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?

Building Friendships through Adoption

People who hear about my adoption say, "Wow you are so strong!" The truth is, I was only able to get where I am today with the online and in person community of birthmothers who have supported me from my sons first breath to now.


I found out early on in my pregnancy that there was not many people who could give me advice on what to expect after the adoption because well, they weren't birth moms.  Once I found my therapist, who has been a birthmother for 40 years, I felt so much more at ease knowing what to expect after the adoption, ways to cope, and it just felt amazing to talk to someone who had been there.

Not long after having Noah, I attended the BirthMom Buds retreat as well as in- person support groups at a local adoption agency.  Needless to say, I had met a huge group of strong, intelligent women who I could now talk to about everything I had been holding back from my family.  I love my family and friends but it's hard for anyone to relate to someone who has not been there.  

Having a friend who is a birth mom is unlike any friendship I have had.  When I talk about my son, I don't feel like she is looking at me and pitying me or holding anything back because she doesn't know what to say.  When I talk to my support system of birthmothers, I feel listened to and know that they can relate to my situation.

Having a strong support system to lean on is key after placing! There are so many online support groups and retreats in all different parts of the U.S. for this reason.  

Surround yourself with people who get it!

Noah's Box

I have a special box for Noah.  This box contains everything I have of him.  In it is the scrapbook I made for him, letters to him from my family, the photo album that made me choose his adoptive parents when I was pregnant, his footprints and hospital band, and letters I have written to him.

Where do I keep this box? 

In my bedroom closet.  Does does that mean I am ashamed of my son and don't want to share his pictures? Not at all!

I love, love, love sharing pictures of him growing up with anyone who asks, he is my pride and joy! 

However, Noah's box has more than that.  It has hospital pictures, letters, things from the hospital...it is a box of painful, beautiful memories that I have to take a deep breath before looking at.  I have to prepare myself before opening his scrapbook, before reading the beautiful letters, and before holding the hospital band he was wearing when I gave him to his parents.

It is a painfully beautiful box of memories.  It symbolizes the beginning of this journey, which has not grown to be much more beautiful than painful.  Is it still painful?  Absolutely, depends on the day.

This is a long road, but with each day that I know my son is being loved by two parents, I feel stronger.  With each photo or visit, I feel happier.

Every time I get to add a new memory with Noah to the box, I feel stronger.

    

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.

Gifts

My son was born November 23rd, so my thought a couple weeks after, were "What in the world do I get both him and the most perfect parents that are loving and taking such amazing care of my son?"

No gift could show how grateful I was.

The truth is, I think adoptive parents struggle with this "perfect gift" scenario as well.  I think the "perfect gift" is the gift of having a relationship with them and showing our love for the child we share.  When it comes to material items, I have always gone for the meaningful gifts instead of what the latest popular toy or the "bath and body works" gifts for the adoptive mom.

The first year, I bought Christmas gifts for both Noah and his parents along with birthday gifts for him as well.  I plan on getting his mom flowers or something small to send her when she graduates with her Doctorates degree in Education this summer.  It really is just about showing your love, not how much money you have.

If you cannot afford to buy toys or other items, send a childhood book you had growing up or a card with a meaningful message in it.  Simple and sweet is the way I go about sending gifts. 

In the end, it is all about the love you give!

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So I placed my child...now what do I do?

After having Noah, I knew what I had to do.  I had to move forward.  But...what did that mean?  For someone who did not experience what I just did, it would mean getting a job and getting back to "normal".  But how in the world could I just go back to the way I was before?

I decided I would have to create MY new normal.  I grieved. I surrounded myself with people who supported me who did not make me feel bad about placing my child.  I am so thankful that I did not shove my feelings in and instead, experienced them the best I could.  My instincts were honestly to smile and pretend nothing had happened because that was the easiest thing to do.  Now, did I ever do that?  Of course I did.  I sometimes had to depending on where I was.  But 90% of the time I let my emotions take control.  

While going through all of this, I applied for jobs and eventually found my dream job teaching 5th grade.  I love it.  I also get to see Noah every 6 months and get an update with pictures every 1-2 months.  Those updates are what keep me going.  The first year is the hardest and now I take every day as it comes.  

If I could give future birth moms one piece of advice, it would be to cry, cry, and cry some more surrounded by the ones you love. This may sound painful but after you let those tears out, you feel like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders and eventually, that weight doesn't feel so heavy anymore.  

Lots of Love,

Erin

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?   

Birthfather's Family

When Noah and I first locked eyes
(To this day I have never felt love like that)

I found out a couple months ago that Noah's birthfather was going to have another child with his girlfriend.  My thoughts? Shock, anger, curiosity, and most of all...I feel helpless.  I do not even know if his girlfriend knows about Noah.  Will their child grow up not knowing that she has a half sibling just 1 state away?

These unanswered questions are so tough.  I cope with them by not allowing myself to get to involved mentally.  I did tell the A-parents, only because I wanted Noah to know if he ever asked them.  I still don't know if I should send them a picture when she (its a girl) is born.  The birthfather has no relationship with the A -parents so I feel like my role is the messenger...which is not okay.

Adoption is a complicated, beautiful, sad, joyous thing.  There are two sides.  Each side includes all of these emotions.  I hope Noah grows up and eventually has a relationship with his half siblings (both on mine and the birthfather's side).  I have to accept that I can only do so much, which is a very hard thing to accept because I love my son more than I thought I could love anyone or anything.

Ending with a fun fact...I found out that our sweet baby's fingerprints were created by them tapping (or hitting) our wombs while we were pregnant.  How cool is that?!

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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New Year, New What?

As the new year begins, we once again look at our lives and our new year and try to make it better than the year that came before.  Often that means looking at our lives and deciding what needs to be changed.  For me, that's going to include attempting to come to terms with certain parts of myself.

If you're wondering why this launch into self-discovery, it's because I've found out that my son has inherited some of my qualities and conditions I'd rather he hadn't.  Thus far, he has shown signs of anxiety and problems with sensory overload.  My father had these problems as did I.  My son's adoptive parents are getting him an occupational therapist and getting him the help and care that my father and I never got.  For that, I am glad.

I wasn't sure why the school suggested they get him a therapist at first.  After all, my father and I had gotten along just fine without one.  But looking back I realize that both I and my father could have benefitted from help like that.  This past year has proven to me unequivocally that I am not done learning how to handle my problems.  And I think that finally addressing them now will help me help my son's adoptive parents and my son as well.

I've already formed a plan and will be putting that into action soon.  I won't lie and say I'm looking forward to this.  Examining one's self is often a painful and frightening expedition.  But I have been down this road before.  And as this will help my son, I'm determined to go through with this.

I hope you are all having a good day and stay safe!

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Walking on Eggshells

I have a great relationship with Noah's A-mom. However, that doesn't mean I am always comfortable and don't say "what if" every now and then.  Noah is with her, not me.  She has the control.

She is God's gift to both myself and Noah but I re-read texts I send her and spend hours searching for the "perfect Christmas gift/Mothers Day gift" for her.  I have thought about why I do this and I believe it is because sometimes I am looking for confirmation that she does approve of my existence in Noah's life.  Not only that, but I want to have a great, healthy relationship with her.  

                                                                                 

Have you ever felt you had to get confirmation that you ARE good enough?  I think it's so important for us all to remember that we are.  We did what we thought was best for our babies at that time, and that decision gained me not only a son, but a second family.

I wrote two letters when Noah was born, one to him and one to myself.  I knew I was going to be struggling and wanted to have a letter to read to reaffirm why I made the decision I did. Lets face it, hormones after birth...yeah.  This letter contained every reason I made the decision I did and it was one of the best decisions I have made.  However, this "walking on eggshells" habit is something I need to break.  I AM GOOD ENOUGH.  I did not make the decision to place him because I didn't think I would be a good mom, I made it because he wouldn't have an active father.  These little things are worth remembering.

Lots of Love,

Erin

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?

Where Do I Fit In?

I recently had my fourth visit with my daughter E.  She is now 19 months old and is becoming a little person with her own personality.  It's an amazing privilege to see and watch her grow up and I will be forever grateful for that.  I know how truly lucky I am to be able to visit her at all.  I was able to take my niece and little sister along, as well as her birth father.  We all had a blast at the zoo together and it was an amazing day.  The adoptive parents and I were extremely close throughout my pregnancy and post placement, but time goes on and life gets busy.  We still communicate monthly and have our visits twice a year, but I cant help but think where I fit in in this picture of E's life.

She is the most amazing girl I have ever seen, and even though I am not sure I truly believe it myself, I feel like deep down she knows who I am.  I know her adoptive parents have told her that she grew in my tummy, but how much of that does a 19 month old really understand.  But when I held her against me and when I chased her around the zoo, I felt like there was an unspeakable connection.  She knew who I was, or at least felt that I was familiar.

So what does that all mean?  I am not her mom.  I will never really be her mother.  I am her birth mom.  I gave her life and I held her so tight in that hospital, but then I had to let her go.  I have moved on with my life in so many ways.  I am going to school with hopes of graduating in the spring, I have made countless new friends and have a new job.  I am supporting myself without help from my parents, something I would have never done had I parented.  I think about her daily and I know I will continue to do so forever.

When I was watching her with her mom and dad I couldn't help but feel like an outsider looking in.  I saw the little family that I helped create.  I saw her look for her mom when she was out of sight.  I saw her grab onto her dad and I felt that love between them.  They are her parents.  It is hard to fully come to terms with something like that.  Knowing that no matter how close I am with them, with E, I will never be her mother.  She will never call me mom.  She wont come cry to me with her boo-boos.  I'm not going to hold her when that first boy breaks her heart.

At our visit I had a really important moment with her adoptive mom.  A moment that is going to stick with me forever, that helped me discover my place in this ever so complicated relationship of adoption.  We were discussing all of the rude comments we get as birth parents and adoptive parents and sharing stories.  She told me about how someone asked her how she was going to deal with the dreaded "You're not my real mom" that was bound to happen one day.  I cringed at that.  I cant stand the thought of E saying that to her mother one day, but we all know eventually it will come.  Her mother told me that when she does have those moments when she feels like she doesn't fit in and questions everything, that she is so glad that I was there to hold her hand.  She was thrilled that when E gets older and she is having her own crisis that I will be there to help her.  She said she was happy that she would have someone there that is an amazing a trustworthy person.

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What does Adoption Look Like?

My adoption journey has not been long compared to that of many birth mothers, but in my few years I have come to realize that adoption has many faces. Time has changed how many people view adoption and what can be expected, but even among those with the "same" kind of adoption there can be many variations. So the reality is that there are differences , but why then does it seem So many people have a picture in their heads of what an adoption should be?

Along my journey I have struggled with changes within the adoptive family, and my own, and how these changes have in turn caused a change in my relationship with my son. I often wonder how the adoptive family seems to be swayed by the ideas of what they, or others, have pictured of what adoption should be.

Between all of us birth mothers here how many of us have the same story? None. We all have a unique journey and different wants, needs, and desires. We often share emotions and common thoughts or feelings, but we are unique. So why can't our adoptions all be as unique as we are?

Each child that has been adopted is unique. Each birth mother is unique, and each adoptive family is unique. What is right for one family may not be right for another, but that doesn't make it wrong. How do we decide? Well for me, and other birth mothers I have talked to, the decision making resides with the adoptive family.

As a birth mother this feeling of helplessness and lack of control is incredibly scary. I see that someone else is entirely responsible for making decisions for my son, and these decisions often affect the children I am raising at home.

Adoption is not easy. There does not seem to be one correct answer, but I believe there are MANY! As birth moms we have made the most unselfish decision that could be made for our children. A decision that often causes us unbearable pain. I know that when I made this decision I trusted that the adoptive parents would always make decisions for my son based only on what was best for him. So what do we do when we feel that is not happening as it should? Well... I have yet to figure this one out! I do not know if there is anything we can do but pray, trust, and believe things will work out as they are meant to be.

I hope that one day the world will see the many faces of adoption. Each situation is unique and that is OK!! When the world can accept the many different realities of adoption and the lives of birth mothers I believe so many things will be easier. We do not need to fit the mold of someone who secretly placed their child for adoption. We should be able to be proud of our decision! Our adoption relationship does not need to be any particular way, but rather should grow and blossom in whatever way is best for the child first, birth mom and adoptive parents second.

For anyone who is having a hard time and needs the extra support, just remember: be strong!! Be proud!! Be brave!! Love hard!!! 

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Times We Couldn't Share

Every time another special celebration comes and goes, my heart feels a little empty, despite the joys shared with friends and family. I always stop and think about what it would be like for my son to be apart of these celebrations. As I write today I am particularly focused on this idea, because my family is on their yearly vacation to the lake house. Each member of my immediate family, along with their spouses and children gather in one home and share a week of fun on the lake in my dad's boat. It has always been one of the highlights of my year, and has been a large part of my life since I can remember. It is hard not having Aidan here with the rest of us. It is hard knowing what we all are missing.

For me I miss seeing Aidan with all the other kids running and playing. I see my two girls play together and can't help but feel like something is missing as I long to see him there as well. I miss seeing him play with all of his cousins, and enjoying the special bond they all share. It is hard to accept that he will not experience all of these things as he grows. It goes even deeper at times as I see the way of life that he is not experiencing. So much of what I learned about myself was learned on these trips. It provides a chance to escape the realities of life and experience life as a family unit without the distractions. It taught me strength and determination as I learned to ski and do other water sports as a young child. I learned how to really enjoy the company of others, and to deal with disappointments as they come. I know all of these things can be learned in other ways, but for my family these special moments are often shared alongside the water. It is hard knowing this is not a central part of my son's childhood.

I must believe that he will find these things in other places, and maybe someday I will have the opportunity to share these special moments with him. Each time I think of the moments we are not able to share I am forced to accept the reality, and to be honest, it is extremely difficult. Each birthday party we do not share, each holiday that passes, every family gathering: all of these are bittersweet. I want so deeply to fully enjoy all of these things with the ones who are present. It becomes especially hard when I see my girls, and I want to be fully present for them in those moments, and I do the best I can. I choose to love life as it is, and work through the sadness as it comes. No matter what I do those feelings are always there, very real, very strong. I honor him and my girls through those moments and live life to the fullest. Someday he will understand the pain I CHOOSE to feel was always for him. These times we couldn't share simply remind me of the real love I have for this little boy and the choice I made for his life. For all of us birth moms - we must remember how heroic our choice was!! How many people willingly take on the most difficult pain imaginable for the love of another? We know sacrificial love, and our children will be blessed by our love.

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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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Changes

Lately it seems like life has been a constant roller coaster of emotions. Things seem to fall into place only to fall apart. This seems to be true as well with the journey of being a birth mother. For me, this is a central part of who I am. Each day I feel the pain as if it's new, and each day I choose to smile through the hurt because of the joy I see in my son's eyes. As life moves forward each day brings different challenges, and recently I have had the chance to really reflect on the realities that are my life now, 5 years after my son's birth.

I seem to be at a crossroads in my life where everything seems to be changing all at once. For someone like me change is never easy. Especially when it comes to my relationship with my son and his relationship with his biological siblings and my family. When I was 17 and making an adoption plan for my son I knew that someday I would have other children and a family with me all the time, and I knew I wanted ALL my children to have a relationship. I think I knew it would be difficult at times to understand the situation surrounding each child's birth and how it all fit together, but at that time in my life I could never understand how deeply the changes that would occur could affect my life. As I began to grow and become the adult I always wanted to be I started to realize these things were going to affect my relationship with my son.

None of these changes would be my choice, which would make it all so much harder. With the birth of each child there seemed to be struggles with the adoptive parents as to how it all fit together. I could not, and still do not, understand how the birth of a sibling could change the love we all shared. As the adoptive parents were able to have other biological children things became even more difficult. To be honest, I cannot fully tell you why. I think this is simply one of the more difficult things we must experience as birth mothers within an open adoption. We do not have control over the choices the adoptive parents make for our sweet children. I cannot decide what will happen, and it is a feeling of complete at total fear as I have no control. It affects my son, but it also affects the children I am parenting.

It's hard to imagine how life will change, even if for the better, and that this could affect the relationship we were promised with our child. We all have different relationships and expectations,but for me it has always been depicted as an extended family. We have shared holidays, family get togethers, countless hours spent together, phone calls, pictures, tears, laughter, joy, and sorrow. We have walked the journey together as birth family and adoptive family. I trust that this will always continue, but as my life changes, I am fearful of the future.

As I face yet another time of change in my life, my husband and I await the birth of another child this fall, our children are growing, and my son is becoming more aware of things that surround him. I fear the things he may not understand, and the things I am not able to explain to him because I feel a longing as his mother to calm all his fears, to chase away any doubt, and to most importantly assure him of ALL of our love. I pray that he can feel my love and that through the changes and the hard times we will continue our relationship as it has always been, based on love, trust, and honesty. I place my son in God's hands and trust that no matter how hard the changes in life may be, the love we share will always be there, strong and pure. Always and Forever.

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Nature vs. Nurture

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The First Birthday

My daughters first birthday is coming up later this week and let me tell you, it has been a strange month. I’d like to think that I have been doing pretty well over this last year. Yes, I have cried when I needed to cry and yes I have been in touch with my emotions and yes I have had bad days when I didn't want to get out of bed, but all in all I have had a pretty good year. I returned to school and got my very first job. I am at peace with my decision and I know I did the best I could have done under the circumstances, but this last month has been so hard. Every time I think about her upcoming birthday I want to cry. I am sad that she is growing so fast and that it feels like yesterday that she was rolling around in my belly keeping me up all night. I have just been plain sad these last few weeks.

 Even during my pregnancy I never had a time like this where I was just sad. It has taken some getting used to and after talking to several other birth moms I realized that sometimes this is just the way you are going to feel. There will be times of the year that are just harder than others.  Everyone grieves differently and for me it took a year before I was feeling this level of sad. Trust me I was devastated in the beginning during those first few weeks and leaving the hospital with nothing in my arms, but that didn't last long because only 8 weeks after placing I returned to school 3 hours away from home and was able to keep my mind a little busy.

But now as this first year comes to a close I have been feeling emotions I didn't quite know was possible.  And for those of you, who are also in their first year; don’t let anyone ever make you feel bad for how you are feeling. Honestly this really applies to any birth mother out there, but if you feel like you have to cry everyday then do it. If you don’t feel like you need to cry, then don’t. Grieve in your own way. Every adoption is different and so is every birth mother.

This last year has taught me that there is no right or wrong way to grieve. We are all strong women who have made it through one of the hardest things we will have to. We survived and we are thriving. I am proud of every woman on birth mom buds who has made it through one of the hardest journeys in life. 

We have made plans to facetime on her birthday with her and her parents, even though she is only a year old and she most likely wont sit still for long, I am so excited to see how big she is. Just seeing her for a minute on her birthday would make me feel so happy and relieved to see how far we have come in the past year.  And I will be sure to let everyone know how this "visit" goes.

How did you handle your child's first birthday and the first year after placement? How did you grieve? Were you able to contact or speak with your child? 

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