One More Day...

Happy Birthday...

2012-01-29T00:01:00.000-07:00

Happy Birthday sweet boy. Today I will miss your sweet face more than usual. The sting of loss will be a little more acute. Today I will also try to celebrate that amazing day 9 years ago when you changed my world. I am proud of you every day, I love you every moment, and I am always grateful to have had my short time with you.

I hope your day is filled with laughter and love. I hope it is a special and memorable Birthday. I hope you always remember how momentous this day will always be in so many lives. I love you boy, and I always will.

Crash

2012-01-24T22:12:00.003-07:00

I have affectionately come to think of the week before my son's birthday as "The slow crash". For me this is a time in which my mind is always split. I cant do a single thing without thoughts of him, of our time together and of how he is doing. While washing the dishes my mind will wander to thoughts of 9 years past. While I am grocery shopping I will forget something because his face seems to hover within my brain. Cherished and painful memories of his voice and his hand in mine. A distant and still poignant ache in my chest.

It starts every year on the 22Nd of January. All of a sudden the memories flood in, and I am 16 again:

On that night 9 years ago my sister and I spent the evening together. My mom took pictures of us both, extremely pregnant and posing belly to belly. My sister had been feeling uncomfortable all day, and that night she went into the hospital. I went too, but was soon turned back out the door with my little man still in my belly. My nephew was born on the 23rd. He was 6 lbs 12 oz, and he looked like Elmer Fudd (I called him Elmer for weeks after he was born, to my sister's annoyance). I held him and felt so happy for my sister, while also feeling a burning jealousy. I watched her hold her baby boy, kiss him and feed him and love him freely. I felt guilty for praying my child would stay put so that I could love him as his Mom just a little longer.

Those nights weren't the hard ones, or at least not the hardest. If they were tough for me then I don't remember, those days before his birth are so shattered by the events they lead up to. I remember the days seemed to fly, even as I wished I would not have to separate myself from this piece of me.

Now, 9 years later, I dread his birthday. Not because having him was painful, but because after his birthday comes the aftermath. For the most part January 29Th has not been excruciating for me since his first birthday. The days I dread are the 3 after that. Memories from our time together flood my mind, I cant focus, I cant sleep and I cant stop thinking about the inevitable bittersweet thoughts. I always know that day will come, February 2Nd, the day I handed a piece of myself over to his Mom and walked away. I know how this all ends, but I still relive it each year. Sometimes more difficult than others. The last few years I have found ways to distract myself. Work, family, friends, activities, sometimes a few drinks. It's worked mostly, numbing what used to be a devastating crash into a minor breakdown that I can manage.

This year all the distractions are out the window. His Birthday is on a Sunday, meaning not much in the way of distractions. I'm not working, and so my only sources of distraction are Cookie and A. I think I will be OK on that day, and I even planned a little party in Dawson's honor. We'll eat dinner, have cake and enjoy some company that night. I think the real kicker for me will be those 3 days after. I will be home on my own, A will be working and so I will be alone with those memories.

Here's hoping that after 9 years this crash will be easier to handle.

So Sorry...

2012-01-18T19:40:00.003-07:00

I wanted to just get this post done before I explode. I want to apologize to my (admittedly limited) readership. I know most of you werent paying attention to whether or not I wrote anything or not. Honestly, this lull started with the holidays, a happy and amazing time was had by our family and I just didnt have the time or want to write. I was much too happy and much too busy to get back to this. Obviously it's now well past the holidays, and now my reasons for the lull have somehow morphed to the point I am lost in all the things I want to write about. I have started several posts that I cant seem to bring to a logical ending. I promise I will keep working on it. At the moment things are really difficult for me. Most notably my son will be turning 9 on the 29th. Birthdays are always difficult but this year will be different because for the first time I pretty much have no plans. I will have to face it without the buffer of work, or other people to distract me. So if for some reason I manage to not write again until after that, I apologize. Again...

Music In My Heart...

2011-12-16T09:30:00.002-07:00

I've decided to go forward with a somewhat unconventional post today. It has been a rough couple of weeks for me. As you may have realized by my last post, I lost my Grandmother. I have also had many other things going on. Hence the reason I have not been posting much lately. All of those things led me to the need to express something that means a lot to me.

Today I want to talk about music. It has been an integral part of my life since I was a baby. My mother has an amazing singing voice, my Dad plays guitar and his voice is clear and wonderful as well. Both of my Grandmothers are musically talented, and Gram (the one who died earlier this month) was an inspiring music teacher and played piano beautifully. So with all of that family history I'm sure you can imagine that my siblings and I all have some talents in that area. My sister's both played instruments, clarinet, flute, bassoon, and piano. One of my brothers has the most amazing tenor voice I have heard outside of professional artists. Another brother played trumpet, and all of us have a great love for ALL kinds of music. Growing up we heard classical, opera, oldies, rock, pop, country. I cant speak for my siblings but for me, this made me a lover of ALL types of music. I inherited my Mom's strong operatic soprano voice, and if I'm honest I haven't really been developing that talent very much recently. It's a sad reality that I am trying to work on, because Gram would have wanted me to.

I remember when I was in the midst of choosing a family for Dawson, and my only major requirement was that they have musical ability. I knew I wanted my son to grow up with the same musical surroundings that enveloped me as a child. I wanted him to have a love and understanding of the profound emotional connection a person can have with melody. An understanding of the balance in a good harmony, and the beauty in contrasting chords when trying to convey emotion. Music is the only language that can truly express our feelings, the highs and lows and all that comes in between. That's why I will never run out of posts for "Adoption Art of the Week", because there will always be a song or a lyric that brings my son to mind, that makes me feel the sadness or the peace again. I will have an endless supply of beautiful music to put forth and show how profound it is to my life.

So my challenge is this: The next time you sing along to your favorite song, don't just hear the lyrics. Try to listen to the music behind it and see how much it adds to those words. Our lives would be a very empty place without those notes and melodies. When that song comes on the radio that brings you back to your childhood, feel the awe in knowing how simple and how amazing that is. Understand that music is a powerful force at work in this world.

For me, music will always be a piece of who I am, just like my family shaped me, so did the music that surrounded me. I am grateful for a family who understood that teaching me to love music was about so much more than entertainment. I am so glad that Dawson has the opportunity to have that same love fostered in his life through his parents and sister. I am proud to know he has a strong musical family, on all sides of his life, and I know he will find the importance of it because of that.

Five Minute Friday: Color

2011-12-09T20:30:00.003-07:00

It's time for another edition of Five Minute Friday!

Every friday there is a prompt, and in the words of The Gypsy Mama herself:

"For only five short, bold, beautiful minutes. Unscripted and unedited. We just write without worrying if it’s just right or not."

This week's prompt is: Color

GO

Color is a strange way to think of it. This week my world has been splashed in shades of grey and black. Mourning the passing of a Grandmother and friend, trying to be there for my mother while still processing my own greif. I don't even know how to explain how I feel. I can't even bring myself to wear brightly colored clothing.

Always in my mind are the thoughts of what I should have done. I should have called her on Thanksgiving. I should have sent more pictures. I should have...

I couldn't bring myself to go to her house, to travel there and see her funeral and watch others mourn for her. I will not be there to see the flowers and the tears. I can't bear the thought of being in her home without her music filling it. Its too much to ask of myself to have to say goodbye again. She is here, in my heart and in my music, always. I have sung for her each day since she passed and I hope to continue...

I miss you Grams...

STOP

Sorry this didn't end up being very on topic. I still need some time to process things I guess. Thanks for being patient while I am going through all this. I will try to get back on the topic of adoption soon.

Holiday Grieving

2011-12-04T09:00:00.003-07:00

Grief, I know many birthmoms who feel such debilitating grief during this time of year. Some people believe the pain fades away, but they are wrong. In the first few years my reactions to the pain were stronger, because the pain was newer and I had no skills to deal with it. In the same way that a strong smell is overwhelming at first, but as you sit in it you forget it is there. Only occasionally, when someone else comments on the smell, do you remember it was there. It's always there, always a part of the atmosphere, but you simply become immune to it's power over time. The amount of anguish I feel over missing the Holidays with my son has not diminished over time, as some would believe it has. I don't cry as often about it, that is true, and I have many more moments of joy than I used to. This is not because I have moved past it, it is only because I have felt these emotions so often that my reactions have changed. I certainly have a support system to turn to, and I also have more skill at looking through the grief to the happiness on the other side.

I love the Holiday season, I always have. I remember waiting impatiently for Christmas morning, shopping for my siblings and friends. Being so excited to see their reactions to my gifts. I can certainly find that excitement again, and I enjoy all of these things as I always have. With Cookie around, it's a little more easy to do, because I get to give her gifts and see her reaction to them.

I will confess, for a long while I have not sent Christmas and birthday gifts to my son. Some birthparents find a certain amount of relief in knowing their child will be able to get gifts from them. My enjoyment in giving has always been about seeing the joy that those gifts entice. I lost interest in sending gifts when I realized that I would not be able to see him enjoying them. I buy him things when we visit, and I love seeing him light up like that. Perhaps it sounds callous that I would not send anything, and maybe it is. I know my mom sends them gifts occasionally, and I know they don't expect gifts from me. Another problem the last few years has been my financial status, it's tough to get together the money for sending gifts when you are a single mom, or living on your own, surviving paycheck-to-paycheck.

This year things are different, so I made the resolve to send them something, even if it is something small. I sent them a picture already that Cookie colored for them. I also have a book to send as well. It's hard not to want to buy an entire store out for them, but I am taking it slow.

I know that this year will be just as hard as the last 7 have been, and I will miss seeing Dawson open gifts and participating in many other traditions. I will be able to experience those things with Cookie, and that is some help to me. I also know that A will be there to lean on when times get tough for me. I hope that those who are not part of the adoption world will understand a little better how these occasions can effect a birthparent. I also hope that birthparents out there will understand they are not alone. The sadness and grief are normal, and you will get through it. I wont give you false hope that this will go away, but I will say that it gets easier. I suppose that is the best we can hope for.

Things I've Learned About Being a Mom

2011-12-03T09:00:00.000-07:00

1. Toddlers will inevitably want your food, but not their own, so get used to eating food that is soggy from baby-saliva.

2. It's REALLY hard to teach your child not to do something when you are laughing at them.

3. Bodily fluids and excretions are no longer gross when dealt with daily.

4. Bedtime can also be known as "The threshold of Mommy's relaxation time".

5. Any object is a phone to a 20 month old.

6. Someone who rings your doorbell after your child's bedtime (even if it is 7pm) is a giant A-hole automatically.

7. Milestones like crawling, walking and talking are all so fun to think about before hand. After they actually happen you realize how easy you had it when they COULDNT run away from you or talk back!

8. Your children will always be the cutest, most beautiful, and most talented.

9. One of the hardest sounds in the world to hear is your child calling after you when you have to leave them.

10. Everything is more difficult, and yet more beautiful, with your children.

Five Minute Friday: Tired

2011-12-02T09:44:00.004-07:00

It's time for another edition of Five Minute Friday! Every friday there is a prompt, and in the words of The Gypsy Mama herself:

"For only five short, bold, beautiful minutes. Unscripted and unedited. We just write without worrying if it’s just right or not."

This week's prompt is: Tired

GO

You're so tired, your tiny eyes droop and your little fists rub away at them. Signalling the end of another evening and the beginning of another length of "Mommy time".

You cling tightly to me and allow me to rock you back and forth. This is how I remember the early days. How blessed I am to have you to snuggle beside me and help me see the simplicity of life's joy.

After the babbling stops and the house is quiet, I find myself slumped into the couch. Tired. No, exhausted.

So much has happened for us and to us. So much has made life more promising, yet more difficult. I feel an ever-abiding sense of exhaustion, it seeps into each moment, but these moments are the worst. Letting my guard down allows such crippling fatigue to finally have it's way with me. I wonder when will come a time where I do not feel as if it has sapped each moment and each breath from my body. Will there come a day when I can simply revel in the feel of my child's head on my shoulder? Or the gentle hand of a strong man atop mine? So much ahead to get through, so here I sit, finally able to be and not just do.

STOP

Changes...

2011-11-29T13:53:00.004-07:00

I was having a nostalgic moment earlier today. I kept thinking back on who I used to be and what has changed in my life, especially in the last 10 years or so.

It sounds like such a long time, 10 years, but it doesn't feel like it was that long ago that I was in my teens, pregnant and scared. Of course the first major things that come to mind when talking about changes in my life are the big ones: I can hold a job, drive a car, I live in my own home, and I am (what I would consider) somewhat successful.

What I really got hung up on though was my character back then. As a (pre-pregnancy) teen, I was a little out of control. I was definitely selfish, I had no respect for my parents or for myself. I was promiscuous, defiant, self-absorbed, entitled and a downright brat. I had no appreciation for anything.

Another tough part for me was actually after-the-fact. Even though I felt so much more grown up and responsible after I had my son, in many ways I wasn't. In fact, I may have regressed a bit (I am not saying this happens in every case of placement, but for me it was an issue). I relied on my parents, did not keep a job, leaned heavily on whatever person I happened to be dating at the time, I refused to get my license. I wasn't a disaster of self destruction, but in some ways I think I was scared of what "growing up" might mean. Would all my experiences as a fully grown human being be as painful as placement? Would it just be one hurtful thing after another? Would all my fairy-tale dreams and happy-ending expectations be shot down as the ones regarding my son were? It was too hard to face those realities, and so I stayed at home and stagnant for much longer than anyone else I knew.

I was still living with my parents on my 21st birthday. Still with no license, no place of my own and no sense of self, that was when it all kind of hit me. I needed to get out of there. Out of the cold winters that made my depression worsen, out of the memories of broken promises and missed experiences, and out of the constant reminders of placement. The whole city wreaked of sadness and pain for me, and it was hard to love a place so much while also hating it vehemently.

I took a leap, and I think it was the first in a series of truly grown up decisions I would have to make. I moved almost 2000 miles away from anything I had ever known, I got a job, paid rent, lived paycheck to paycheck. I had a lot of help along the way. Family I never really knew came out of the woodwork, and now have become my lifeline here in this desert I call home. I know I needed that space, and now when I go to my home town I can revel in the good memories, the love of my family, and the wonders I was too distracted to see before. I learned that while being grown up does mean you have to do hard things, it also means you start to realize the truths about life and about yourself. While I dont believe in fairy tales anymore, I can still make plans for my future knowing I will be able to be happy no matter what happens. Finding the balance of beauty after the pain was so rewarding.

I wont say that I was quite ready to be fully adult about everything after I moved. Relationships were an issue for a long time, and I had a really hard time trusting people (especially guys). I learned a lot more lessons, got the chance to have wild parties and experiment with who I wanted to be. Without the pressure of other's expectations I thrived and moved forward.

I think the final catalyst for my transformation came when I realized I was pregnant with Cookie. She was the kick in the butt that I needed to fully accept the role of adult. I needed to be the person she could rely on, someone who could make the tough choices and do the hard things for her. Pregnancy was scary and hard, especially when I was mostly on my own (although without my family and friends I never would have made it through). Once again my Mommy mode kicked in, and this time I didn't need to shut it down, I lived each day for the joy of my daughter. I breastfed as long as possible, followed all her Doctor's advice, and made sure she was healthy and happy. When we met Albert and he and I started dating, it was like all of a sudden all the pieces fit together perfectly. I know who I am, and he accepts me as I am no matter what. Knowing that this is possible makes it all worthwhile.

I'm glad I had the chance to learn some of these hard lessons, and I know that I still have a lot more lessons to learn in this life. At least now I understand that those hard experiences always make way for something more beautiful in the end.

There is No Roadmap [or: A Belated Thanksgiving Post]

2011-11-26T13:30:00.001-07:00

I'm having a really hard time writing lately. After writing out several rambling posts which had no real conclusions I have come to the realization that there are just some times when I cant focus on adoption. Sometimes I need to focus my writing on myself, and let it flow where it may. Adoption and placement are an inherent part of myself, and most of the time the writing comes to me easily, but today and all this week I am distracted. Darkling subjects catch my attention and drag it away from what I wish I could eloquently say. So I will say what has been on my mind lately, without regard for whether it is adoption related.

First: I would like to say a big fat F* you to cancer. This insane disease that seems to effect so many people has taken the life of a co-worker and friend this week. I will be attending services for her this afternoon. I am outraged at the brutal and random nature of this plague. At the same time I feel so helpless and out of control. No amount of human grief will make a difference, and I understand that. I wish I had the power to eradicate cancer from existence, but I also understand the balance in all things, and that for each light there must be a dark. I'm sure in it's place would come some other suffering for us to bear.

On this week which should have been focused on family, friends and celebration, I was focused on the grief of losing a bright soul. It gives me a profound sense of sadness to know she is not in this world any more. It also throws my life into sharp focus, of all the weeks for something so horrendous to happen, this was the one in which I had difficulty truly sharing how I felt. In a time when all are listing the many blessings they are thankful for, some being possessions, family, friends and other generalities. I wish I could list all the many pieces of my life that are so integral to making it whole. I know that this Thanksgiving, I was sad but also grateful to have known my co-worker and friend for the short time I did. She was a shoulder to cry on when we lost another co-worker and friend a few years back, and ever since that day I have seen her in an entirely new light. A feisty and outspoken woman of much character, who loved people deeply and truly cared for the well being of those around her. She was high strung and anxious, demanding and honest. She said bold truths without blinking, and knew the importance of remembering those we love.

Platitudes about being thankful for "family" and "friends" do not do justice for the true gratitude I feel for each person who has touched my life. I am astounded that I have been so lucky as to have known great and incredible people in my time. I was raised by two flawed but loving parents, who see the good in me no matter my faults. I have upstanding and amazing and strong and vulnerable siblings who help to ease my path as we each walk through life together. I was given the gift of being a birthmother to the most amazing little boy, I was also given all the tools to make the right choices for him, and to move beyond my grief when the time was right. I have the most gorgeous little girl, who touches my life daily and makes me see the simplicity of what life is. I was blessed enough to meet a man who truly complements me in every way, who sees me clearly and loves me through it all. A man who allows me to cry and talk about things openly in my own emotional way. A man who was willing to fill the hole in our little family and make it complete.

The human emotional experience is an amazing one. While I glory in the amazing and awesome experiences and relationships that have brought me to this point, I also mourn a loss and hope that no more are imminent. I wish there was an instruction book for these experiences, I wish there was a roadmap to make choices easier.

There is no roadmap. No easy way to know that your experiences and choices will be good, bad, or make no difference in the end. It is the hardship and also the beauty of life, to know that you will impact events, but to have no inkling of what that impact might be. I only hope that in the end my good outweighs the bad, and that I can be seen as the well-intentioned, if flawed, individual I am.

Adoption Art of the Week: Ode to Love

2011-11-21T19:32:00.009-07:00

This week I would like to share a piece of art that has touched my life beyond measure. It was a poem written for me and given to me after I placed. My good friend's mom became like a second mother to me throughout my childhood and into my teens. She knew that I placed Dawson, and she wrote this for me. She is so talented, so caring and so amazing. A true example of a wonder woman and a super mom. I think of her as an extension of my family and I feel lucky to have had the chance to have her as an example in my life.

This is going to be really hard for me to copy, and if I am being honest I was not able to even read through the entire poem for a long time after placement. It sits in a special place in my son's baby book which my mom made for me. I still often find myself looking more at the fancy font than the words because it is so hard for me to relive the emotions I was feeling during those times. So here is one of the sweetest gestures anyone has ever done for me (and I am already crying and I haven't even started copying it yet).

Ode to Love

By Andi McGrew

My baby son

I want you to know,

That your Mama

Loves you so.

My heart broke

As I watched you go.

I so wished I could

Watch you grow.

But son, I couldn't give you

All that you would need.

I wanted for you

The best life you could lead.

You'll be in my heart

For as long as I live.

Ensuring your future,

Was the best gift I could give.

When you read this someday,

Please know that I cared.

I mourn for those moments

We might have shared.

Grow up happy and strong

And my heart will rejoice

And always know

That I made the best choice.

Five Minute Friday: Grow

2011-11-18T15:31:00.004-07:00

It's time for another edition of Five Minute Friday! Every friday there is a prompt, and in the words of The Gypsy Mama herself:

"For only five short, bold, beautiful minutes. Unscripted and unedited. We just write without worrying if it’s just right or not."

This week's prompt is: Grow

GO

Nurturing the love I feel for my family, allowing the growth to happen in a natural progression. Time passes, and as it does I see my babies slipping away. Into new adventures and new growth, new skills and new maturity. It's beyond scary for me. I have a child who is almost 9 years old. These are no longer times when he will not remember what is happening. No longer days when he is innocent and new. He is a young man, and soon will come into his own as a person.

Cookie grows so much with each passing moment. The months seem to slip through my fingers even as I try desperately to hold on. Talking, walking, learning, living, finding herself. This is a time of endless discovery and I am blessed to be part of it.

My love grows each day, for each of my beautiful children, and the man in my life who makes all of my dreams seem possible. The roots we have put into this sandy ground have become my constant comfort. I am in my own place in life, with no regrets. This is home. This is where we belong.

STOP

Sorry I missed the prompt last week, it's been a bit crazy around these parts (obviously). I'm glad I get the chance this month to find gratitude and joy in my family. I hope you will appreciate yours as much as I have come to appreciate mine. Having love in this holiday season is a wonderous thing. I hope all of my readers are well and loved this season, and all others to come. Thanks!

Adoption Interview Project: Meet Kenna...

2011-11-17T08:36:00.004-07:00

Today is Adoption Interview Project day! Its been an interesting couple of weeks, getting to know another blog and learning more about the blogger herself. For a more comprehensive list of the blogs that are involved please go visit this post at Prduction, Not Reproduction.

For the project I was paired with Kenna, whose blog is called iWrite. At first after reading some of her posts I was in awe of her strength. She has had so much hardship in her journey and she could have given up. Struggling with infertility, health issue, two failed adoptions, seems like almost too much for one human being to deal with. Now for her trouble she has a beautiful son, and a wonderful family. At times her blog reads as heart-wrenching, while at others you see the humor that she uses to diffuse the hard stuff. It's an amazing combination of insightful and funny. Very few pieces of writing can make me cry, and then laugh while those tears still fall. She has that unique ability. I hope that others who see this will come to understand how inspiring her writing is. I also know that many will just laugh at her hilarious antics. So here is our interview, which makes me giggle with glee:

Describe yourself in as few words as possible. What is the most important thing for people to know about you and your blog?

Insane but genuine.

As far as the blog goes, the most important thing I like people to know is that it is honest. Some people don't understand what this means, which confuses me, but I am very real is what I write and how I write it. Yes, I do understand that there are lines, but sugarcoating my experiences isn't going to help anyone, especially me, as I write because it is cathartic. No shame in having human emotions. I have found in so many instances people are ashamed of the more intense and I guess, 'frowned upon' feelings. I have been through some very horrible and painful experiences, and there isn't any reason to hide that. I figure, 'How can I expect to help anyone if I am not true to what I went through?' I have been chastised for it, but I refuse to be emotionally stunted because it's on a public forum.

Tell me about a memory you never want to forget. Give as much detail as possible.

Since we are on the topic of adoption I think about the day Boog was placed with us. After two failed placements, one of them basically torching my soul, it was such a healing balm to my soul. Boog was 12 months old when his birth mom first emailed us, and 14 months old when we were placed, so there had to be a transition period that isn't usually included when adopting a newborn. My husband and I were in Texas for one week before placement, and one week after, but something about the day of placement (December 10, 2010) is so very special to me. It wasn't like most placements I had heard about. We weren't at a hospital or the agency; just sitting on the couch at Boog's birth family's house. Sadie (Boog's birth mom) sat next to me, and the notary public and her caseworker sat across from us on chairs with dinner trays as their table. Her caseworker read aloud what Sadie would be signing, and Sadie signed with no hesitation. It was truly an amazing thing to watch. We knew she knew that she was doing the best possible thing for Boog. Then it was our turn, and the same thing went down. Caseworker read what we were going to sign, and we signed. It was notarized, and we gave Sadie a huge hug, and then she had to leave for work. Josh and I got into the car with Boog and kind of looked at each other like, 'ummm, crazy, right?!' I think that because we weren't leaving for another week that it wasn't as hard on Sadie, because she knew she would see him the next day. Same goes for us. We knew it wasn't necessarily goodbye yet (although when goodbye came we all LOST it) so we were able to prepare a bit more. It was just such a peaceful day. It was the first time I felt like I was breathing normally in years.

(insert my sobs here. can't write about that day without bawling)

Are you a dog person or a cat person?

Sadly I am allergic to all animals, but I have a dog. My husband and I both grew up with animals so I imagine we will always have some ourselves. Plus, our kiddo loves, 'goggies', so it works out. Also, I should probably admit that when it comes to grown up cats I see them as a football. Easy to punt. Then again, kitties are adorable! I feel so torn right now.

Tell me about someone in the adoption world who has inspired you. What about them would you like to emulate?

This seems almost impossible to answer because there are so many people in the adoption world. From fellow adoptive moms, to birth parents, my kiddo, my case worker, even my therapist (if it wasn't for her I would never have tried to adopt again after our failed placements).

I admit it. I can't pick one person. I have been inspired by all.

However, there is one thing all these people have in common. Love. Sound corny? Sure does, but it is completely true. Adoptive parents have so much love to give. Birth parents love their child so much they want it to have the best chance at life possible. My caseworker loved me enough that during the months after our first failed placement she checked in on me constantly, which included staying up until midnight to wish me a happy birthday. My therapist gave me courage and loved me enough to know I shouldn't stop trying to adopt.

This is what it's all about. Love, love, love, love, lovey love. It's pretty awesome.

How has being a parent changed your view of the world?

I think it has made me much more, er, scared. I was going to say pansy ass, but am I allowed? There wasn't anything I was really worried about before Boog came into the picture. Now that I'm raising a kiddo, I am terrified. So much evil and wrong and gross and sick things going on right now. Then again, I am a true believer of where there is dark, there has to be light. There are so many amazing things available to my son that weren't when I was a kid. I am surprised a lot of us made it to adulthood. From medical advances, to options for school and careers when he gets older, it's endless. The world doesn't have to be terrifying, and I try really hard not to convey my nervousness to my kiddo. Kind of intimidating when all you want to do is raise a good, caring, productive member of society. It seems these days it's always about taking the easy way. What's fastest. What gives instant gratification.

Oh man, now I'm scaring myself.

Tell me about your husband, how has he changed you? How has he changed because of you? What is the best example of how your relationship flows?

Basically I married a saint. I would have left my sorry self a long time ago, but for some reason he is still around. He must like a good challenge...

Josh is everything I've ever dreamed of in a husband, and more, which is you know, total bonus for me. I was a little, how do you say, rough around the edges when we met. His kindness and love for me helped smooth out a lot of issues I had with myself and the world in general. He has given me a lot more hope in the world, people, life. I think more than anything he has pushed me to be better in all aspects of my life. Sounds cliche, but it's completely true.

Ha, Josh would say that I corrupted him, which is partly true. He never used the word, 'douche bag' until he married me. He also never yelled and shook his fist at idiot drivers, but I figure that is a good trait. I just asked him if I have changed him for the good in any way and he promptly said, 'No.' What a punk.

How do you give an example of a relationship? Do you watch Modern Family? Claire and Phil? Totally like that, but with more kidney punches and open handed face smacks.

Okay, but really, we fit together perfectly and I am amazed every day that I got so lucky. He feels the same, because let's be honest, I'm a freaking catch.

What would you change about the adoption process if you had the power to do so?

Why do they have to look in my tub for the home study? Think I'm working on some booze in there? Keeping a pet alligator? If I had a pet alligator I would obviously keep it in my pool in the backyard, not in my tub. Have you ever tried to take a bath with an alligator? Yeah, it goes about how you are picturing it in your mind.

Seriously, though, I don't know what I would change. I see some things as kind of a pain, or frustrating (how much it costs, the paper work, the intrusiveness of it all) but I understand why it's that way. Of course we can say, 'Drug addicts have babies all the time and they don't have to have someone checking in their bathtub...' but this is a chance to give the child the best. possible. home. So, if it means becoming a parent, I will do whatever it takes. Even if that means my caseworker has to pry into my sex life, look into my tub, and analyze my every move.

Last and most importantly: If I gave you a Hippopotamus, what would you do with it? :D

Name it Kevin. Get a saddle. Ride around the neighborhood. "Oh, you have a Lexus? I HAVE A HIPPO! Sucka!"

Tiny Footprints... [An open letter to Cookie]

2011-11-16T20:56:00.003-07:00

Your tiny footprints, treading water down the hall. Sweet cherubic cheeks splashed with spaghetti sauce. Watching as i clear the mess made by your squishing exploration. Fingers reaching up to add your tiny hand print to my arm. So many marks left, some on my heart as you took a piece to hold with you. Some on my face from the tears I shed for you, whether they be happy or sad or conflicted. Many marks left on my body from your growth, your life, your sweet baby kisses. Fluttering footsteps simply reaching out for a parent to follow. Mischevious laughter from another room brings curiosity and worry. Sweet smiles and joyful hugs I live for, and would gladly die for.

So simple, the art of parenthood. You must only give everything of yourself, to allow this tiny being to take control of your heart and your mind and your very life.

Today was hard. Impossibly hard, knowing I may never know what the truly right decision is for you. Starting on this path may be wrong, but sometimes life is not black and white. Please remember that, and know that not all decisions are easy to make. The only thing I know for sure is that no matter what may come of this you have a mother who loves you. You have a true father who loves you every bit as much as he would if you were his flesh and blood. Love is thicker than blood my darling, and I hope someday you will understand that as I do. Even as I fight for your interest with a person who has legal reason to call himself your "father" I see the strength and courage spread through our lives by the man who is our rock. I see your eyes light up as he leans to picks you up, and even on this harsh and incongruous day I see him warm at your beautiful smile. He sees the light within you as I do. He understands this ever present burning to protect and give and enjoy each second with you. I want for you to understand and know your history, but I also hope you will see the truth and know that no biological bond could ever take the place of a true parent.

Together we will laugh at your antics, clean up the messes, and live each day. We are your family, and we will always be there to pick up the pieces, but for now we will just smile and watch your tiny footprints evaporate.

Inspirational...

2011-11-14T09:00:00.000-07:00

I grew up in a mormon family. Large, loud, proud and loving. My siblings are spread between generations. Sometimes that makes it hard to communicate and understand one another. I didnt feel like I really got to know my oldest siblings as adults, because they moved away when I was young. As I've gotten older I have realized how important it is to foster these relationships. It's still hard, and we will always be in different stages of our lives, but we have become better friends as time passes.

This is my oldest sister, Jen. She has been a rock in my times of need. We have a special bond now because of adoption. I'm sure you've seen me mention my sister who struggled with infertility while myself and our other sister were pregnant. She has had alot of trials and dealt with them all amazingly well. She was the first to mention adoption to me when I was pregnant with Dawson, and she was the first person I thought of when I decided to place. We both thought and prayed alot about whether it would be a good idea to place my son in her home. In the end we didnt feel it was the right choice. I felt like I would have alot of negative feelings toward my sister, and I didnt want the added stress to our relationship.

In the end she did adopt, and her little boy Liam is a perfect addition to their family (full disclosure- I stole the below picture from her blog). She also has beautiful twins who were my first niece and nephew. They are an amazing example of how a great mom raises great kids, and I love the whole family. I know that what we all went through has changed us, and I have always felt like after placement she and I understood one another better. She is one of the best moms I know, so I talk to her when I want advice on how to handle tough parenting decisions. We both have come to eachother with questions about the "other side" of the adoption view. She's given me some great advice, and I even stayed with her for a month when I was 20 because of some hard times in my life. Not once during that time did I feel judged or looked down on. The time I spent with her was the reason I felt I could make it on my own and move away from home.

I'm sure we've both had times where we felt alienated from one another, but something always pulls us together again. I always seem to come back to her for her opinions and help. She was the first person I told when I found out I was pregnant with Cookie (I was at her house at the time). She was so understanding about it all. Even though our religious views and day-to-day lives are so different, I dont feel like she is trying to preach to me. She is straightforward but caring and sweet tempered. I cant imagine what my life would have been like if she wasnt part of it. I am so happy to have all of my amazing siblings, and I know sometimes she might feel left out because I dont get the chance to see her as often as some of my other siblings. I just wish I could express how important she has been in my life. Healing after placement is really tough, and knowing that she understood was so amazing. She has always been the person who inspires me to be better, and she will always be a wonderful example of motherhood.

Jen, I love you and appreciate you every day. I know how hard it's been for you to be understanding even when I made huge mistakes. I know that no matter what happens I will always have my sister to lean on. I love that you are willing to listen when I talk, and I wish I could see you and your beautiful family more often. I cant wait for you to meet your niece and I know she will love you and see how much you have inspired my life and my road to motherhood. Love you sister.

Wonders Never Cease

2011-11-13T08:59:00.005-07:00

So last night I called D. We had played phone tag a little this week, and when I got the chance after Cookie went to sleep I gave her a call. I always get a little bit of butterflies when I talk to her. It's not anxiety, more just excitement and happiness. We had what A called "a love fest" talking about how much we care about eachother and how amazing our experiences have been. I asked her permission to include some pictures of them on the blog. Her response was basically that she trusts me, and she doesnt mind at all (so here she is with Cookie- gorgeous right?). We talked about the blog, and how I am trying to build myself a group of other birthmoms with similar experiences. She said she thought it was good that I got that chance, and I told her about some of the things I've written recently. Seriously, every time we talk it's like she reaffirms my absolute love and respect for them. We talked about Dawson, how well he is doing in school and the things he loves to do. We talked about C, who is growing into a gorgeous young woman who is very mature and self-aware. We talked about D's new job and how much she is enjoying it, about all the birthdays that they get to celebrate in the winter. We talked about the first year after placement, and how hard it was for me to talk to them or send letters. She said she always knew I was just in too much pain to be able to say much to them. I told her how being around their family changed how I thought about my loss. She said she felt like her family grew by more than just one little baby boy that day. I told her how I always thought I would resent them, but I learned that I cant feel resentment for people I love so much.

We talked for almost an hour while she drove home, and when she got there she asked Dawson if he wanted to talk. "Nah" he said. Little stinker. The funny thing is that I didnt feel upset, I didnt feel hurt by him not wanting to talk. First of all he's a boy, and I understand how boys can be. Secondly, I felt so full already from just talking to D. She is the center of that house, and I know when I talk to her I am getting the whole story. She makes me feel like I am a part of their family instead of an outsider looking in on it. I feel like she is my long lost sister, and we are able to be honest and accept eachother for who we are. We talked about how Dawson talks about me, and sometimes wants to write me letters (yay!), and she said she never really felt the need to prepare for the conversations about adoption. She just seems to know what to say in the moment, and it always seems to be the right thing. I told her that Cookie practices saying his name and we point out pictures of them all the time and tell her who they all are. I want her to grow up knowing they are family, and loving them even though they are far away.

There was so much to say, and so much love to feel, and so much gratitude to express. We always say so many of these things when we talk, but it never feels like a repeated conversation. At least for me, I feel so full of emotion that I may burst if I dont express it to her. I wish there were better words to express how I feel for all of them, but I do my best with the limited means of communication I have.

This is from our april visit this year. From left to right: D, G, C, Dawson, Cookie, Me, Bubba

By the end of our conversation I had been on the verge of tears many times. After we hung up I let a few of those tears of joy fall. I am so grateful. So very lucky to be part of their lives. I know I would never change a single thing, because it all worked out the way it was supposed to. Each of them is a wonder to me, and D is my conduit to experience it all. So I dont care if it seems like a big "love fest" to everyone else, I'm being genuine and I cant say enough good things about my experience with this wonderful family.

Mom, Mother, Birthmom, Real Mom...

2011-11-11T12:14:00.002-07:00

Another post inspired by the Birthmom Buds Blog (I love those guys!). I was reading a post called Calling Someone Else Mom written by Coley (shout out!). She talked about how it took her off guard the first time her son said "Mommy" in front of her. This got me thinking alot about the words we use and how they effect others.

It immediately brought to mind one of my most precious memories:

I have had visits with Dawson, D, G and C about once a year since just after Dawson's third birthday. This was not something we planned, but we all found a cameraderie and realized we enjoyed eachother's company. Everything seemed to fit together each time. It was amazing, and I never felt what Coley describes when she heard her son call someone else "Mom". I always felt connected to D, like long lost sisters who share a special bond through this beautiful baby boy. She was precious to me as soon as we started getting to know one another. How could I feel resentment for such a sweet-spirited woman? The only thing I found hard was that I knew he didnt really understand who I was. We had another amazing visit in 2008 (Dawson was about 6 at the time) and once again I left elated and amazed at how wonderful they all were. That was a really hard year for them, and I am still so grateful they took the time to come and spend time with me and my family. Months went by, and in January of 2009 Dawson turned 7. I try to call around his birthday each year because it makes my time so much better. That year I talked to D for a while, I heard all about their day and how everything was going for them. She let me know that they talked about me, and she thought he might be understanding now. I was so happy, and then she asked if I would like to speak to him. I heard her in the background, telling him I was on the phone, asking if he remembered when we had our visit and if he remembered who I was.

*Gasp* "My mother?!"

My legs went weak and immediately there were tears in my eyes. I tried to choke them back as we talked about presents and his sister and all kinds of other things. He was so happy and excited, and my mind was reliving that moment over and over. After he gave the phone back to D and we said our goodbyes I revelled in that feeling for days. He knew me! He knew how we were related and he could understand what it meant!

I dont know if it hit me until this last year what that must have felt like for D. For her child to call someone else "Mother". I'm sure as my heart leapt hers plummeted. More than likely he just didnt know to use the term "Birthmom" or one that would put qualifiers in place to make it understood that I am not his "Mother". I have no doubt that Dawson knows who his Mom is, I certainly know who she is. I am not that woman, I did not feed him and love him and nurture him these past 8+ years. I hope she did not see that moment as an infringment on her role, because for me the excitement was more that he knew me, and less about the title (although I have to admit to feeling joy for that as well).

I will still cherish that moment as one of the best in my life, but I can look back on it now and see how hurt D must have felt.I know it can be confusing that I call Dawson "my son" in alot of cases. I've made it very clear that he will always count as one of my children to me. What matters is not how I see him, but how he sees me. I will never be his Mom, and I am ok with that. I FEEL like his Mom, because he holds a place in my heart, but he doesnt need to FEEL like my son. He doesnt need to call Cookie his "sister" even if she calls him a brother. He has a sister who loves him and is there with him being raised by their parents.

I never want to take away from D's role in his life, because she is his Mom, she COUNTS. Maybe I am overthinking this a bit, I just need to make it clear that I dont expect them to view me as I view them. That would be unfair. I can hope that they will trust that I care for them all deeply, and even though I will always count Dawson as my son I will also always refer to them as "his parents". I dont think of them as "adoptive" parents, I think of them as what they really are, his actual parents. Real, true, amazing parents.

I want D to know that I will forever be grateful for her friendship and caring. I will always think of her as a part of my family (along with G and C). I will never think of Dawson as separate from them, because they are a package deal, and I know that. I feel so strongly that we were meant to be in eachother's lives, and I can only hope that they feel a fraction of the amount of love for me that I feel for them. I'm sure it's hard sometimes, on that side of the triad. I will never feel like our visits and conversations are a requirement, and I will always be thankful to them all for including me in their lives when they dont have to. I love each of them more than I can say, and I want the world to know that I know how lucky I am to be part of this family.

Counting Children...

2011-11-10T11:15:00.000-07:00

I love when I read another person's blog and get inspired to write about my feelings. So when I read This Post over at the Birthmom Buds Blog I was inspired to get to writing. Problem is, I sat down to get writing several times and nothing came to me. I found myself struggling to express how this makes me feel.

"How many kids do you have?"
"How old are your kids?"
"How does your son like being a big brother?"

Some of the toughest questions I have to answer are about my relationship to my son. I get alot of compliments on the framed photo on my desk at work. It's a very beautiful picture from our visit in April. Dawson and I are huddled close to each other on a bench and Cookie is partly on my lap and partly on his (picture is below and blurred for the privacy of the family). We are all smiling and leaning into one another. It is one of my favorite pictures, along with one where he is holding Cookie and they are looking at each other and laughing (which is on display as my desktop background at work). These pictures mean the world to me, they are the most precious moments of my life. Knowing that Dawson has the chance to get to know Cookie and seeing how natural he is with her was so far beyond my expectations of what could happen for us. I am always in awe of Dawson's parents for having the strength and caring to give me a chance to be in all of their lives, and for them to accept Cookie into that mix as well was incredible.

Here's the problem. I don't often tell people who don't know me well that I am a birthmom. It's not something I am ashamed of, but I have mentioned before that this is a close and personal subject for me. So usually only those I know fairly well will get the full skinny on my life as a Birthmom. Since putting up these photos more people have asked the hard questions. Some questions I can just nod or say yes to and people are ok with it. They go on about their day never knowing that they didn't get the full story. Others probe deeper, asking alot of questions that I cant answer without disclosing the details. Here's how one such conversation looked recently:

Co-worker (CW): "Those are some beautiful kids you have!" *points to picture* "How old are they?"
Red: "Almost 9 and 19 months"
CW: "Wow, that's quite a gap between them!"
Red: "Yep" *smiling uncomfortably*
CW: "How do they like each other?"
Red: "They get along very well"
CW: "I bet he is a big help with his little sister"

I'm not trying to lie to people here, it's not that I don't want to talk about it, it's just that I don't want to talk about it with EVERYONE. I also don't want to lie or be deliberately dishonest, so at this point I usually say something about my son living in Oregon. Sometimes they walk away and assume that my son lives with his father or some other such arrangement, other times they probe more and I have to tell them a brief synopsis like "He lives with his parents and his sister". I don't like saying things like "I placed him for adoption", for some reason I feel like that makes it all about me. I would rather make it clear that while I do have contact, he was not "taken" from me or anything like that. Either way I always feel like most people walk away from the conversation feeling sorry for me. I hate that.

It's a sticky situation, and sometimes when people do get to know me better and hear the whole story they think I was lying. I don't lie about my situation to anyone, but I do sometimes just nod and smile and let people think what they want to. I just cant get into the adoption conversation with every stray person who walks by my desk. It would be an exhausting waste of my time. I would never be able to convey to them how joyous the whole thing can be, or how even though it causes me sadness I still feel so much more good from it than bad. So I scoot around the subject as much as I can, and I usually only begrudgingly bring up the adoption if someone gets nosy. The people who know me well at work know my story, and that is quite enough for me.

I honestly don't know what the better course of action is. I just don't feel that I can comfortably talk about the adoption in everyday conversation. The only thing I know for sure is that both of my kids COUNT to me. When people ask me how many kids I have I always say 2. Yes, I am not parenting Dawson, but he is a part of me forever and always. That much will never change. I have tried to explain to people before, he will ALWAYS count as my baby boy, forever, but I will never be his Mom. Every time I think of the question of counting kids, it makes me think of my own Mom. Her first baby boy (Mark) died when he was about 4 months old from SIDS. I've never heard my mom say she was only a mother of 6, because it doesn't matter that Mark is not here anymore, he is still her child. I still count him as my sibling, saying I have 6 siblings, not 5. Some people may not understand that, since I never even met Mark, but he was definitely present in our house.

I want my parented kids to COUNT Dawson, and I will always COUNT him.

Most of what I want to get across is that I am not someone to feel sorry for. I see my son, I talk to him, he tells me he loves me. I get the privilege to be in his life, and I am humbled and grateful for that privilege. If you know me at all you know that my children are my greatest joy, both of them make my life brighter and more livable each day. Seeing them together was touching and moving beyond words. I am proud to be related to 2 of the most amazing little people on the planet. Even more proud to know that I did what was best for them both, no matter how hard it was.

Why I Didnt Read My "Birthparent Letter"

2011-11-07T15:31:00.002-07:00

So here is a dirty little secret that very few people know about me: I didnt even read the "Birthparent letter" from D and G until Dawson was over a year old.

I know, *gasp* how could I not read it?

I just didnt. That's it (kind of anticlimactic right?).

Go and read my adoption story, there is not a mention of that letter in there anywhere. Dont get me wrong, when we started I read through each letter with a fine-toothed comb. I analyzed each sentence for level of intelligence, empathy, love and expressiveness. Those first 10 packets were almost memorized, I could have told you stats, positives and negatives on each of those couples. None of them really felt right, and I even remember having a conversation with my SW about how I just didnt feel anything for these people. She said to find one that I felt "the least negatives" for. I did, and we scheduled a meeting, and it didnt work. We got word the day before that they had moved. I couldnt wait months for them, and it just never felt good to me. So more packets were given to me, something like 25 in the second pack. Still nothing. I began to lose hope that I would find the right people. The last group of packets came and there were only about 8 in that group. My SW said if I didnt find what I was looking for we would start looking at families with more than one child, or families that lived farther away.

By that time I was so tired. I was 7.5 months pregnant and scared and exhausted. I didnt want to read any more letters, or skim over any more touching words that did not penetrate my heart. So with this last packet I didnt read anything but stats, and then I looked at pictures.

I cant tell you what was in that letter. I'm sure they agonized over it and wrote with care and concern. I dont know if they would be offended to know how little that effort really mattered in the end. I cant even remember the gist of it now, and I have it saved in a baby book that I look through often. What I can tell you is that D's smile was vibrant, and G's love shown brightly. I can tell you that C looked so happy to be spending time with her parents, and every fun location made me wish I could jump into the setting of those pictures. It felt familiar, and it felt like I could not help but come back to those pictures.

I didnt read the letter, maybe partially because I was so wrapped up in my own pain that I couldnt experience those emotions with them. Mostly I think I just didnt need to. They were my family, in a way I could not (and still cant) explain. I didnt need any more confirmation than that.

When I finally did read the letter, I remember feeling like it was unneccesary. It was shortly after our first visit, which means he was over a year old. I knew by then that my choice was right and good. I knew that he was with his family and that they were everything I could have asked for. There is no way a letter could have changed that for me.

Adoption Art of the Week

2011-11-07T14:19:00.006-07:00

This week's post will be a fast one. I actually bought this book when I saw it because I was so touched by it...

It is a really touching book, and I am thinking of sending it to D, G, C, and Dawson for Christmas. It's a little young for both of the kids, but the message is timeless. The illustrations are amazing and the words are so touching...

It starts off with this line...

. . . I wanted you more than you’ll ever know,
. so I sent love to follow wherever you go. . . .

I'm sure you can imagine the rest. It's a beautiful and well written piece, I have read it to Cookie a few times already. I have a hard time getting through it without tearing up.

I think the best part about this is that it touches the emotions from all sides of the adoption triad. I really hope you will all go out and read it.

Five Minute Friday: Remember

2011-11-04T14:33:00.003-07:00

It's time for another edition of Five Minute Friday! Every friday there is a prompt, and in the words of The Gypsy Mama herself:

"For only five short, bold, beautiful minutes. Unscripted and unedited. We just write without worrying if it’s just right or not."

This week's prompt is: Remember

Go

Remember the days when court dates didnt loom over your head? When diapers were less a piece of your lifestyle? When sweet baby faces didnt greet you with tiny dimpled cheeks that make you want to melt? Remember the days of nights on the town and no need for babysitters?

Of course you do, it wasnt all that long ago. Memory is such a precious gift. I wish mine was better. I wish I could remember what I had for breakfast 3 days ago, but alas that is not to be. I am the forgetful lady with reminders galore. I am the mom who would forget her own birthday if Facebook didnt remind me.

I wish I was less stressed, I wish I could write down each new word my baby girl says. She is less and less a baby with each passing moment and I feel so helpless, sitting here at my desk at work, waiting for the clock to show 5:30 so I can clear out and go find that piece of myself that hides in her tiny arms. I want to remember, I want to make memories, I want so much more. But I sit here stressing about the upcoming fight with her bio-dad instead of being able to cherish those amazing moments.

I love my sweet baby face, and I cant wait for the whole process to be over so I can stop feeling sick to my stomach about it...

Stop

50 Random Facts About Red...

2011-11-03T19:37:00.003-07:00

1. I like the word "Ukulele", it just rolls off the tongue

2. I have a habit of thinking up and searching names for future kids, not because I plan on having one anytime soon but just because I feel the need to.

3. When I was a teenager I got along well with my Mom and didn't like my Dad. As I've grown up my relationship with my Dad has become easier, whereas I feel I have to work harder with my Mom.

4. I wish I could stay home with my daughter every day.

5. I also wish I had the gumption to be a stay-at-home Mom, cause it is hard work.

6. I am the 6th of 7 children (my oldest brother died at 4 months old).

7. 3 out of those 7 kids are redheads.

8. Any strong emotion makes me cry, doesn't matter what emotion it is, (anger, happiness, excitement) all emotions are hard-wired to my tear-ducts.

9. I love to use parentheses (have you noticed?).

10. When I was in middle school I used to sign all my notes with "Love, Peace, and bulletproof marshmallows". Pretty sure I stole it from someone at some point, but I still enjoy it :D

11. I would rather listen to Broadway show tunes than any other music.

12. Did you know that strawberries are in the Rose family? I repeated this fact to everyone I knew when I found out in High School.

13. I love Huckleberry Jam (go out and get some NOW)

14. I prefer even numbers but all good things seem to come to me on odd dates (both my kids have odd birthdays)

15. I live with the coolest dog on the planet (Heidi- she is awesome and irreplaceable) but most of the time I prefer cats (I used to own Munchkin cats-- look them up they are ADORABLE)

16. I cant own a cat now because A is allergic (sad day!).

17. When I am sad I watch Cinderella. Any version, doesn't matter, the story itself is what I need.

18. If Hollywood made a movie version of my life, I would want Emma Stone to play me.

19. I am arachnophobic.

20. I love nutella on toast.

21. I pick at my fingers and hands, it annoys the crap out of A.

22. My favorite author is Dean Koontz, I think about 80% of my book collection is written by him.

23. I love to sing, I was in choir in High School and it was some of the best times I've had.

24. I want to start taking voice lessons again soon.

25. Someday I want to own a baby grand piano like the one my Gram has had forever (seriously that thing has survived going back and forth from Africa and from coast to coast and it still plays the most amazing music I've heard).

26. When I was young I was in alot of community theatre and musicals.

27. I have been in 3 different versions of "The Wizard of Oz" in my life.

28. "Somewhere Over The Rainbow" is still one of my favorite songs.

29. I was in a musical in 8th grade (Showboat) with the guy who did the original "Day-o, one day sale" commercial for The Bon Marche.

30. When I laugh really hard I snort and squeak.

31. I moved to Phoenix on a spur-of-the-moment decision. I decided to move and 3 weeks later I was here, 2000 miles away from my home town. It was one of the best decisions I have ever made.

32. I met my boyfriend on an online dating site :D

33. I love good Chinese food, but there is NO good Chinese food in AZ.

34. When I travel back home I usually come back 10 pounds heavier between my Mom's cooking and all the food I go out to get while I am there.

35. I also really miss all the good coffee in Washington, AZ is a primarily Starbucks kind of place.

36. I have a serious crush on Johnny Depp.

37. In middle school I wore a necklace that said "NSYNC". LOL

38. I tend to plan out conversations in my head (but they never go the way I plan).

39. I also tend to think through every possible scenario in my head. This can be very nerve-racking.

40. I hate seafood, as in, ALL sea food. Texture, smell, look, it's just gross.

41. I could not live in a world without cheesecake (YUM!)

42. < this is my favorite number.

43. I think my daughter has the most beautiful eyes ever! They are brown on the inside and blue on the outside, very unique.

44. I think all facts about my kids count as facts about me :D

45. I once had a crush on a gay guy (in my defense I did not know his orientation when we met).

46. I have one of the worst memories, I don't remember things so I have to have reminders and alarms set for everything.

47. Sometimes I wish I lived closer to my parents.

48. Then I have a conversation with them and I realize its probably good I only see them once a year or so :D

49. I'm a little dense. As in, my good friend and I from high school used to get confused by jokes, and then we would burst out laughing 20 min later when we figured out the punchline (at the same time). Said friend is a blonde :)

50. I hate feet (ewww!).

Thanks for hanging in there for this :D

Love, Peace and Bulletproof Marshmallows!

Red

Adoption Art of The Week...

2011-10-30T11:38:00.003-07:00

This week I want to focus in on depression. It is a huge part of what a birthmother goes through after placement. For me it felt like if I stopped being depressed it would somehow be like I stopped loving my son. It took me a long time to get past that feeling, and even longer to allow the hard days to be just that, hard days. Every day doesnt need to be a mope-fest and every day does not need to feel like trudging through deep mud. I can love my son and not be sad about placement every day. In fact I feel like I am doing better by him when I allow myself to be happy. I feel like if he grows up believing that this is something I am sad about he may think I somehow feel it was a bad thing. I dont. It is sad for me sometimes, and that is ok, but it isnt a bad part of my life. I am who I am today because of placement. So here is a sad song that I hold dear:

Just Me (Hidden Track): Blue October

I lost a piece of me in you
I think I left it in your arms
I forget the reasons I got scared
But remember that I cared quite a lot

You see but lately I’ve been on my own
Yeah one, but one by choice
You see that’s a first for me
There's only me, yeah there’s only me
And now I realize for once, it’s just me

It’s just me
It’s just me and I’ll find a way to make it
There’s no one left to stop me,
Here I go, can we take it from the top

So wide, so long, so sad I want to be strong
Don’t try to take this from me
I’ve already spent living half my life undone
So wide, so long, so sad I want to be strong
Don’t try to take this from me
I’ve already spent my life living half undone

I’ve been talking to my aunts and uncles, Mom and Dad again
I’ve been finding out that I have what this world has called friends
I’ve tried to push them all away
They pushed me back and want to stay
And that’s one good thing I have

I’m gonna feel a peace in me
I’m gonna feel at home
I’m gonna make this cloud above me disappear, be gone
I want to feel a punch inside
My heartbeat on the floor
I don’t want to hurt no more

Yeah it’s just me
It’s just me and I’ll find a way to make it
There’s no one left to stop me,
Here I go, Can we take it from the top

So wide, so long, so sad I want to be strong
Don’t try to take her from me
I’ve already spent my life living half undone
So wide, so long, so sad I want to be strong
Don’t try to take her from me
I’ve already spent my life living half undone

It's me, the one who won before
I used to smile but don’t no more
I'm living just to watch it all go by...

Five Minute Friday: Is Adoption Relevant?

2011-10-28T11:25:00.003-07:00

I've been intrigued by these in the past thanks to my new friend Monika, who has a very open writing style. She got me hooked on The Gypsy Mama, whose writing I also very much enjoy. Every friday there is a prompt, and in the words of The Gypsy Mama herself:

"For only five short, bold, beautiful minutes. Unscripted and unedited. We just write without worrying if it’s just right or not."

This week's prompt is: Relevant

-------------

Go...

Are my experiences relevant to normal life? No. Is adoption a relevant subject to the everyday observer? Probably not.

Some days it really feels the only people who find my story relevant are those who dont really need to hear it. The people who are already educated and already know the adoption world. How can I educate people when they have no interest to know more? So I decided I dont need to be relevant to the world. I only need to be relevant to my life. My goals, my dreams and my plans for the future are all that matter. When I write here it is purely for my own edification, to search out new places in my soul that I have left undiscovered for so long. To allow me a place to relive the pain and the joy, to give in to my need to write and use these words that are bumbling around in my brain. These memories that seem to just flow from me are sometimes so unfamiliar, things I have tucked away because of how painful or how tender they are.

What is relevant about me? Nothing and everything. I am the pain you see in the world, and I am the joy in your childs eyes. I am the love I have for my children and I am the deep, abiding happiness that comes with knowing I did right by them. They are my world, and for nothing else would I give so much of myself.

STOP.

A Twist in My Story...

2011-10-25T07:42:00.019-07:00

I have an older sister who is a roudy and rambunctious ball of energy. Possibly one of the most fun people on the planet, she can turn any errand into an adventure. She is the closest to me in age out of all of my siblings, so we have been stuck together like glue since I was born. When we were young this was a chore for her, but as we got older we became friends. She is one of the only people I feel like I can say ANYTHING to. She tells it like it is, no sugar coating, and I love that she can cut any issue right down to the bone in a quick second. She and I were also pregnant together with our sons. She was due a few weeks after me, but she ended up being early and I ended up being late and so Bubba (her son) was born 6 days before Dawson. The discrepancy in their size was huge, so we called them Timone and Pumba (that's Dawson's foot on the left compared to Bubba's on the right). One of my biggest fears in placement was that the boys would not get to know each other. I always wanted them to be close, best friends, like my sister and I have been.

Many people wondered how I would deal with having Bubba around. I will admit, even I was scared of how he would make me feel. Since I had a C-section I had to have someone in the house to help me for the first week or two. Since both my parents worked and there was no one else, my sister had to be the one to stay with me. I didn't have a chance to avoid being near Bubba. I thought it would be so hard. My heart was still aching so badly from the blow of placement. I thought for sure that this little baby being in the house would kill me. How could I see him, hold him, be near him, watch my sister with him without my heart breaking all over again? The first morning they arrived I tried to just ignore them, I hoped my sister would keep him quiet and away from me. No such luck. He cried and moved and caught my attention. My sister was obviously exhausted from nights awake with him, so somehow at one point I ended up with a little lump in my arms. He fell asleep, and shortly after that my sister fell asleep too. I lay down on the couch with him still wrapped in my arms and I just watched him for a while. This was so different than I imagined. Shouldn't this hurt? Shouldn't I be wracked with sobs from just seeing him, let alone holding him close? How was it possible I could still get attached to this bundle of chub?

I don't know how it happened, and I certainly don't know why, but somehow that baby boy did not hurt me by being there. Somehow he did the opposite, he held my wounded heart together while it scabbed over. He stemmed the bleeding of my tortured soul. I still cant express how important my nephew was in my grieving. He wasn't so much a reminder of what I was missing as he was a way for me to connect with Dawson and know what stages he was in. I babysat him as often as I could, often having him sleep in bed with me at night. Cuddling his soft, warm, baby body against me and loving every minute. He was a gentle nudge of happiness during an otherwise despondent first year. Maybe I am just imagining it but I always felt like I had a special kind of bond with him. He will always be one of my favorite people.

As time passed and I moved beyond the grief, Bubba has remained an important piece of my life. Every time I have a visit with Dawson and his family I make sure that Bubba can go too. The boys amaze me with how they seem to just pick up their friendship like it is so familiar. They don't see each other for months or years and yet they play together like no time has passed. I'm so grateful that they still get to be the friends I always imagined they would be.

Adoption Art of the Week...

2011-10-24T11:46:00.004-07:00

I've been listening to a ton of show tunes lately. This one has become a fast favorite, and certainly helps to express my feelings directly after placement.

"Without You" from Rent

Without You
The Ground Thaws
The Rain Falls
The Grass Grows

Without you
The seeds root
The flowers bloom
The children play

The stars gleam
The poet's dream
The eagles fly
Without you

The earth turns
The sun burns
But I die
Without you...

Without you
The breeze warms
The girls smiles
The cloud moves

Without you
The tides change
The boys run
The Oceans crash

The crowds roar
The days soar
The babies cry
Without you...

The Moon glows
The river flows
But I die
Without you

The world revives
Colors renew
But I know blue
Only blue
Lonely blue
Within me, blue
Without you

Without you
The hand gropes
The ear hears
The pulse beats

Without You
The Eyes Gaze
The Legs Walk
The Lungs Breathe

The Mind Churns
The Heart Yearns
The Tears Dry
Without You

Life Goes On
But I'm Gone
Cause I Die

Without You
Without You
Without You
Without You...

Fear

2011-10-20T07:46:00.001-07:00

Time for another Open Adoption Roundtable!

This round's prompt?:Write about open adoption and being scared.

As a Birthmom, I think fear is a base for almost every emotion in the process. Fear was a catalyst for me to want to consider adoption, it was a prominenet piece of my emotions for a long time during and afterward as well. So I think I will break this up into lists of fears during those 3 times (before, during, after). Here goes:

Before: I had a fear of my child ending up in a bad place because of the limited resources I had. My greatest fear was that he would take on some of the traits his birth dad was demonstrating during my pregnancy. I wanted him to have a father who would teach him to respect women and understand their value, not use them and throw them aside depending on how he felt that day. I also knew that I was unprepared to deal with any of the pressure of being a mom. I was still dealing with adolescent worries and had no idea how to be mature about any of those parenting decisions. I also had a fear of adoption, because I mistakenly believed that it would mean I would never get the chance to know my child.

During: Once I was able to accept the fears I had and move past my pride, my fear was that I would choose wrong. I would somehow choose a family that my son would forever feel disconnected from. Or worse, a family that would lie to him or keep me from him. I was also afraid of how placement would effect me, in a way I was already grieving, and if it was that bad while he was still with me then I knew the aftermath would be unthinkable. I was also afraid of how others would judge me (typical teenage fears I suppose).

After: For a while I lived in constant fear that I would be disconnected from Dawson and his family. I feared his parents and their power over my emotions (if they took away contact I just knew I would have a break down). I felt powerless and like a pawn sometimes, not because they ever treated me like one, but mostly because I created dramatic scenarios in my head (which would never have come true). If I am being honest, I also feared my own reactions to them and to Dawson. I did not write to them very often (even though they wrote every month of that first year just as promised). I was too overwhelmed, and I was so scared of even thinking about it, I hid behind my shell of grief and sadness. J and I had a visit with them just after Dawson turned 1, and for me it was like the sun had come out for the first time that year. I thought it would be so hard to see him with them, see him bonded with another woman and family. It wasnt hard at all, it was so easy and so beautiful.

Now I have far less fear. Most of the fears I have now are to do with Dawson and his family thinking badly of me. I know they care about me and I love them all dearly, so I dont feel like I need to fear that they will dissapear from my life. We respect eachother and know our boundaries. It's a beautiful feeling to have that peaceful relationship with them. I still have moments of fear of the future. I am a little scared that one day I will have to answer hard questions from Dawson. I am scared of how he and my daughter will see eachother, and that they will have misconceptions about my choices for each of them. I also know that I will be there to talk to Cookie about it, and Dawson will have D and G to talk to. None of us are going to be going into these situations blind. Just knowing that makes all of this alot less scary.

Pressure of Parenting After Placement

2011-10-17T12:04:00.007-07:00

Sometimes I feel such a back-breaking pressure. Pressure to be the best possible mother that has ever lived. I'm sure most moms feel pressure to be more patient, more loving and kind and more humbled than they are. For me, because of Dawson, I feel like I am somehow failing him (and Cookie) if I am not the most wonderful person and mother.

Ok, so here it is: I'm not perfect.

Far from it actually. I get beyond frustrated when Cookie does something I have told her not to (I mean is it really neccessary to throw the dog's food into her water every night?). Some times I wish I could throw in the towel (no, I cannot hold you every second while still stirring dinner and trying to get you juice at the same time). I feel guilty for being away, even though I know that working is what I need to be doing right now. I find myself feeling lazy for not going on lots of outings on my days off (Who needs the zoo? You've got Mommy's bed head to gawk at). I dont have the time or energy to make her home-cooked meals every night (hello microwave!). I probably feed her more junk food than what I should (another cookie? Sure, as long as mommy can finish folding this laundry). I get angry and yell sometimes, I used to have such a long fuse but she seems to know just how to shorten it.

Most days I come out of it all feeling like I have won the battle but am losing the war. How do people make this look so easy? What am I doing wrong here?

Honestly, the worst part for me is my own self-flagellation. I find myself thinking awful things like "what if I was just not made to be a mom?" and it hurts. I can write all of the posts in the world about how other people hurt me, but in the end the person who berates me most is myself. My heart aches for this little girl with huge eyes all day long, and then when I finally come home to her I find myself so tired and run-down that I cant enjoy being with her. I count down the minutes until she goes to bed and I can sit still for a few moments. I worry that by being a "bad" mom I will somehow dissapoint Dawson. I know he wont know right now what kind of mom I am. I guess I just feel like my choice to parent Cookie needs to be validated by me being the best mom. It seems silly now that I think about it. I guess lately I have just felt so burnt out. It feels like a huge effort just to get out of bed in the morning. Getting through the day is like trudging through quicksand. I'm stressed because of thinking of court with R coming up, and wondering what the outcome will be. I'm tired of working at a job I can no longer feel any joy in. I'm frustrated that I cant spend more of my time doing the things I love, like watching my Cookie-bug grow and learn. It's all coming to a head, and I am truly scared of what will happen if I dont get a break from some of this pressure soon.

When I was pregnant with Cookie, my mind was filled with all the wonderful things we would do together. All the things I would be a part of that I never had the chance to experience with Dawson. I'm learning through time that my best laid plans are bound to go awry. In some ways I am ok with it, and in others I wonder if I can keep my sanity through it all. Dont get me wrong, there are plenty of moments that make my efforts worth it (like her clinging tightly to me after waking in the middle of the night, knowing that having me close is a comfort to her as it is for me), and I love my Cookie for always. She is just getting to that age where she cant decide if she wants to do it herself, or have me by her side for everything. It's very frustrating (for both of us).

I know that many mother's have gone through similar struggles, and I know that this too shall pass. I know that there will be times when Cookie is more frustrating and times when she is a perfect angel. I know that I have some unhealthy feelings about myself to work through. I'm hoping that being able to write about it will be a healing process.

Adoption Art of the Week

2011-10-13T12:26:00.002-07:00

I got a little distracted and forgot to post one of these last week. So to make up for missing one, I am going to post the ultimate adoption song. I literally cannot read, hear or think of this song without crying (I'm tearing up as I write). It is a very perfect representation of what I wish I had the words to say to D. I made this image a long time ago in paint so hopefully you will be able to see it ok...

From God's Arms to My Arms to Yours

I love this song, I remember hearing it for the first time while I was pregnant with Dawson. I was watching a video about adoption and it was playing in the background. I cried so hard that day. I had already chosen to place, but hearing this just made my heart swell. Enjoy!

Not The Same

2011-10-12T12:45:00.011-07:00

You remember that game, "One of these things is not like the others"? I was looking through pictures from just after Dawson was born today. I felt like I was playing that game as I looked back and forth between the pictures of meeting him, and the ones I had from meeting Cookie. It struck me that there was a huge difference in the emotions and feel of those pictures compared to the one's from Cookie's birth.

Here is the first time I held Dawson (you should recognize this one from the left of the page):

Here is the first time I held Cookie:

As I looked through the other photos I realized there is a distinct pattern:

Idont have a huge frame of reference because I dont have all of the pictures online. I dont know if it is really as obvious as it seems to me, because I have emotions tied to all of these pictures that I am sure cloud my view of them. I do remember my dad taking TONS of pictures while I was in the hospital with Dawson, and I still have alot of them in a photo book my mom made for me. They are all precious and bittersweet memories of those 3 days I had with my precious boy. For some reason today I have been thinking about it alot (probably from reading my previous post). Comparing my days with him and my first days with Cookie. First off, I was in alot more pain after Dawson was born. I had a C-section with him and was on alot of pain meds (one of the reasons I think I was sleeping so much). I couldnt hold the baby on my own, so had to prop him up on pillows to hold him. He was a giant 10 pound and 11.5 ounce baby at birth. I saw him for a brief second after he was born before I passed out. Then I didnt get to see or hold him again for almost 2 hours (at my own misguided request). With Cookie, I had a VBAC (look it up if you dont know) and she was handed to me right away (still a hefty 9.5 lbs, but nothing I couldnt handle). My best friend snapped those awesome pictures as I held her and counted her fingers. While seeing Dawson for the first time was so poignant and bittersweet, seeing Cookie for the first time was like breathing clean air for the first time. It was magical and wonderful and miraculous. My heart was full in all of these moments, but while I held Dawson I was full of not only love but also sadness, fear and many other conflicting emotions. Honestly, the entire experience with Cookie was less stressful and much less difficult. I was in the hospital alone with her, had lots of bonding time, learned to breastfeed and got to have her all to myself. With Dawson that was not even a choice, there was always someone with me, partially because they were trying to be there for me and partially because they wanted to be part of those memories too. I couldnt bond as well because he was so big and I was so pained. Maybe that was a blessing in disguise. I'm not really sure. All I know is that with Cookie I was riding an amazing high, I didnt feel pain, I didnt feel bad at all. I felt so very happy.

It makes me a little sad that the first time I experienced bringing life into this world I couldnt really enjoy it. I am grateful for my time with him, and I cherish it, but it will also always be tainted by the sadness and grief. I am so glad that with Cookie I was able to experience the pure joy of it all, without the cloud of depression to go along with it. Dont get me wrong, both of my experiences in the hospital are dear to me, and I wouldnt trade them for anything. Plus I got some beautiful babies out of it...

Reliving the Hospital

2011-10-10T12:00:00.000-07:00

I am a little wary to post this. It was actually an exercise that I worked on at the suggestion of my counselor a long time ago. I was trying to write my hospital experience from my own point of view. Basically I was purging my hold on the experiences I had there. It is still hard for me to read and relive. It's been a long time, almost 9 years, and I still feel like this is so vivid. While I say that, I want to say that some of what is "said" in this may not be accurate, even though I remember the sights and smells I dont remember the words as well. For the most part I was in a drug and emotion induced fog.

---------------------------------------

There he is… my beautiful big baby boy. I see him, I wish I could reach out and hold him… but my arms are strapped down.

“He’s so… pretty…”

Was that me? Did I say that? Why is it going black?… wait… baby…

………………

Where am I? Oh, hospital… clean white ceiling… who is talking? Oh, Janice… thank goodness for Janice, my friend, my midwife… Oh no! I’m going to…

“It’s ok, I have a bowl here, just aim for the bowl Carolyn… that’s right, I know it’s hard, you just hang in there. They are almost done stitching you up. That was a big boy you had, ten pounds eleven and a half ounces. You were amazing honey, you just hang in there until I can get you into recovery ok?”

Just nod… don’t think about the baby… mind blank… stomach empty… don’t think… don’t think about what you just did, not about the surgery, not about the baby… stop thinking… I love him so much… cant feel my legs… cant feel my baby… my Dawson

Unstrapped now… moving down a hallway, nurse asking me something… what did she say?

“Can I change your gown?”

Gown?... Oh, yea, I threw up on it… how did I throw up on it? I haven’t eaten in so long… Just help her get you changed, and then you can rest… rest and forget… forget about him… Please, God just let me forget… Please…

…………………………

1 hour later

“Would you like us to bring the baby in?”

Baby… my baby… little man, I love him so much… hurt so much… I don’t know… want to hold him… want to… no, just tell them no

“Ok honey, you don’t have to see him if you don’t want to”

Just nod, go back to sleep… forget… please forget…

“Ok, we are going to move you into your regular room now Carolyn. You just let us know if you get uncomfortable.”

Moving again… more hallways… doorway… stomach pain… not so bad, not compared to the other… trying not to think about the pain. Just forget, just don’t think about it. Give it some time and you will just forget. Why doesn’t it get any better?

Who is that? Dad? Daddy, I hurt so bad… Don’t ask that dad, no I don’t want to see him… no, I can’t, cant do this… cant feel this… cant see him... hate crying…hate this.

“You need to see that baby now”

So they bring him, tiny bassinet, not so tiny baby. Cant hold him up, but he lays on me. Sleeping little man… Love him…

Numbness: body numb from drugs, mind numb from exhaustion, heart numb from pain. So numb I forget, forget for a little while that he isn’t mine… for now he is… my little man…

Hold him… Snuggle, cuddle, love him

Cant laugh, but wont cry, not now, not yet… but soon…

3 days, he is mine for just this 72 hours.

I remember every moment of those three days. The feedings, sleeping close and holding that little angel, looking over every inch of him. Nurses and friends drifted in and out, many of them I cant really recall. For me there was tunnel vision. There was just that tiny being who had so recently been part of me, and who would too soon be gone to bless someone else with his presence. The background has faded, but the memory is still as clear as crystal. Tiny fingers, toes, arms, legs, belly, face. This was my time to revel in the amazing creation that was passing from my hands. Then came the last day…

Holding, crying, loving, sobbing. Eyes drinking in the sight, tiny flat nose, wide eyes, hands curled into fists, toes spread. Hands smoothing, holding, wiping tears. Lips kissing, arms hugging, chest heaving, legs wobbling. Heart breaking…

Wheeling the cart down the hallway. Tiny bassinet, not so tiny baby. Will this be my last moments with you? Will you ever know me? Will I hear your voice or see your face? Will she sing to you when you go to sleep? Will she love you like I do? Will they care that this is breaking me? So much pain, can I really do this?

Tiny room, chairs, talking, smiles, tears, envy… I hold you, kiss you, place you in new arms…

The world goes dark…

---------------------------------------------

I still regret that I didnt ask to see Dawson right away after I woke up and was moved to recovery. Before anyone asks, I want to say that YES he was that big (the weight is accurate). My time in the hospital is not something I talk about often. It still feels raw, and I still feel like it should be a personal time between me and my family (so please be nice). I am so grateful that my dad understood me well enough to know I needed to see Dawson. I am so happy I had those 3 days.

"Replacement" [A Rant]

2011-10-09T12:48:00.005-07:00

I've been holding this one back for a while, partially because the person who I had this conversation with will most likely read this. I wasn't sure if I really wanted for them to know how much this bothered me. I know the conversation may have been a joking one, but it stuck under my skin and I needed to get this off my chest.
-----------------------------

Recently while talking with an acquaintance about Dawson and Cookie I mentioned that Dawson was placed for adoption. I also mentioned that they met for the first time this year (they had seen a picture of the two of them together that I had up in a couple of places). This person made a passing comment about how he thought Dawson would be disappointed he didn't get a "little brother". I brushed this off, some people don't understand the dynamic with us, as far as he is concerned Cookie is just another friend, not a sister like C is. Some day he will put the pieces together and figure out how Cookie and he are connected (maybe he already has, I am not sure) but it's not really appropriate for him to call her a "sister" at this point. Anyway, in the course of the conversation this person said many infuriating things (some of which I have already addressed in this post)but the one that stuck with me was in response to me saying that I still miss Dawson sometimes. Their reply was "maybe next time you'll have a boy, I bet that will help you feel less sad about your son"...

I was a bit in shock, so I didn't say all the things coursing through my brain. Like "So in your eyes my next boy is just a placeholder for the child I didn't raise?". Why do people think that because I have Cookie now I should feel less attached to Dawson? Why would someone think simply because Cookie is a girl that I don't love her as much as I loved Dawson? Do they think that if I was to have another boy it would somehow replace him in my heart? Seriously? What in the hell is wrong with people?

Let me make this absolutely clear once again:

No. Child. Will. EVER. Replace. Dawson. EVER!

Is that clear enough for everyone? Cookie is an amazing addition to my life, she makes every sacrifice worth it. Not because she is more or better or because she fills that hole that Dawson left (it's still there). Because she is mine, I get to hold her and love her every day, hug and kiss her good night and miss her while I work at my tedious job. She makes it worth it to drive home every night, and worth it to deal with her tantrums and whining. Just because I enjoy being her mom does not discount my feelings for my son. I love him, every minute and every day. I will always love him JUST AS MUCH as I love Cookie. Every sacrifice I made, every sad and lonely day I spent was worth it to have him on this earth. I will think of him and miss him, I will wonder about him and be proud when I hear of his accomplishments. I will still hurt because he is not near me and there is no child that will cure that. For Dawson, I will not be "Mom" but for Cookie I will. The way THEY view me is different, but the way I view THEM is the same. I love them both with everything I have. I prove that to Cookie every day by being there for her in every way I can, and I proved that to Dawson by giving him a chance at an amazing life with an amazing family. Yes, I chose differently for each of my children. Most parents of multiple kids will tell you that the choices you make for one do not always fit for the others. Each of these children is unique, but the one thing they have in common is that of all the people on this earth they are the ONLY two (at this point) who I would give everything for. If I am blessed to have another boy someday he will not be Dawson, he will not replace him, he will not make me less "sad" that I cant be closer to him.

I wish I was a confrontational person. I wish I could walk up to the person who said this and tell them how their comment made me feel. Unfortunately I am not that girl, I am passive-aggressive at best. So I figured I would just put it out there into the blogoshpere and let nature take it's course.

[End Rant]

Open...

2011-10-06T06:49:00.006-07:00

Do you remember the first time you heard about open adoption?

This is the question posed in this edition of the open adoption roundtable.

If I'm being honest, the first time I realized there were different forms of adoption was after I was already pregnant. I never had any experiences with adoption before that. It was a foreign concept to me. I was so set against the idea that I tried not to pay much attention to the details. It seemed so painful and unnecessary. Why on earth would I ever do that to myself? I had a lot of misconceptions. I thought I would be separated from my son forever, I knew I could not handle that. I thought I would have to wait that painful 18 years before he could come and find me (misconceptions brought to you by my silly soap opera habit at the time). I thought he would hate me.

Things changed. My SW was kind and sweet, she listened and I'm sure many times she wished she could make me see the seriousness of this situation. It wasnt until I started having pre-term labor that things really hit me. This baby boy was by far the most amazing thing I had ever created, the most awesome and perfect gift. While I was seeing rainbows and butterflies my world was falling down around me. I was not able to return to school for most of my junior year (would I be able to finish high school?). My parents were struggling daily with bills and the stress of 2 pregnant daughters (could they still support me with the baby?). J's parents were not much better off, and I had no idea if they would want anything to do with us. J was dissapearing more and more frequently, had lost 2 jobs and was unreliable at best. When I finally started listening to what my SW had to say about openness, I was thrown into a totally new field of dreams. Could I find a place in my life for these strangers? Could I make it through this? Would they ever accept me? Could I really be part of my son's life and still give him the wonderful parents and home he deserved? Yep, I thought I could do that.

So I did, I didnt know how this would all turn out. In the beginning things were only "semi-open" meaning we knew eachother's first names and sent letters through the agency. As time passed and the restrictions became fewer, we found out more about eachother. I remember the first time I knew their last name, I felt kind of mischeivious because I found out by accident, I was so excited I squeeled. As time has passed, we have exchanged phone numbers, addresses, emails, and had many visits. I feel a deep and abiding love and respect for these amazing people. The trust we have built is a beautiful thing that I hope to nourish forever. I cant imagine what my life would be like without open adoption...

Adoption Art of the Week...

2011-10-03T11:54:00.005-07:00

Dedicated to D, G, and C

This week we return to my broadway roots. I am in serious love with the musical "Wicked" at the moment. I have it on the brain.

While listening to one particular song toward the end I felt a twinge (which happens alot) and realized once again the adoption link:

For Good:

Im limited...
Just look at me - Im limited...
And just look at you
You can do all I couldn't do, Glinda
So now it's up to you
For both of us - now it's up to you...

I've heard it said
That people come into our lives for a reason,
Bringing something we must learn
And we are led
To those who help us most to grow
If we let them
And we help them in return
Well, I don't know if I believe that's true
But I know I'm who I am today
Because I knew you...

Like a comet pulled from orbit
As it passes a sun
Like a stream that meets a boulder
Halfway through the wood
Who can say if I've been changed for the better?
But because I knew you
I have been changed for good

It well may be
That we will never meet again
In this lifetime
So let me say before we part
So much of me
Is made from what I learned from you
You'll be with me
Like a handprint on my heart
And now whatever way our stories end
Know you have re-written mine
By being my friend...

Like a ship blown from its mooring
By a wind off the sea
Like a seed dropped by a skybird
In a distant wood
Who can say if I've been changed for the better?
But because I knew you...

Because I knew you...

I have been changed for good.

And just to clear the air
I ask forgiveness
For the things I've done you blame me for

But then, I guess we know
There's blame to share

And none of it seems to matter anymore

Like a comet pulled from orbit
As it passes a sun
Like a stream that meets a boulder
Halfway through the wood

Like a ship blown from its mooring
By a wind off the sea
Like a seed dropped by a bird in the wood

Who can say if I've been
Changed for the better?
I do believe I have been
Changed for the better...

And because I knew you...

Because I knew you...

Because I knew you...

I have been changed... for good
--------------------------------

Here is where my heart is at this point: True, I could say it is a good one to dedicate to Dawson. That wasnt the first person I thought of when listening (and singing along) to it though. Perhaps because it is 2 women singing of their friendship, or maybe I am just always grateful for her to begin with, but I realized I would want this song dedicated to D. I believe this is mostly due to the beginning:"Im limited...Just look at me - Im limited...And just look at you, you can do all I couldn't do...So now it's up to you, for both of us - now it's up to you". I remember wondering how one woman would ever be able to convey the love of two mothers to this precious baby boy. How in the world would it work? She would have to be some kind of super mom... and she is, to me. She is patient and loving and kind at all the right moments. She is everything I could have dreamed of and more. As I listened through it one more time my gratitude broadened to include G and C as well. I am so grateful for them all. I have been changed because of their kindness and strength. I know I am blessed to have known them and had the chance to love them. They have always been understanding and generous. Found ways to spend time with me and make things easier. I have never met a more amazing family unit, and I know that I made the right choice when I see them all together. If I only had one message to give them it would be that they have been a huge influence in my life, and made me better for it. I wish I could hug them every day for being such amazing people. So this is my virtual dedication to the most amazing Mom, Dad and Sister that any boy could ask for, and the best kind of friends this birth mom could imagine.

Sadness...

2011-09-26T11:58:00.005-07:00

Sometimes I am just sad. I have alot of reasons to be grateful for the life I lead, but lately some things have been falling apart. I am definitely a person who cannot handle a lot of negative things happening at once without an outlet. Lately that is how it has been though. It's been an emotional week for me as I was forced to contemplate the inevitability of losing family members and also found out that someone I knew from high school was taken from this world too soon. Add in stress at work and feeling guilty about not spending more time with Cookie and I am just all out of whack.

Sadness is ok. Not good or great but it is ok. Sometimes we need to be sad, to feel out of sorts and to cry. I have to work hard to keep reminding myself of this at times. I have suffered from clinical depression off and on since I was young. It got pretty bad after Dawson was placed, and I was on meds for quite a while. I had alot of pitfalls over many years, and at one point I let it get so bad that I didnt see anything good in the world any more. I still dont remember taking the pills. I have the knowledge of those dark days but not the memory of that action. All I know is that at the time I did not understand how important my support system is. I didnt feel their love and I allowed myself to go untreated for too long. Why am I talking about this now? Because for one thing, when I am feeling down sometimes I need an outlet, and for another thing because I need people to understand I have been to the bottom of the bottom and I never want to be there again. I make a great effort to make sure I have a great support system at all times, and that I can talk about any and all things with someone. I have a wonderful counselor now, I've been off meds for years, I live in a sunny climate, I count my blessings often. I also have amazing people in my life. I have A, who after hearing I am sad today asked what he could do, and did everything in his power to cheer me up (I love that guy!). I have wonderful family who make my life a little easier and love Cookie and me no matter what. I have Dawson and Cookie and D and G and C. They make my life so much more full.

All that being said, I still feel sad today. I used to think sadness needed to be hidden. We are supposed to be happy right? We are supposed to project only our happiness to those around us. So when I felt sad or down I would just bottle that all up, and it was like this poison in me. It seeped into everything I did, turned the world a mottled gray and stripped me of all motivation. So now when I get the chance I let it out. I cry, I write, I blog, I talk, I rant, and I allow the hurt and the sadness to wash through me and out of me.

Part of the reason I am so grateful for Dawson and my adoption experience is the fact that I learned the importance of sadness. The truth in grief and the love it can reveal. I wonder if I would have gone on hiding my sadness if I hadnt learned that lesson. I wonder if I would have learned the difference between true depression and passing sadness? I wonder if I would have thought that all-encompassing blackness was what was normal, or if I would have ever learned the importance of my family and friends? I needed those lessons in order to learn my limits, and when to start talking and when it's time to get to a Doctor.

So today I will allow myself to cry about the possibility that I may not see my Gram again before she departs this earth. I will mourn for a young man's life snuffed out in his prime, and for the family he left behind. I will let the sadness roll through me for the time I am missing with Cookie, and I will be grateful for the man at home who lets me snot on his shoulder while I cry.

And when that is all done I will move forward, and be grateful for the gifts I am given daily.

Please, if you are feeling depressed or suicidal, call someone. ANYONE. Get help as soon as you can.

Adoption Art of the Week...

2011-09-19T13:19:00.006-07:00

Sorry for the recent lull in posting, I had some health issues to take care of, but we are back in business, so here is another edition of Adoption Art of the Week...

Dedicated to birth mothers

This week we are going to cover one of my favorite songs EVER, just because I feel like it. It doesnt necessarily hold for just adoption, it is just overall a good song. It's called "Smile". I heard it when I was younger, but this has been around quite a while. According to one website "Words by John Turner and Geoffrey Parsons and music by Charlie Chaplin" I do know the original tune was written for a Charlie Chaplin spot in 1936. Lyrics and title were later added for the debut of the song in this form in 1956. My favorite version is the one by Nat King Cole. Lyrics as follows:

Smile though your heart is aching
Smile even though it's breaking
When there are clouds in the sky, you'll get by
If you smile through your fear and sorrow
Smile and maybe tomorrow
You'll see the sun come shining through for you

Light up your face with gladness
Hide every trace of sadness
Although a tear may be ever so near
That's the time you must keep on trying
Smile, what's the use of crying?
You'll find that life is still worthwhile
If you just smile

Such a chipper message (or so it seems), sung with such a somber tune. I fell in love with this song right away. It almost perfectly describes how I felt after placement, keeping an ingenuine smile pasted on my face for the world. I think it was that ability to keep trudging on that allowed me to find real happiness later. When I placed my son it gave me strength, and now I sing it to my daughter when she is sad or ready to go to sleep. It seems to calm her, probably because I've been singing it since she was in the womb. When you read into the lyrics it does kind of seem a message of the era it was written for (conform, be happy, dont show the world your troubles). I suppose for some people it would be a sad statement of how people expect you to hide your true feelings. Honestly, the way I see it, it's more of a message that what we put out in the world is what will be. I choose each day to smile and love my life, and each day life hands me more and more reasons to keep smiling :D

Birth Fathers [Good, Bad and Ugly]

2011-09-15T09:00:00.000-07:00

It's a sore subject for some of us (birth mothers, single mothers). The (biological)father's of our children, how they make us react and how we feel about them. For some their name is a dirty word, and for others they just dont telk about it at all. I would wager there is a fare amount of resentment going both ways with the men who I conceived children with. What some people might be surprised to know is I am grateful for them. For all their faults, all their misdeeds and all their anger, they are the reason my children exist and I am grateful. I am even grateful for the bad things they have done to me, and all the lessons learned because of that treatment.

Let's start off with J. Keeping in mind that J and I were both still children at the time we were together. I freely and openly admit that his indiscriminant cheating was a catalyst for my choice to place.
I like to think that all things happen for a reason, and I have long since forgiven J for his childish behavior. After all, what do you expect when you throw an adolescent boy into an adult situation? He did not have the tools to deal with the serious nature of our situation any more than I did. While I had the baby as a constant reminder of why I needed to do things right, all he had was his own conflicted mind. I was not exactly a perfect person, and I was in no way prepared for a real relationship at the time. In the end J had a choice the same as I did, he signed the papers too, he was there at the hospital and he loved that baby boy. I know that he was hurt after placement, and I know he and I leaned on eachother for our grief. I like to think that we needed that understanding to get through that first year. I am grateful for the lessons I learned during that time. I no longer will tolerate cheating, in any form, by anyone I date. I feel it creates too much distrust for me to go forward. I'm grateful he taught me what I could handle in that area. I am also grateful for his shoulder during that year or so after we placed. I'm glad I had someone who was going through the same feelings who I could turn to in dark moments. I'm also grateful that the relationship ended, and that we were able to move on with our lives with other people and find the good in life again.

I still have some work to do with forgiving R (my daughters bio-father). It's alot tougher because his actions still have the power to hurt Cookie in the future. He has still taught me a few things though. He taught me that I am still vulnerable, and that my children will always be more important to me than anyone else on this planet. He taught me that I can be fierce and mean when my child is threatened, and that sometimes the truth is only as clear as our perception. I'm thankful that I have my daughter, so I cannot regret being with him. The story with him is not quite over yet though, so I think until I know the outcome I will be holding my breathe and preparing for the worst.

Overall the best thing I have learned from the biological father's of my children is how amazing it can be when your child has a true father in their life. Seeing Dawson with G and seeing Cookie with A have made me realize how precious that bond is. I am so glad I know the difference between biology and parenthood. I'm grateful every day for that lesson, and the proof before my eyes.

What NOT to Say to a Birth Mother...

2011-09-13T08:33:00.003-07:00

This is something I wrote a while back and posted on my sister's blog here. She asked me to write something for her for national adoption month, and gave me a selection of topics. I chose this one because I think it will hit home for alot of people, both birth and adoptive parents. I'm being a little lazy lately but working on a few things at once too, so I decided to pull some old material. Hopefully you wont mind too much.

________________________________________________

I once heard someone say “No matter how many babies you carry out of the hospital with you, you will never forget the one you did not”. There is a sting there that never really heals, a wounded piece of yourself that you hide away and nurse in your weakest moments. In some ways, when you place a child for adoption, you are sentencing yourself to the life of an outsider. Even your closest family and friends can sometimes be insensitive and callous. There are always people who will say terrible things, which is why many of us who have been on either side of the adoption world don’t usually talk about it right off the bat with people. Once you experience that first person who judges you harshly for your experience, you tend to guard that part of yourself from the hurt of those comments. I think it should be common knowledge and common courtesy to think before we speak in every situation, especially in matters that are close to someone else’s heart. Unfortunately some people do not believe that is necessary, and so here I will discuss what not to say to someone who has placed a child for adoption. Please keep in mind that these insights are my own, and may not reflect the feelings of EVERY birth mother in the world. I am only speaking from my own experience, along with the experiences of those birth mothers whom I have spoken with.

First things first: Think before you speak.
This is the main point I want to get across. I am not asking that anyone refrain from asking questions when speaking with me or any other birth mom. I am simply imploring every human being to realize that the people around you have emotions. I can almost guarantee that this part of a birth mom’s life will bring up strong feelings and reactions. Most of the women I know who have placed will cry simply from talking about their child, and many of them can barely speak about it. It’s a very private thing for most of us, and we share it with those who we feel comfortable and safe with. Please keep this in mind whenever you ask a question or think about saying something judgemental.

1. “I could never give up my baby.”

This statement smacks of moral superiority. As if someone is trying to say that the decision to place your child was entirely selfish and that you just dropped your baby in a dumpster somewhere. I have never met a birth mom who found it easy to walk away from a child. I have also never met one who felt that the decision to place a child was right for every mother in hard circumstances. Most of the women I have heard this from are either pregnant or have very young children. It’s as if they want me to know that they don’t want me “preaching” to them about the benefits of adoption. After placing my son I had to go back to high school, and there were several girls who got pregnant after I had placed my son who completely avoided me because they thought I would berate them for wanting to “keep” their baby. I would never assume to tell anyone what is right for them. If a young pregnant girl came to me and genuinely wanted to know about my experiences, I would confide all of the wonderful parts of placing my son: knowing he is safe in good hands, the wonderful relationship I have with him and his family, being able to see pictures of him going to far off places and having fun vacations, being able to finish high school and live on my own for a time, feeling at peace with my decision. To this same troubled young woman I would give all of the not so fun facts: The years of grieving I have experienced, the feeling of loneliness and jealousy when in the company of other mom’s, the fears, anxieties and difficulties of being one of the small percent who place, the part of yourself that never really feels right. It is a difficult road to travel and not one I would wish on anyone who did not want it. In most cases the above statement is simply not necessary. Most people in our society couldn’t imagine parting with a child, which is why there are so few internal adoptions in the US. As adoptive parents, we already feel like outsiders because of our experience, by saying you “could never” do what we did, you are only reiterating the fact that we are different, and making us feel alienated from you at the same time. All in all this is simply not necessary, so just try to avoid saying it.

2. “You can always have more children”

Most of us who have had children will understand why this statement rings as rude and callous. Again I will say that no amount of children in my home will ever “replace” or “make up” for the child that is not there. In the case of a woman who loses a child to death it is obvious to anyone that this woman is grieving that loss. Some people seem to think that because we made the choice we don’t deserve the same respect that you would give someone grieving the death of a child. By no means am I comparing the two situations, I realize that the grieving of a mother whose child has died is it’s own monster entirely, but still the fact remains that we are grieving the loss of a child. No matter the fact that we made the choice, we still feel that loss as any mother would. The difference is that at the same time we are grieving we are also at peace with the decision because we gifted that child with a life they would not have had otherwise.

3. “Don’t you worry about the effect your presence will have on the child?” (In regards to open adoption)

This was almost word-for-word the statement I heard from a family member not too long ago. It stung mostly because I had hoped that by now most of my family and friends would understand how important my relationship is with not only my son, but also his adoptive family. I consider myself lucky to be one of the few who has open contact with the adoptive family of my child. I have come to love his family and think of them as an extension of my own. We visit regularly, talk on the phone and write emails back and forth. After every new contact I feel revitalized and elated, and I love them more and more each time I talk to them. I realize that there is still the view out there that adoptions should be closed, this is usually out of fear that the birth family will seek custody of the child or out of fear of confusing the child at some point. I have no doubts that the latter was what my family member intended to convey at the time. I certainly understand the concern, and perhaps in another time, this was the most acceptable thing, but in an age where communication and information are readily accessible to everyone it is simply not as feasible as it used to be. Having done the research myself out of my own curiosity, I know the studies of adopted children have shown that those who are told from the time they are young that they are adopted have a better chance of being well-adjusted adults. This has to do with their confidence in their parents and also in themselves. Those in open adoption situations have even less issues because they never have to ask if their biological parents “wanted” them. They know it was not about wanting, it was about what was best. Of course I still worry that he may get confused one day, but I trust that his parents will know what is best for him, and I will do whatever they think is best. For my son this has always been the norm, he doesn’t question that and he knows he can ask questions of his parents or myself anytime he needs to.

4. “Didn’t you love your baby?”

Yes! With every fiber of my being and with every piece of my soul I love him. There was not a moment of his existence when I felt less than 100% love for him. Anyone who can ask this question of me has never had a child of their own. Having him will forever be one of the greatest moments of my life, and placing him will always be one of the hardest. Sometimes the hardest things are what has to be done. Had it been simply about me and my needs he would have come home with me from that hospital. This choice was in no way about me, yes I did benefit from it in some obvious and some unexpected ways, but I would have given all that up if I had only been thinking about me. The only thing that has gotten me through the tough times has been the knowledge that this was the right thing for HIM. I carried him, birthed him, held him, loved him and let him go all so that he could have the wonderful life and family he deserved. I love him every day and think of him often. Only for someone I loved so much could I give up a piece of myself. For him I did that, and for no one else. Don’t ask me if I loved my child, it’s just mean spirited and the answer is so obvious that I cant imagine why some people ask.

5. “Have you ever thought of taking him back?”

The answer to this question is no, absolutely never. My son is lucky enough to have one of the most amazing women I have ever met as his Mom. He has a wonderful man for a father and he even has a big sister who loves him. I could never take those things away from him, even if I never got to know them, never loved them and never knew how amazing they were. I could not take him away from the only family he has ever known. Just the thought of that makes me sick. Of course because I do feel all of those things for them now I would also never do that to them, but in any case my son was always the deciding factor, and I could never hurt him like that. I have never met a birth mom who would want this, and even though the stories abound I really think this is the exception and not the rule.

I understand the curiosity that people have around this subject, so I know that sometimes questions are asked simply because this is a situation that not many people have experienced in their own life. I am always happy to answer the well-meaning questions of my friends or acquaintances. Another pointer: Please don’t ask me to talk to someone you know who you think “should” place their child. It’s not a decision anyone but that person can make, and I will not try to force anyone to look into this option. Yes, I have first hand experience and I am happy to share that with truly interested parties, but I cant convince someone who doesn’t want to hear what I have to say.

I hope this information is somewhat helpful to someone who plans on talking to a birth mom soon. Remember to keep your curiosity, ask what you want to know but please THINK before you speak!

You MUST do as I do

2011-07-21T08:21:00.001-07:00

Here is the misconception I see all the time: People believe that because I placed my child I will think that is what all single mother's should do. This is not even close to true.

It has come to the point where I feel unable to talk about my experiences around some of my single mom friends. I can admit that I often put too much stock in my reputation and how people think of me. I dont want to be seen as the girl who condemns people who dont do the things I do. I have actually lost friends because of placement. It's the sad reality that some people just dont understand that I can still support them in whatever decision they make. Placement is a big deal, and should not be a decision that comes lightly. There have even been times when people have asked me to talk to their family members about adoption, I will always refuse if they do not want to talk to me. I am not going to be a part of forcing anyone to place. I will certainly help them to get a better picture if they are considering it, but I am not going to lie to them either by giving them a rosie picture of the future. I know alot of mom's who are wonderful on their own, and with my second child I also decided to single parent. It's a tough job no matter how you slice it.

I often say that it is because I loved my son that I placed him. Does this mean I think someone who keeps their child loves them less? Not at all, it simply means that they chose what was right for their child and for them. I cant fault them that, and I would never want to make that decision for anyone. I agonized over it with my daughter, and I even wondered if I was choosing selfishly, but in the end everything worked out the way it was supposed to. I know now that the only thing I would have been able to regret is if I did not analyze and think over every option. Then and only then would I have felt like I may have made a mistake in whatever choice I made. Because I did agonize (for both of my kids) I know that the decisions I made for them and for me were the right ones.

So my advice to someone who is looking into placing a child is this: Think it through. Dont worry about what others may think, but think through the consequences of each action and figure out what will allow for the most happiness in both of your lives. Think of yourself and most of all think of your child, and understand that the hardships are coming no matter which way you go. Dont be afraid to ask questions of other single moms, birth moms and anyone who is willing to help. Dont ever allow someone else to influence you by saying you are selfish for one or another choice. Above all else please dont just make a decision based on what others expect of you. You may regret it later on and it will be too late to change anything.

Hopefully I have made myself clear on this issue. Please feel free to ask questions of me as long as they are respectful. I have a little bit of both views so it may make things easier for some.

Thanks for reading!

Adoption Art of the Week

2011-07-03T06:55:00.003-07:00

Weekly installment where I talk about music, photographs, poetry or a specific peice of art that reflects my feelings about adoption.

This week is dedicated to my readers :D

This is a word cloud created referencing this entire blog. It amuses me and makes me wonder how they pick the words that will have the most emphasis. It does seem to capture the gist of this blog dont you think?

If you want to create one you can do what I did and use this site:

It's pretty cool :)

Adoption Art of the Week...

2011-06-26T11:30:00.006-07:00

New weekly installment where I talk about music, photographs, poetry or a specific peice of art that reflects my feelings about adoption.

Dedicated to Dawson

This week I will focus on the song this blog is named for:

One More Day ~ Diamond Rio
Last night I had a crazy dream
A wish was granted just for me,
It could be for anything
I didn't ask for money
Or a mansion in malibu
I simply wished, for one more day with you

One more day
One more time
One more sunset, maybe I'd be satisfied
But then again
I know what it would do
Leave me wishing still, for one more day with you

First thing I'd do is pray for time to crawl
I'd unplug the telephone
And keep the tv off
I'd hold you every second
Say a million I love you's
That's what I'd do. With one more day with you

One more day
One more time
One more sunset, maybe I'd be satisfied
But then again
I know what it would do
Leave me wishing still, for one more day
Leave me wishing still for one more day
Leave me wishing still for one more day
With you

This song was very popular in my circle during the year that I had my son. I'm sure all the rest of my high-school friends thought of some boy when hearing it, but for me it was always a reminder of how I felt about my son. Every line seems to be ripped from my own mind, because I wished for more time with my son over and over. Unfortunately I also knew that no amount of time with him would ever be enough, so I was content to relive my 3 days with him. It's funny because I do have an open adoption, so I think people have this perception that he really isnt gone from my life. In all reality he is gone though, and it's not the visits that I wish for (although I look forward to them and love them dearly as well) it is a wish for more than just that 3 days. My own selfish heart wished that I could have been his mommy for longer. The problem is that no matter what the perception may be of open adoption, he has never called me "Mom" and to him I am this obscure figure who he sees every now and then. He does know about me, who I am and what that means, but I am no more than a distant relative to him. I dont begrudge that, in fact I am more than happy with the relationship we have now. It's just strange because there is this disconnect between him being my son and me not being his mother.

The second verse always gets to me, "First thing I'd do is pray for time to crawl" I dont know how many times during my 3 days I prayed that time could just slow down. I'm sure it dragged on for his family, but for me those days slipped away like water through my hands. I felt like I just couldnt hold him enough, or kiss him enough or love him enough. As in the song I wanted all distraction to go away. I shared my 3 days with J. and my family, but in some ways I wished I'd had more alone time with him. I was grateful for the help and the support, but I wanted to savor each moment too. "I'd hold you every second, say a million I love you's"... I wish I had said I loved him more. I think in many ways I was shell shocked during that time. I wasnt prepared for all these emotions bombarding me at once, and I didnt know how to deal with it all so I just didnt say much. I remember a few sideways glances from friends and family who know my normally talkative self. I was almost mute, and when I did speak it was about mundane things. I played cards alot, it helped to have something to focus on so people stopped asking if I was ok, all the while I was holding the baby close.

I guess looking back this was always my go-to song for how I felt during that first year. Even though time seems to dull the pain and my visits with them are like a balm to my heart I still come back to this song over and over. I think it will always have a special meaning for me, even as time washes away alot of the wishes and hopes. During that first year I clung to these lyrics like a lifeline, but now I look back on them with fondness, knowing that I made the right choices and everything turned out right.

Aftermath

2011-06-23T07:40:00.006-07:00

I think alot about those 3 days with my son, I'm sure that is why I write about it more often. I suppose for me that was the most important part. It's like I experienced those 3 days in high definition and I relive them over and over. I think part of me is afraid if I dont keep going over it I will somehow forget. Because of that fear I sometimes forget to tell the continuing story of our beautiful lives. I have a hard time focusing on the present or the future when my mind keeps wandering to the past. I dont know if that will ever really go away, but it does seem that it has gotten better over time. It has been about 8.5 years since that last moment with my son in the hospital. I have had the privilege of watching him grow and change into a little man with a heart of gold. I see him and his family as often as I can, usually about once a year. It always feels like I am recharging my batteries when I spend time with them. Then I slowly lose that energy as time passes and I have to wait for our next visit. Alot can happen in over 8 years. We have all had growing experiences, difficulties, pains and trials in that time.

First, let me tell you about my son's family. D is his Mom, she is beautiful and vibrant and strong, and I love her like a long-lost sister. G is his Dad, a warm and wonderful presence with an awesome smile, and I have the deepest respect for him. Last but not least is his sister C, she is the biological child of D and G and she is one of the sweetest young women I know. Together they make up an amazing family, sometimes when I watch them together I feel like they are in total synchronization. They seem to see eachother clearly, and are able to show their love for eachother in the small moments they have. It's amazing to be able to be a part of their lives. They have had their hardships too, but always seem to come out stronger in the end. Over the past 8 years they have had some great times, vacations and family trips that I got to experience through pictures. They have moved, found new hobbies, suffered illnesses and found learning difficulties with the little man (I wont go into great detail out of respect for them). Through all of the good and the bad they have stuck by eachother, supported one another and loved unconditionally. That is only from the little I know of their major events. I am sure they have plenty of day-to-day moments that make up the greater whole of the amazing family they have. I am proud to have the opportunity to be part of their lives, although I wont take credit because I think they were always meant to be part of my family.

As for me, I have had alot of life lessons over the last 8 years. After the break up with J. sometime in 2004, I dated someone else seriously for about 2 years. We got engaged in 2006 and then he pulled the plug on the relationship in early 2007. I had made the mistake of hanging all of my hopes and dreams on that one person. After it ended I sort of fell apart, and had a "nervous breakdown" (according to a psychologist I saw after the fact). It was an eye opener for me, to realize that I had allowed someone else to effect me to the point where I felt they were part of my identity. I took a step back, looked at my life and realized I hadnt had the chance to do much growing of my own, I had been too busy trying to be what other people needed. So when the opportunity presented itself to move out of state I took it. I moved almost 2000 miles away from my home town, to a state where I had very little family, and I struck out to make it on my own. I got to know my extended family in this area, through them found a great job, and worked to improve my life as I went.

For 3 years I didnt date anyone for more than a month or so, but in 2009 I found myself pregnant again. This time the father didnt even pretend to try to be there, he just dissapeared. I thought through my choices, my abilities, my maturity. I sought advice from family, friends, peers and counsellors. In the end I knew that I was a different person this time, older, wiser, stronger and more capable. I had the means and the ability to make this child a good life. This child was mine, and I felt that in a way that I could not deny. I worried alot, and questioned my choice every day to make sure it was the right one. It was only confirmed after they placed that baby girl on my belly and I looked into her face. Please dont misunderstand, I love my son just as much as my daughter, they are both little pieces of my heart that I cant imagine my life without. It was never a question of loving one more or less than the other. I chose for my son the best life I could offer, and I did the same for my daughter. The only thing that ever really bothered me was the lack of a father in her life. If I had known the path life would take me on I never would have agonized over that. My baby girl had no father in her life for about 6 months. During that time she and I bonded in amazing ways, but after that I met her "real" dad. We didnt know he would be her Dad, but now we all live in the same house and my daughter calls him Daddy. He is my boyfriend, A, and he is one of the kindest and most giving men I know. I feel lucky to have had this chance to see where my life would take me. I have been dependent, independent, emotionally broken, depressed. I've raised hell, grown up, made bad decisions, owned up to my mistakes and become a better person for it (I hope). Life has brought me twists I never would have seen coming, and each has been a learning experience. They say you have to break someone down before you can build them back up, and life has done just that to my heart. I dont regret a single moment of my life because each one has brought me to this point. I am happy, healthy, whole, loved and I have an amazing family. At no point in my life have I been more blessed than in the last year. I know there will be other hard times, other lessons to be learned. I also know that for now life is amazing, and I will always know that happiness is waiting for me at the end of the black times.

A happy ending for all, exactly as I was hoping it would be. My son has an amazing family and more love than a little boy could hope for. My own life has been blessed and all of us are in the places we are supposed to be.

Weighed, Measured and Found Wanting

2011-06-21T09:48:00.004-07:00

"You have been weighed, you have been measured, and you have been found wanting." A Knight's Tale

This statement has stuck in my mind on many occasions. I realize that to a normal person hearing this may just bring to mind the movie reference, or a picture of Heath Ledger in Medieval garb (insert wolf-whistle here). For me it perfectly describes my own thought processes around the choice to place. Being "found wanting" for me has a double-meaning. Yes, I was lacking in knowledge, skill, maturity, financial security, etc.. but I also felt a desperate need (a want if you will) to give my child these things. As much as the statement seems to imply my lack of readiness, it also (IMHO) describes my desire for better opportunities for my son. He was the one person I could not live without, but also the only person who I was willing to give everything for.

I will not say the decision was an easy one, that would be an outrageous lie. I was dead-set to be the perfect mother for my son. I figured that where there was enough love it wouldnt matter how much money we had. I still believe that children born into poverty can become amazing individuals, and I do believe that love is a major need for all children. I also do not believe that my son would have ended up starving or unclothed with me. I know we would have had a community of family behind us. At first I was convinced that J. and I would get married, get jobs and have other children eventually. My little family would be perfect and all would be well with the world.

Unfortunately life is not the fairy tale I thought it would be and just because I had the capacity to be a mother did not mean I knew what was ahead for me. The first major turning point was the day I found out about J.'s infidelity. It was the first time I had been betrayed in that way and I had no idea how to deal with it. I never thought I would be one of those girls who clung to a boy to fulfill my life, and I knew that by forgiving him I was doing just that. I thought if I let go of him my dreams of family would be shattered. I couldnt deal with that. So I held on tight and tried to ignore the late nights, the lies and the mistrust. After a while it became habit, and even blatantly catching him didnt jolt me out of the illusion that he would change.

Then came the day when it was no longer just me being effected. One night J. was gone without a trace, I had no way to reach him and no idea where he could be. My heart pounded hard, and I may have been hyperventilating, I know I was crying. Every possible scenario ran through my brain, was he dead, stranded, lost, or was something more devious going on? I tried to sleep but couldnt relax, tried to watch a movie but couldnt focus. Early the next morning, after sleeping shortly, I woke up because the baby was doing cartwheels. I felt my stomach move furiously. Then stop completely. I was scared already, but tried to calm down and relax. I had pain in my stomach but thought it may have been from all that kicking. After almost 2 hours of no movement at all I told my mom we needed to head to the office of my CNM. We had called her at home and she encouraged me to come in right away, we were there less than 10 minutes after the office opened. Machines were strapped to me and my CNM checked my cervix. After about half an hour the baby started to move again and my CNM informed me I was having regular contractions. I was less than 7 months pregnant, but the stress was causing me to go into pre-term labor. I had already started effacing, and had to be given something to stop the contractions. I would be on bedrest for the remaining weeks of pregnancy, and would have to have periodic ultrasounds and visits with a specialist.

I went home with orders to rest and relax, and shortly after arriving home finally heard from J. He had been staying the night at a "friend's" who was female, but he claimed there was nothing going on and I was "being paranoid". I told him about the morning's excitement, and that I could no longer go to school. I think the fact that he was not there during this crisis finally drove home that the change I wanted would never be possible. I cried, and sat on my bed and tried to find the strength to call him back and say we were through. I felt weak and foolish, but I couldnt do it. So I talked to the baby, asked him what he wanted me to do.

I believed in God for alot of my life, but I also have a stubborn side that really needed freedom. Growing up in a religion with rules about pretty much everything, and being shunned by many after becoming pregnant, had given me a reason to step back from God for a while. For the first time in years I felt something I couldnt explain. I heard every piece of advice from every person who had asked if I considered adoption. My sister, my parents, friends, peers, and a counsellor/caseworker my parents had me going to. For the first time the idea took form in my head, and I didnt shove it to one side as usual. I thought about what life would bring in the next few years for me and my baby boy. Thought about separate houses, and parents fighting and coming to hate eachother. I thought about the strain on my own parents' finances, and how I would have to work and most likely quit school. I knew in my heart that J. and I would never make it together, we would tear eachother apart. Picturing my baby boy watching as his mother was disrespected over and over until she finally broke down and gave up on that future. Knowing the example his father would be, and the amount of time I would be away from him. It was like my life flashed before my eyes, and I knew that I couldnt bare all the dissapointment it would bring.

So, just for a moment, I tried on the choice. I would place him with parents who would love him just as I did, who would be together always and respect eachother. A father who knew that being a man was about the respect you can give others, and a mother who would have the heart and the experience to teach him about life. They would have fun vacations and holidays filled with laughter. Maybe I would be in their lives or maybe they wouldnt want that. It was like I could see their faces already, and I knew right then that this was not just something I was thinking about doing, but something I must do. It felt right even while my heart broke. I knew that if I chose his well-being over my own emotional needs I would never regret it. I WANTED these things for him. I had weighed and measured myself, and found myself wanting more for this child who I loved.

Questions...?

2011-06-20T14:47:00.002-07:00

Looking for ideas, inspiration, topics of interest or questions regarding the adoption (or open adoption) experience from my point of view. I have a few things on the back burner, but I want to see if anyone has any ideas or suggestions to start this site off right. I am also creating a FAQ's page eventually with info from several other birth moms I know, and alot of the questions I am asked constantly. Please join in, and feel free to ask anything(within reason).

Thanks!
Red

Moving on...?

2011-06-16T14:16:00.004-07:00

Once you place a child people have so much advice for you. Some of it is helpful, but most of it is subjective. Things like "let yourself grieve" and "learn to let go" were pretty common sentiments shortly after I placed my son. People wanted me to try to move on and move past the hurt and the sadness. There was a problem with this; I didnt want to. I felt like if I left my grief behind I would be leaving my love for my son behind too. For about a year after I placed him I grieved and felt the emptiness, failure and depression. I was a wreck, I couldnt read any of the letters from his family. Couldnt talk about the placement, couldnt do anything but feel alone. I relived my 3 days with him over and over until I felt like I would burst. I was inconsolable.

Something happened shortly after my Dawson's first birthday. I had a visit with him and got a chance to see him interact with his family. He was happy and healthy and whole. I felt like the sunlight had pierced my dark corner for the first time in a long time. The truth that I found during that visit was astounding: I didnt have to grieve forever for my loss. I could be happy because he was happy. I knew I would never forget and never stop loving that little boy, but in order to love him I did not have to suffer. I wasnt really moving on... but I was able to move forward.

I have thought about this many times over the years since then. There are still days that I feel that same crushing sensation in my chest, whether on his birthday or mothers day or a special occasion. Most of the time it is fleeting now. I have learned that the sadness is almost always followed by peace, and the peace is followed by happiness. I am happier now than I can ever remember being. Sometimes I feel guilty about that and I'm sure that's pretty common. People seem to think that becasue I have a child of my own now it makes it easier to deal with the feelings for my son. If anything the opposite is true. I worry that he will think I favored her, or that I loved him less, when that is not even possible. My daughter brings me the joys of being a true mother, and she makes me so happy, but no child will ever be my son's replacement. Unfortunately emotions are messy and often hard to explain. I try to move forward every day knowing that one day he will be able to be proud of me and of where he came from. I suppose most of the good things I have done in my adult life have been to prove that I am worthy of being in his life.

So I guess this is me, purging some things I dont get to say often, moving forward but never moving on...

The Choice...

2011-06-16T11:48:00.005-07:00

Placing a child for adoption is not something girls dream about. It is not a pretty fairy tale that has a happy ending and it is not an easy road. You dont get to move on or forget, even when you do move forward. No matter where you go or what your life brings that choice is there. Hovering, ghostly and silent, in your life and in your mind. For most of us, it is a quiet ghost, one we dont mind sharing our time with. Though painful to look at it is also a peaceful reminder of an event that blessed many lives. I wont say it is always good, feelings are messy, and just as many times as you are grateful you may also feel guilty, ashamed, sad, angry, jealous or alone. At least for me, those feelings are always balanced by the joy I feel at the wonderful life my child is leading.