking care of a newborn for the first time really shed light on all I had missed as her mommy.

Just yesterday the grief of losing my daddy hit me anew. It was a rough afternoon of remembering and crying and journaling. But at the end, I felt like I could breathe again. Is it okay? No. Not yet. But I continue moving forward finding comfort in my routine and taking time to remember as needed.

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Life After Placement

Right after I placed, it's almost as if my life was put on hold. I wallowed for quite a long time. I put myself in the "victim" role. I often told myself I wasn't good enough to be a mother, so that's why I placed. I cried for days on end during the summer after Micah was born. I constantly felt sorry for myself. I convinced myself that what I was going through was to be expected. And to an extent, it was. But feeling constantly depressed and angry isn't what placement should be like.

I started seeing a therapist in May of  2012 and attempted to get my life back on track. My therapist and I discussed my resentment towards my parent and towards myself. In that dark time in my life, I kept blaming myself. "If I would've been more prepared... If I would've settled down... If I'd known earlier... If I wasn't 17..." But then we came upon common ground. It was my "fault" I got pregnant, but it was my choice to give him a better life than I could have provided. In a way, I did sacrifice some of my teen years. I went from being a somewhat popular girl in high school, to not knowing where I fit in. I became separated from my friends in high school because no one truly knew what I'd been through. 

In my town there's literally nothing to do. We have a movie theater that's going bankrupt, a bowling alley that mainly just holds tournaments, a few diners, a coffee shop, Elizabethtown College, and the high school. Oh, and we're in the middle of Amish country. Most of the teenagers in my town either become drug addicts by the time they're 16, are obsessed with everything "country", or get pregnant by junior year. A lot of my friends are mothers or college students, so it gives me a catch 22. I don't really fit in with the teen moms, but I don't really fit in with the college kids either. Granted, I'm going to community college, but it's just not the same. I tried going to a 4 year school but I just wasn't ready.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that whatever you decide to do, you have options. Placing your child for adoption gives the both of you a better opportunity in life. Don't let yourself succumb to the "What ifs". Just go for it. I had to learn that the hard way. 

What are your plans in life? Are you in school? What would you like your career to be?

Photo: (wo months after I placed Micah, I graduated from high school.

Dealing With Post-Adoption Depression For Birth Mothers

So just out of curiosity one night, I googled "post-adoption depression". I mainly found sites and articles about adoptive parents. "Many adoptive parents are suffering from a common complaint called Post-Adoption Depression. It's a real condition that many in the adoption community are unaware exists." That's valid, but what about birthmothers who are experiencing post-adoption depression? It's no secret that every birth mother grieves the "loss" of their child. But there's really no information out there on post-adoption depression relating to birth mothers. 

I was honestly shocked when I saw that. Without birth mothers, there would be no adoption! Sure, there's sites and articles about postpartum depression, but in a sense, that applies to mothers who are actually raising their children. I tend to stay away from that term. In this quote from the Mayo Clinic, "Postpartum depression isn't a character flaw or a weakness. Sometimes it's simply a complication of giving birth. If you have postpartum depression, prompt treatment can help you manage your symptoms — and enjoy your baby." The main thing that sticks out to me from that quote is to "enjoy your baby." But the truth is, I can't really do that. None of us can. 

Birth Mom Buds is a fantastic resource for us, I just wish there were more "medically accepted" articles for birth mothers to explore the disorder. Depression is depression, and you can call it whatever type you want, I'm not trying to take away from that. I just wish there were more medical professionals who acknowledged the loss we've all went through. There's so many articles on postpartum depression and even post adoption depression. The month after I placed, my adoption counselor recommended a therapist who specialized in placement depression with birth mothers. I recommend this to all birth mothers I come in contact with. (By the way, if you google "post-placement depression", it's mainly geared towards adoptive parents, too!) 

So, as of today, I'm creating my own diagnosis for our grief. "Birth Mother Placement Grief  Disorder." Sounds professional, doesn't it?! If any of you wonderful ladies would like to share your experiences with "Birth Mother Placement Grief Disorder", please leave a comment below. I'd love to hear your stories/opinions. 

Until next week! 

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Forgiving Yourself

One adoption related issue that I still struggle with is forgiveness; particularly forgiving myself. Forgiving other people for what I felt they did or did not do wasn't always easy but it is something that I have been able to work through.  Where I struggle in terms of forgiveness though, is with forgiving myself.


What do I have to forgive myself for you might be wondering? Well, I have many guilty feelings about a variety of issues surrounding Charlie’s conception and subsequent adoption. I feel guilty for the mistakes that led up to Charlie’s conception. I feel guilty that I wasn’t in a position to my parent my son at that time in my life. (Let me clarify though, I don’t feel that Charlie was a mistake, just the actions that led to his conception.)

I looked up the word forgiveness in the dictionary, which took me to the word forgive and then gave me this definition.

Forgive: verb a: to give up resentment of or claim to requital for (forgive an insult) b: to grant relief from payment of (forgive a debt)2: to cease to feel resentment against (an offender) : PARDON (forgive one’s enemies)

I know I have to learn to forgive myself. I cannot beat myself up constantly for the mistakes that I have made, things I didn't do, or things I wish I would have done differently. I know those things are in the past, what’s done is done, and I can only learn from them and move forward. Unfortunately, life doesn’t have a rewind button where we can go back and fix our mistakes. (Boy, don’t you wish it did!)

To me, it just seems so much easier to forgive another person for something, than myself, but lately I have really been working to forgive myself. I start by praying and asking God for forgiveness but that was easy compared to the work I have to do within myself.

Recently, I wrote an apology letter to myself. It may seem a little hokey, but it really did help. I wrote a letter apologizing to myself for the things I feel like I let myself down on. I then, wrote myself a letter of forgiveness, forgiving myself for the things I felt I have done wrong. It really has helped me on the road to forgiving myself.

Anyone else out there struggle with forgiving yourself? What have you done in order to try and forgive yourself?

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Still Angry

Since we're having so much fun talking about anger, let's talk about it some more. I know lots of you have strong feelings about this issue but aren't commenting. How come? I would love to hear what you have to say. We're all in this together.

Naming our anger, calling it what it is and bringing it out into the light of day is far healthier than keeping it locked up inside. Remember, living things don't stay buried forever. They always find a way to come out.

When I was growing up, my family was very secretive about sex. My parents never talked about it. It was something dark, sinister, and bad. No matter whose household I was in, my own or one of my grandparents' homes, that was the atmosphere when it came to sex. I realize part of that was generational.

But there was another part. A part that knew sex as dirty and shameful and secretive instead of a beautiful gift. Even though my parents were as closed as they could be about sex and all things related to that topic, I managed to shine a bright light on the family dysfunction. How could I possible know about a history of sexual abuse in my family when no one told me? How could I know the thing that would shame my family the most?

Consciously I didn't. But I believe that my subconscious knew something wasn't right and was trying to work it out. Maybe I sensed that my parents' marriage wasn't all it could be. Maybe I felt that someone in our family should be having sex, so why not me?

This is an example of living things that don't stay buried forever.. they always find a way to come out. I know how crazy it sounds, but I've had lots of years to think about this. And I don't think it's any coincidence that my actions shined a bright light on our family's dysfunction. I think there's more to it than that.

So more than you wanted to know about me and my family and definitely not what I was planning to write about. But here it is.

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What About Anger?

Hello ladies! When asked, some of you responded that you would like to see some discussion around the issue of anger. While I don't think I have any kind of magic potion to dissipate anger, I want to talk about what you all want to talk about. So here we go.

First the dry facts.

Anger comes from three primary sources: frustration, hurt, fear. Anger is not actually a primary emotion, it is something that happens over time when we fail to deal with what's really going on inside of us.

So, for example, you're frustrated with the adoptive parents, but take no action to change things. Or maybe you do take action to change things, but nothing changes. If you allow it, that frustration can turn into anger, which is a whole different animal.

Or take hurt for example. You were wronged by your boyfriend but have never dealt with the raw feelings that created. Instead you build a wall and get angry instead of dealing with your real issues of feeling unworthy or unloved.

And fear. This is a good one. Because I think we're all afraid of things that we may not recognize we're afraid of. We're afraid of losing what little relationship we have with the adoptive parents or our own birthchild or whomever.

So that's a quick review of what anger is. But what do we do with it?

I personally don't think we can live healthy fulfilling lives while we are carrying around a load of anger. In my own life I have seen the physical and emotional drain of constantly nursing those feelings, rehearsing the wrong-doers' actions over and over in my mind. Keeping those feelings of hurt or fear or anger or some combination of all three alive. It is exhausting. I know. I carried anger around in my heart for years.

Whatever frustration or hurt or fear you are carrying must be dealt with honestly and openly. Now I'm not necessarily suggesting you get alone in a room with someone who hurt you. That might work for some people, but could be a total disaster for others. Instead, think more along the lines of expressing yourself in a safe place.

• Write a letter you never intend to send.
• Talk it out with a trusted friend or counselor or no one. There are often times I speak out loud to my empty house just so I can get out of my own head and back to reality.
• Cry, scream, bang things, throw things, have an all-out tantrum if it helps. But safety first; make sure you are in a safe place and there is no one else around who could be hurt with flying saucers.
• Join a support group. Those people understand like no others some of the particulars of your hurts/fears/frustrations. Online and in person there are many choices these days. I have been pleasantly surprised this year to meet so many women both on line and in person with whom I can identify.

One of the dangers of anger is burying it so deeply that you become passive to it and don't even realize it's there. You have carried it around for so long that it is just part of who you are. That kind of anger is harder to see.

Ok. Your turn now. Start working on your anger by doing one of these things this week. If you are reading this and think that it doesn't apply to you, look again. Take a closer look. Maybe you have buried your anger in order to move on with your life. But something alive and kicking like anger doesn't stay buried forever.

Maybe you are genuinely healthy and have something to add to this list. Be sure to leave a comment so we can all glean from your experience.

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Twists and Turns

The journey of adoption is filled with so many twists and turns. There are many turns and forks in the road along the way.

One of the most difficult aspects of placement is that things change. The future you plan for your child is not set in stone. The expectations don't necessarily happen. The circumstances that led you to choose placement also, God-willing, change as well.

As I have stated before I made a plan for my son's future. I wanted Frogger to have a mother and a father. I wanted Frogger to not have a life defined by financial struggle. I wanted Frogger to have the stability that I was unable to give him at that time.

Almost immediately there were HUGE changes. Within a year of placement, I began my career. I immediately doubled my salary. Within two years, I was getting married. Three years and we purchased a house in a great neighborhood, with great schools. Not only were we able to not struggle financially, but we took vacations and had savings.

On the other side, the AP's adopted another boy within only a few short months of Frogger's placement. I was happy for them. Proud that Frogger would have a brother to grow up with. But, that was not in MY plan. I expected for him to be an only child for at least a year. I expected that he would have a chance to settle in and adjust to his new life before there was another massive change. My feelings were at odds with each other. I was happy, yet, I was disappointed. I had in my mind that things would go a certain way. It was a difficult adjustment to accept that expectations are rarely met.

Although R & P never mentioned it, based on the pictures I received in the beginning, they separated within a couple of years and later divorced. What? How could this happen? At this point my life was everything I thought I was giving my son with R & P. I felt overwhelmed with questions, with grief.

Although, I still did not regret my choice, I would be lying if I said this wasn't a difficult time to remember that. I had to remind myself over and over that I needed to remember the circumstance of then. Not now. I had to believe in myself. I had to trust that I made the best decision for that time. I had to believe that although things may not have been playing out the same way I planned, that I did OK.

When you make an adoption plan you find yourself in a fantasy world. The one where everything works out like you hope. The one where all your expectations are met. As you travel the road you realize you can't see what is around that corner up ahead. You don't know what fork in the road you will take or the adoptive family will take.

I choose to believe that Frogger is happy. That his parents continue to provide for him. That both of his parents continue to be a huge and positive influence in his life. I can not guarantee that. But, I hope. I believe. I have to. I have to believe in them. I have to believe in me. I have to believe that Frogger is living the life that was intended for him.