Happy Birthday...

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

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...

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...

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

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

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

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.