Adoption Art of The Week...

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?

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

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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...

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...

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

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

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

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

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

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…


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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]

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...

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...

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.