tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24378539051276330132024-02-20T07:42:03.728-08:00SeaBarriesThe journey of a first mom finding her son, lost to adoption, and all the crap she buried along the way.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger41125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2437853905127633013.post-34268684014230242742013-12-27T17:18:00.000-08:002013-12-27T22:10:53.922-08:00HealingWow, it's been a year since I've written here. 2013 was a very, very difficult year. Closed a business, got very depressed, panic attacks came back after 10 years, started a new business - which is good, but very stressful financially- and you guessed it, went back to therapy. <br />
<br />
When I showed up at my first therapy appointment, I was a hot mess. I was having panic attacks everywhere; sleeping, in the shower, while I was out running, riding in a car. I was about six weeks into a bad bout of agoraphobia, crying all the time, desperate for some medication and some serious healing. It took her about a month to get me leveled out so the panic attacks were no longer ruling my life, and then we started on the hard stuff.<br />
<br />
I had chosen this therapist because, A.) she took our insurance and B.) she listed adoption issues in her list of specialties. I was a little nervous that her version of "adoption issues" would be more along the lines of "what a great gift you gave someone" which might inhibit her ability to help me overcome my issues. It turns out, I had nothing to fear. She has been compassionate, intelligent, unbiased and present with me for this whole process. <br />
<br />
I have learned so much over the last eight months and I have done something I never thought possible. I have forgiven myself. For the last 34 years, I have been angry, depressed, guilt-ridden, bitter and pained beyond belief over the loss of my son. Couldn't see how it would ever be possible to forgive myself for doing something so heinous. Didn't clearly understand that my sons birth and his adoption was that line that changed everything in my life. How I felt about myself and my family. I felt like there were two voices in me as an adult. The one that was confident, smart, capable - talented even - and the one that secretly knew what a fuck-up she was. I couldn't let go of the seventeen year old, the girl that had done something so despicable as to give up her own son. I hated her, and therefore I could never, as an adult, fully embrace myself. No matter what good I have done in my life, I have always had that scared, messed up girl's voice in me, undermining it all. <br />
<br />
This has been a long and arduous road. It was weeks and weeks and weeks of me just bawling in her office. Then I went weeks and weeks and weeks of bawling and anger. Then I went to weeks and weeks of talking, accepting and learning. I must say, there is something besides the therapy that has helped put that scared seventeen year old girl in perspective. My daughter is now the age I was when I gave birth to my son. There are days when she is so mature, making great decisions for her life and then there are days when she is driving straight into a brick wall with absolutely no clue how to avoid it. I've seen first hand that a seventeen year olds brain is not fully developed and that they are not always capable of doing the really difficult things, you know, like standing up to their parents and the adoption industry and saying they want to keep their baby when they have no education, job, money or family support. That the decisions my daughter makes for her life now will not be the same as the decision she makes five years from now. That she will make decisions now that she will regret and that this whole process is normal for a girl in her late teens. The "poor" decisions she makes now, should not define her for the rest of her adult life. That's where I got stuck. The decision to not raise my son was so brutally painful that emotionally, maybe even developmentally, I never really moved on. <br />
<br />
I've learned that self forgiveness does not negate my accountability. I love my son deeply. I still feel sadness and regret that I didn't raise him. I just don't hate myself as much. As difficult as this journey was, ( and trust me, I still have a ways to go) I am so proud that I have gone through it. Not just for myself, although clearly there is a great personal benefit to all of this. I needed to heal so I can be there for my son, if he ever chooses to actually communicate with me. I need to be in a healthy place so that if he ever needs answers to questions or needs to unleash some of his anger in my direction I am capable of helping him. I need to heal for my daughter so that she can see that you can make huge, life altering mistakes and recover from them. I need to heal so that my children can develop a relationship that doesn't have a huge, dark cloud hanging over it. Maybe I even needed to heal so that other first mothers can see that it can be done. Maybe sharing this will give one person the hope that healing is possible so when she gets that phone call or letter she can stand and embrace it instead of running in shame.<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2437853905127633013.post-37855925804974727752012-12-24T23:36:00.000-08:002012-12-24T23:36:34.212-08:00If Only They KnewIf only they knew how heavy they weighed on<br />
Our hearts<br />
Our minds<br />
Our souls<br />
<br />
If only they knew how much a part of<br />
Our thoughts<br />
Our prayers<br />
Our lives<br />
they are<br />
<br />
If only they knew that they are with us for every<br />
Holiday<br />
Birthday<br />
Day<br />
Moment<br />
<br />
If only they knew that they are part of<br />
Every breath we breathe<br />
Every thought we think<br />
Every moment we live<br />
<br />
If only they knew these things<br />
Then they would know<br />
That they are loved<br />
<br />
Until then<br />
We are lost<br />
<br />
For my son,<br />
Happy Hanukkah, Merry Christmas, Happy New Year<br />
<br />
Love,<br />
Mom<br />
<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2437853905127633013.post-25111760935639322762012-07-24T22:25:00.001-07:002012-07-24T22:31:52.841-07:00Disappointment and Tourist tipsWell, it's probably time to face the facts. My trip to Chicago is just not going to happen. I kept hoping that the right combination of plane fares, income at the store and a little time off would magically come together for us. Alas, it wasn't to be. The closer it gets, the sadder I am about it. I would have really enjoyed adding my time and energy to this cause and meeting some of the people that I have grown to respect and admire so much over the last year. On the other hand, if I were to refer to my favorite saying "What's for you, won't go by you," maybe it's not the right time for me to come out of the closet on this issue in the town where it all began (or ended?!) for me.<br />
<br />
My son lives less than six blocks from Ed Debevics. It's been four months since the promise of a letter from him was made. I'm still waiting to hear from him. My stats tell me that he has been checking the blog I set up for him. I've posted a few more things there, mostly updates on his sister and birthday wishes for him, so I know he's not completely detaching from all of this, but so far he hasn't made the leap to write that letter. <br />
<br />
Could I be in Chicago, my hometown, his home, and for the first time in my adult life, speak out openly (live and in person) and loudly for adoptee rights and not have a mountain of triggers crash down on me? I don't know. I'd hoped that over the last four months I would have more contact from him, some idea of what he's thinking and how he's feeling about all of this. I'd hoped that I would have had the opportunity to tell him my feelings regarding the civil rights that were denied him when he became an adopted individual. It's not something I want him to read about in the paper or see on local t.v. I don't want to accidentally run into him while I'm having lunch in his neighborhood, nor do I want to drink that extra martini and think I should stand in front of his building for an hour in hopes of catching a glimpse of him. <br />
<br />
So, while I'm really disappointed that I won't be a part of this, showing my support and meeting really great people, maybe everything does happen for a reason. <br />
<br />
For those of you going to Chicago, I hope you are able to make a great impact on the legislators and their staff members. Enjoy that gorgeous city and the warmth of the people that live there. Here are some of my favorite places to go:<br />
<br />
Pizza: Must eat at either Uno's, Due's or Lou Malanati's; the BEST deep dish pizza around.<br />
Music: Definitely hit the blues bars, they are amazing! B.L.U.E.S. on Halsted is a tiny, packed bar with GREAT music (okay, I'm biased, I worked there for three years) across the street is The Kingston Mines. They are open later and much bigger, usually have two bands at night there. Buddy Guys and Blues Chicago are good choices for downtown. The Checkerboard Lounge on the south side has great music, but it's in a really bad area of the city, wouldn't recommend traveling there, the other bars are all great and much safer. <br />
Comedy: The late night improv shows at Second City are fantastic. It is, after all, the home of scores of famous comedians and improve artists. The pictures on the wall alone are worth the trip.<br />
Hot Dog: The Wiener Circle on Clark Street is a blast late at night. This would be a good place to go if you are hungry after hitting the Mines and B.L.U.E.S. Be prepared, it gets a little crazy in there, but the food is good and it's worth the experience.<br />
Shopping: Michigan Avenue is a must. There are some great boutiques on Oak Street as well. I should probably say browsing instead of shopping as this area is very expensive, but every designer imaginable has a place on Michigan Ave and it's so fun to check out how the other half lives!<br />
Museums: The Art Institute, The Field Museum, The Museum of Science and Industry, the She'd Aquarium are all top notch. Can't go wrong with any of them.<br />
Beach: If you get a chance to walk along the beach DURING THE DAY, do it! Oak Street heading South gives you beautiful views of downtown. Also, from the Shedd Aquarium walking North is amazing as well. Please don't do this at night. It's just not that safe, especially for tourists who don't know where they're going. Perfectly fine during the day, though.<br />
<br />
Hope these help! Can't wait to hear all about it.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2437853905127633013.post-49199018228289808782012-05-19T11:05:00.000-07:002012-05-19T11:05:05.330-07:00Today He Turns 33I can't believe he's 33 years old today. I can't believe how much grief there still is. It just never ends, does it? <br />
<br />
I hope he has a great day. I hope he's surrounded by his wife, his mom and his friends that love him. I hope he takes a minute out of his day to think of me and I hope when he does, he feels all the love that I am sending him.<br />
<br />
As for me, I'm going to go for a run on the beach and try to rescue myself from this black hole that I'm falling in to.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2437853905127633013.post-21303214534231451552012-04-29T22:10:00.000-07:002012-04-29T22:10:46.227-07:00A Great New ExperienceI had a great time tonight. I met with a fellow blogger, Jeanette, from <a href="http://ourheartslinked.wordpress.com/" target="_blank">Heartslinked</a>. It turns out we live about an hour away from each other and she was nice enough to come to my neck of the woods for our first f2f visit. I've never met another real and in person first mom before. I was a little nervous, wondering if we would have enough to talk about, enough in common to not make our visit awkward. Six hours later we were still going strong! We talked about EVERYTHING! <br />
<br />
This was the first time I've ever talked about my son with someone who absolutely, unequivocally, got it. No shame or explanations necessary. It was so freeing, not only to talk about how I felt, but to listen to what she had to say and completely get where she was coming from. We talked about our individual adoption experiences, the politics of adoption, family, our kids, husbands, diets, allergies, work, and how they all linked back to adoption. It seems most things in our lives lead back to adoption, but for the first time for me, that was okay, it actually made sense. <br />
<br />
The only loss we felt tonight was the absence of other fellow bloggers that we respect and hope to meet live and in person someday soon. What a great experience it will be to talk (and not type) to a group of women I've come to respect so much. I'm crossing my fingers that I'll make it to Chicago. If not, anyone interested in a Napa Valley Wine Tour?Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2437853905127633013.post-1460402090745725152012-03-02T08:42:00.000-08:002012-03-02T08:42:38.340-08:00His MessageTuesday night, around midnight, I start my usual routine of getting into bed, firing up my computer, playing a stupid, mindless game on Facebook before I read a little and go to sleep. I fire up Facebook and notice I have a message waiting for me. Not thinking much of it, I click on it and see my sons picture there. For a split second, I think, "Why did I go directly to my sent messages? That's odd." And then I see it. "Hi Laurie" HOOLLEEE SHHIIZZLLESS! Okay, that's not a direct quote, but you get the idea! I start screaming out for my husband, who is in the other room and go running in just screaming my son's name, grab his hand, drag him into the bedroom and show him the computer.<br />
<br />
I really want to share his whole message to me because it is so beautiful and wonderful, but I'll just share the highlights. He started out by apologizing for taking so long to respond to "the beautiful letter" I had sent last year. He was waiting to write a letter so that he could "devote the same amount of love, attention, emotion and time that you put in your letter." He explained that he got engaged, married and finished his MBA in 2011 and time just got away from him. He also explained that he never checks his Facebook, which is where I've been sending messages after my initial letter, and accidentally came across my messages as he was upgrading the app on his phone. He saw the blog I made for him and loved it! He told me he wants to send me a very long letter telling me all the details of his "adventurous life", but in the meantime, he wanted me to know that he had a great and happy life. He told me that he had always had me in his thoughts and prayers and that he respected the decision I had made 32 years ago and also understood how difficult it must've been for me. He thanked me again for the letter and the blog and said "Talk to you soon!!!" Yes, that's right folks, he used three, count them, three exclamation points after that! Amazing! My favorite part of the letter was this: "P.S. Please tell E_____ I said hello." Yes, he sent a little, personal hello to my daughter, his sister.<br />
<br />
I'm still in the middle of trying to process what this all means. I have asked my husband to make sure that I don't get myself all worked up into a tizzy of possibilities. I'm trying to take this as it comes and not try to project too far into the future. I'm hoping it will help me slow down and enjoy/savor every moment of this, at the same time reducing the amount of expectations I might inadvertently put on our relationship. That being said, a girl has to dream a little bit. I'm going to Chicago in August. He lives in Chicago. Just sayin'.<br />
<br />
Now, back to reality. I'm waiting for his letter, which will arrive when it arrives. I feel a great sense of calm about this. I feel like a huge burden has been lifted off of me. I told my husband that it will be interesting to see what it is like to live without the burden of the loss of him in my life on a daily basis. I've never lived an adult moment of my life without it. I'm optimistic right now. I felt love in his message and he felt and acknowledged my love in the letter I sent and the blog I created. If that's all I end up getting, that is more than I ever hoped for.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2437853905127633013.post-21862354982047742532012-02-29T00:53:00.000-08:002012-02-29T00:53:58.467-08:00I Heard From him!!!!I can't believe it!! I heard from him and it was GREAT!!!! I'll explain more later as it is very late here, but I'm thrilled, beyond belief.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2437853905127633013.post-21506937524223427772012-02-22T00:49:00.000-08:002012-02-22T00:49:11.457-08:00So, I think I'm doneWell, it looks like I might have come to the end of my road here. I posted the blog for my son. I must admit, it's pretty cool. Letters from me, pictures of me, my parents, my brothers, my daughters, my niece and nephews. Quirky things about our family, like we are hairless Italians, we have odd shaped knees, we are a family of lots and lots of boys, etc. I don't know if I said the right things or enough things. I tried to heed all the wisdom and advice I've learned from this blogging community over the past year. Did my best, but probably made some mistakes. I sent him a message on Facebook with the blog address and...nothing. He hasn't even checked it. I'm sending him a card this weekend, just in case he hasn't gotten the messages on Facebook and then I have to let this go. I just can't live my life like this.<br />
<br />
I can't keep writing about the same nothingness over and over again. I'm stuck in a perpetual pity party and that is so NOT who I am. This doesn't mean that I'm closing the door on him, I'd never do that. It just means it's time for this to go back on that shelf it was on for a little over 30 years, the place where I could move forward in my life and give myself a break. <br />
<br />
Even though I might not be writing much, (unless some miracle happens) I'll still be reading and learning, maybe even commenting once in a while. Looks like I'll be coming to Chicago in August as well. Anyone up for a Second City show while we're there? I don't know about you, but I could use a good laugh these days.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2437853905127633013.post-73473168197113080102011-12-30T00:07:00.000-08:002011-12-30T00:07:50.920-08:00Digging my Way OutIt's been a year, well almost. Eleven months to be exact. I have to find a way to start digging myself out of this hole I'm in. This is not healthy for me. I've written his amom a letter. I think it's a good one. I'm almost done with the blog that I've been saying for months that I'm creating for him. The next steps will be the hardest. They could be the last steps I take on this journey for a very long time, or they could finally open a door. The former is scarier to me. Where do I go if/when this turns out to be a dead end road? The only choice left to me will be to erase him from my life for a while. Remove pictures of him from my computer, exercise self-discipline and stop checking his Facebook "just to see." I have to try to get back to that place I lived for so many years before I found out who he was, the place where he popped into my head every day, but I no longer cried, no longer felt pierced by the pain of it all. The place where I learned to live with it all. <br />
<br />
I still have a little hope left. I'm hoping that his amom responds to my letter, I hope she sees the gratitude I have for her offer of their information, the gratitude I have that my son looks happy and loved and that she is responsible for that. I hope that my son will get some of the things he needs from this blog. He'll see pictures of people he looks like, learn of his heritage, gain some medical information, maybe see some videos. Maybe this will peak his interest a little. If not, maybe it'll answer some questions for him without the pressure of having to meet me. I guess that's a gift I can give him.<br />
<br />
I think 2012 is going to be a pivotal year for me. I had a lot of crap that got cleared up in 2011. I still have some crap left to clear up, but overall I feel like there are a lot of monkeys off my back and I'm ready to move forward and start enjoying life again. It's a choice you make, you know. Positive, negative. Half full, half empty. Hope, no hope. Push through or quit. I'm pushing through this to find a good place for myself again. Hopefully I won't be at the end of this alone.<br />
<br />
Happy New Year to you all and may 2012 bring you peace, joy and fulfillment.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2437853905127633013.post-65543731440608924692011-12-29T23:27:00.000-08:002011-12-29T23:27:50.333-08:00Make You Feel My Love<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px;"></span><br />
<div id="watch-description-text" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-size: 1.09em; line-height: 1.4; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/LZXjqwOxH4g?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div id="eow-description" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-size: 13px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><br />
</div></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">This song just speaks to me. Actually, it makes me weep sometimes. It just seems to express what a mother will do for her child. The two most relevant verses for me are in purple. Enjoy.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span><br />
Adele - Make You Feel My Love</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px;"><div style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-size: 1.09em; line-height: 1.4; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><div id="eow-description" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; color: #333333; font-size: 13px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div id="eow-description" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-size: 13px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;">When the rain is blowing in your face,</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;">and the whole world is on your case,</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;">I could offer you a warm embrace</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;">to make you feel my love.</span><br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;">When the evening shadows and the stars appear,</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;">and there is no one there to dry your tears,</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;">I could hold you for a million years</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;">to make you feel my love.</span><br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple;">I know you haven't made your mind up yet,<br />
but I would never do you wrong.<br />
I've known it from the moment that we met,<br />
no doubt in my mind where you belong.</span><br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;">I'd go hungry; I'd go black and blue,</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;">I'd go crawling down the avenue.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;">No, there's nothing that I wouldn't do</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;">to make you feel my love.</span><br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple;">The storms are raging on the rolling sea<br />
and on the highway of regret.<br />
Though winds of change are throwing wild and free,<br />
you ain't seen nothing like me yet.</span><br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;">I could make you happy, make your dreams come true.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;">Nothing that I wouldn't do.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;">Go to the ends of the Earth for you,</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;">to make you feel my love</span></div><div style="color: #333333;"><br />
</div></div><div id="watch-description-extras" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; color: #333333; font-size: 12px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"></div></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2437853905127633013.post-91429667451651164862011-12-23T23:00:00.000-08:002011-12-23T23:00:00.982-08:00This is gonna be uglyOkay, it's the holidays. I own a retail store in a small town in the worst economy in 80 years. I'm stressed out, and exhausted doesn't even begin to describe how tired I am. I haven't had a day off for three weeks and I'm tired of hearing about all the crap people are willing to put up with at the malls just to get a "good deal" and all the excuses they give for not shopping in their locally owned stores. I need a very long vent just on this issue alone, but this blog is about adoption. <br />
<br />
I want to remind everyone to count their blessings at this time of year. There are those of us who have nothing in the reunion area. If you have contact and it's not what you hoped for, or it's painful and difficult to manage, be grateful for the little that you have. At this point all I can hope for is that the "fuck you" that might come from my son is handwritten so I can at least see his handwriting, so I can have some part of him that is personal. None of this is good, none of us get what we want here. It's the nature of the beast, isn't it? On that note...something has got to be better than nothing.<br />
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That being said, I sincerely hope that you have a great holiday season. I am grateful to have read your blogs and your advice on mine. I, daily, learn an immense amount from all of you. I have eight more work days left in this year, after which I will be taking four full days to sleep. I will awaken on Jan.5th, 2012 with bag-free eyes and a clear ( although menopause fogged) brain, ready to face the world again.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2437853905127633013.post-2294003929253137262011-12-09T10:25:00.000-08:002011-12-09T10:25:39.042-08:00Coming outI think we should have a National First Mom Coming Out Day. All this hiding, lying, covering up is damaging everyone. It has left us, as first mothers, ashamed, grief stricken, defensive and damaged. It is unfair to our relinquished children. In some cases we have rejected them to protect ourselves. It must feel like we are throwing them under the bus again and again, for what? <br />
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What are we so afraid of? We've already lost the most important, most painful part of us, our children. Are we afraid of the judgement of others? The rejection of others? That we'll lose the love and respect of our friends? Family? My friends know all about my son and do their best to understand my loss. Although through this process they have been concerned about my emotional health, and have asked some very difficult questions, they have never once turned their back on me. Those are true friends. The people in my life that may not be able to handle my truth around all of this, are not people that should be in my life in the first place.<br />
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From now on, when people ask me how many children I have, I will answer three, a son who is 32, a step daughter who is 27 and a daughter who is 15. That is my truth, and I will hide from it no longer. I will find the courage to tell my family how the "shame" of this has made me feel over the last 32 years, and the moment I get his permission, I will post all over the world a picture of my son and proudly proclaim him as part of me. Any one care to join me?Unknownnoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2437853905127633013.post-5339664044690280342011-11-11T23:58:00.000-08:002011-11-11T23:58:55.687-08:00Close, But No CigarSeveral times a week, I go to my son's Facebook page and check in (as much as possible) with what is happening in his life. Okay, I know this might seem stalker like, but I just can't help myself. I desperately want to know him, I'm not a psychopath and I won't cause him harm with the things I learn on there, but I am driven to know. <br />
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We now have three friends that have friends in common. Tonight I saw a woman on his page that is friends with someone I have known for about 30 years. Two of my friends from high school have friends of his on their pages. I'm dying to call one of them and query after these friends that know my son. Please can you ask your friend about him? How do they know him? What is he like? Does he talk about adoption? About me? Is he okay?<br />
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If you met me in real life, I'm not a desperate person. I'm not this weak. I'm not outwardly this heartbroken. I don't know how to fix this. I don't know why my friends have connections to him, but I can't. I am lost.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2437853905127633013.post-21837610993253596012011-11-11T01:20:00.000-08:002011-11-11T01:20:30.590-08:00HIs FatherAbout a year after I had my son, I was riding the el in Chicago, on my way home from somewhere. As I was getting on the train, I looked down the aisle of seats and saw D, my son's first father. He and I had never spoken after my son was born. I had always wanted to, but never had the nerve to pick up the phone and call him. As I started to walk over to him, he glared at me, switched seats with his friend (so he could sit next to the window) and deliberately turned his back on me. Can't say I blamed him, after how he had been treated, but it completely threw me for a loop. I started shaking all over, somehow managed to get off at the next stop before I burst into hysterical sobs. Not sure how long it took me to get home that night but suffice it to say that D and I never spoke again.<br />
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In late spring of 2010, I was having a searching moment (I had those periodically every year!) and decided to google D's name. Low and behold, I came up with his mailing address. I thought maybe it was time to send that apology that I'd wanted to give so long ago. I composed a letter saying how sorry I was that he was so left out of the decision making in 1979. Sorry that he had to hear about his son from my scary, strict Italian father. I told him I was searching for our son and wanted to know if he would like me to share his information with him if I found him. I told him that he hadn't had a choice so long ago and that I wanted to offer him the choice this time around. I gave him my phone number and email and asked him to contact me when he was comfortable. <br />
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About three weeks later, I received an email from him asking to have a phone conversation with me. We set a date and time and I prepared myself for the verbal apology I wanted to give as well as the inevitable tongue lashing that I was sure was coming my way. We got on the phone and after a few nervous moments, he said, "Well, should we make more small talk or should we get to the elephant in the room?" Being all about that elephant I chose to cut to the heart of the matter. I said my apology for how he had been treated, which he accepted. Then he said, "You know we did the right thing, don't you?" <br />
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Hold the presses!! Did you really just say that to me? First of all WE didn't do anything. YOU weren't there remember? Okay, admittedly that wasn't entirely his fault, but still. Second of all, how can you think all of this grief, not raising our son and him not knowing his parents was best for any of us? Then I realized, his journey in all of this was completely different than mine. He didn't have all the emotional baggage around this that I did. He never saw our son, never felt him kick in my belly, never got that attachment to him as a living, breathing human being, like I did. He asked me why I was searching now, what was special about this time? I told him I had hoped since the day we signed the papers that I would find him and that I had been actively searching since the day our son had turned eighteen. I realized then as well, that this was not the everyday heartache for him that it was for me. <br />
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Unfortunately, D didn't want to talk about the emotions related to the "past." I was disappointed about that, I think I really needed him to tell me how he felt about it all, now and then. I needed his honesty to help me heal. I still feel like there is an elephant in the room between us. Before we hung up, D said he's happy to do whatever our son wants. If he wants to meet D or email or talk on the phone, D's fine with that. If he doesn't want contact that's okay too. Then he asked me why I thought our son wanted to be found, after all he has our names, they're on his birth certificate. Crap. I had to explain to him about adoption and amended birth certificates and how we were basically erased from our son's life, that there was no way for him to find out info on us. <br />
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I talked to D on a Friday night, on Sunday I got the email with my son's name and some contact info. I still have not told D that I have found our son. I guess was hoping to talk to our son before letting D know. My guilt was running the show, and I wanted our son to hear why his father wasn't there for him (or me) from me. I pushed D out of the situation. His lack of commitment and involvement was my choice, I wanted to be the one to tell my son that. Since I haven't had a response for a very long time, I think it's time to tell D about my discovery. To be honest, I'm not sure how interested he is. I've never received any communication from him asking if I've found anything. I could probably get away with not telling him, but that just seems dishonest to me. I've been holding out long enough, time to at least send him the first picture I found of our son online. Yet another layer of adoption crap to deal with.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2437853905127633013.post-81169974892163025812011-11-09T00:29:00.000-08:002011-11-09T00:29:45.956-08:00TiredI have a couple of posts I'm working on, but I'm too tired to finish any of them tonight. I thought I'd just post this:<br />
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I hope that wherever my son was today, that he a great day.<br />
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I hope that he had time to enjoy watching the Bears beat the Eagles on Monday night.<br />
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I hope that he's thought of me once or twice over the last several months.<br />
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I hope he's happy.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2437853905127633013.post-2947134444757768302011-11-07T09:02:00.000-08:002011-11-07T09:02:31.820-08:00Self ForgivenessLast night I watched two programs on television that had to do with our soldiers who are bravely fighting our wars overseas and the very serious PTSD that many of them are suffering from when they get home. As I watched these men describe the issues they were facing, a consistent theme started occurring to me. Self forgiveness. The heart of the matter for most of these men was that they have not been able to forgive themselves either for doing things that they were ordered to do, but went against their moral or human grain, or for not being able to save someone, or in the case of a medic, many people.<br />
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As Oprah would say, I had an AHA! moment. I realized just how difficult forgiving yourself for something you feel deeply in your soul was wrong for you to do, is. How a person can become stuck in their guilt. How it can affect how you view yourself, your world, the people you love and how it can completely destroy your self worth.<br />
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I'm not convinced that self forgiveness can be fully achieved. I think that by speaking about the ideas in our heads that we feel are the worst of the worst, the things so bad that if people knew about them they would surely hate us or worse, by speaking of those things to someone, anyone, we free ourselves to go on with life, to grow, move forward and start to heal. I don't think that that means that we forgive ourselves fully. I think that complete self forgiveness requires accepting that you did the best that you could at the time, you did all that you were capable of for what you had control over. Therein lies the problem. For those of us that struggle with self forgiveness, there is always a part of us that knows we could've done better, there had to have been something else we could've done, something we just didn't see at the time. That's the part that will never go away. If you can get to the point where you can accept that you did the best you could at the time, and there is nothing you can do to change the past now, you have to learn to live with the "what if's?". I think for most of us, that is the most healing we're going to get.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2437853905127633013.post-8642740639873284342011-11-06T01:27:00.000-07:002011-11-06T01:27:59.648-07:00It's Those Little Quirky ThingsYou know those quirky little things that pop up in life. Sometimes your reaction is, "Wow! Cool! How exciting!" Sometimes your reaction is "You're kidding, right?!" This is one of those you're kidding, right? moments. It's a minor thing, as many quirky little things are, but still...<br />
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I have a Mac. Love it. Everyday when I go online, the Apple website is my homepage. For the last month (or few weeks at least) there's been an ad for the new iPhone 4s. On the white phone, which is the one in the center, is shows a reminder something along the lines of Remind me on May 19 it is dad's birthday. Here's the quirky little thing, May 19th is my son's birthday! Everyday, several times a day, I see that and think "Really? You had to pick that date? You couldn't have chosen May 5th, May 12th, May 26th? How about November 2nd? My birthday would be easier to see than that!" Jeez! What is the universe trying to tell me?Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2437853905127633013.post-48224547824467107712011-11-04T23:14:00.000-07:002011-11-04T23:14:34.451-07:00I wish<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I wish I was in a place in my reunion where I could write about how I feel about adoption politically. I want to write about how infuriated I am that adoptees can't have their OBC's and I want to write about how shocked I am that people completely unassociated with adoption have no idea that altered birth certificates exist. I want to write about how many children are stuck in foster care, children who desperately need and want homes and yet they are ignored because it is too much work for families to adopt them. I want to write about how adoption should be solely for those children who have no options, who are abandoned, abused, discarded; how we as adults should be brave enough to step up to the plate and bring them into our families and love them, nurture them. I want to write about how wrong I think it is that adoption has become about what is the best way to heal infertile parents instead of what is the best way to heal emotionally injured children. I want to write about all these things, but I can't. Not yet. I can't seem to get past all my pain yet. I still need this blog to help me heal. I can't seem to write about others until I can see light at the end of my own tunnel. I wish it was different, but it's not.</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2437853905127633013.post-89557947203837086752011-11-03T08:40:00.000-07:002011-11-04T23:46:58.483-07:00I want my baby<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I read a post on <a href="http://adoptiontruth-casjoh.blogspot.com/2011/10/tricks-without-treats.html" target="_blank">Adoption Truth</a> (the post is Tricks Without Treats if the link doesn't work) that reminded me of something. My kept daughter (can I just say how much I hate having to differentiate between my two children like that?) was born nine weeks early, weighed 2 lbs. 15 oz. when she was born. I was really sick when I had her. I didn't get to see her for almost 48 hours after she was born. I was kept in a room with no lights, no music, no tv, no phone, no stimulation until they could stabilize me. The first time I saw my daughter was at midnight, two days after she was born. They wheeled me in on a gurney and I saw my beautiful, half- baked daughter, tinier than anything you can imagine. She was beautiful. I had toxemia, and all things considered, we were very, very lucky. Here's the thing though, the whole time I was in the hospital (five days on the mag bag with no stimulation allowed, around the clock cbc's , constant blood pressure monitoring and way too many ultrasounds) I kept thinking the worst. Something horrible is going to happen to this baby because I gave away my son. This is what I deserve. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Isn't that awful?!! Yeah, I know, it's ridiculous. But I always felt that I was being punished for the choice I had made so long ago. What better way to punish me than to hurt the thing I loved most in the world, again. Twice in my life I've had children and twice I've left the hospital without them. My daughter stayed in the NICU for six weeks after she was born. I was there every day, twice a day for hours. I got released from the hospital about a week after she was born. I remember standing at the kitchen sink washing dishes and just starting to sob hysterically. My parents were out from Chicago to help us manage and my father asked me "What's wrong with you?" I sobbed/screamed "I just want my baby!" Boy, if that wasn't history repeating itself!</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">What Cassi wrote about the other day regarding her granddaughter's attachment to her mom while in the NICU struck a huge chord with me. Everything you are taught in the NICU is the polar opposite of what you are told in adoption. In the NICU they stress the importance of the mother/child bond. So much so, that there is something called kangarooing where you put your preemie child against your bare chest and cuddle them, so they can feel your heart beat and smell your scent, which helps their physical and emotional development. Hmmmm.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">In adoption, you are told that the best thing for your child is to give them to someone else, who is better able to care for them. Oddly, I was encouraged to visit my child, hold my child. I was also asked to carry my child downstairs and hand him over to the new parents attorney. I could do none of these things. I had already instantly bonded with my son when he was born. The first time I held him, I went from scared teenager, to mother. I knew that if I saw him again, or held him, I would never be able to do what was "right" for him. I would never be able to walk away and give him a "better" life. I certainly was not going to hand him over to someone else to take home. I guess the big disconnect for me then, was that nobody would really acknowledge that I was his mother. Everyone danced around it. I was his mother, but I wasn't considered capable of being his mother. Hold him, but make sure you hand him over to people who are older, more capable, better than you, to raise him. Hold him because that is what is best for him, then break your heart and hand him over because that is what is best for him.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I guess the glaring difference from the NICU and adoption, is the long term bond that is allowed to be formed. In the NICU, the goal is that you are prepared to take an incredibly small, somewhat fragile child home and that you are fully bonded and empowered to care for that child. In adoption, you are asked to do what is "best" for your child. Hold him, bond with him, because that is what is best for him and at the same time prepare him to go home with someone who is better than you are to raise him. How can both of these theories be correct? You are the most important person in his life, you must be fully prepared to care for him and you are the least important person in his life and you must prepare him to be raised by someone else. How can you expect mothers to do this and not acknowledge their immense grief? How can you ask a new mother to develop that bond, only to have it broken a few hours or days later and not expect it to deeply affect both mother and child? Maybe it's because in the NICU, the mother isn't dispensable. In adoption, we are temporary, disposable, only there for the birth and then shoved aside and erased for eternity. A bookmark until the "real" parents show up. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">By the time my daughter left the NICU, I could change a diaper the size of a cocktail napkin on a baby covered in wires. I could burp a baby that was so small that my hand covered most of her body. I held a baby so small that her hand could not wrap around your pinky finger, and I gave a bath to a baby that fit in the small little bin they put by the side of your bed in case you throw up. I was a well prepared, empowered mother. If they had done all those things for me when my son was born, he would have come home with me. That is the difference between the NICU and adoption.</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2437853905127633013.post-30720529411658439762011-11-02T09:13:00.000-07:002011-11-02T09:13:10.458-07:00I Wonder What He ThinksI wonder sometimes, what my son thinks about adoption. Is he someone who was greatly affected by it? Is he someone that has connected the dots of his life and have some of those dots led him back to me? Is there anger or pain there? Is there curiosity? What about denial? Is he someone who will deny that adoption has caused issues in his life? Is he a "happy" adoptee? Has he ever tried to get his OBC and is he frustrated in not being able to? Will he be one of the adoptees trying to get his OBC on Nov. 15th in Illinois?<br />
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I hope one day to find all these things out. For today, I'm just wondering.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2437853905127633013.post-65727367108153423582011-10-31T23:22:00.000-07:002011-10-31T23:22:23.755-07:00Bringing out the Snarky in MeI saw this <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/Keep-Adoption-Records-Closed/120136288000905?sk=wall">link</a> on the Adoption News and Events page that I follow on Facebook. What is it they say about not learning from the past and having history repeat itself? Here are a few "facts" from their Info page:<br />
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Advantages to Closed Adoption:<br />
-<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">sense of closure and privacy for birth parents: </span>Wow, not knowing where my child was, what his name was, how he was, etc. created a real sense of closure for me over the last 32 years. And I'm oh so happy that he couldn't find me EVER, not to mention medical facts about himself because of those privacy protecting closed records.<br />
-<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">reduced fear of having to explain reasons and prevent confrontation:</span> God forbid anyone should have to explain adoption to their adopted child and even scarier, to have to confront, I don't know, anger? confusion? fear? from their adopted child.<br />
-<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">protection and less threat to adoptive parents:</span> That's right, better protect yourselves from those hatchet waving, crazed, grief stricken birth parents who I'm sure are going to call you every chance they get and threaten you.<br />
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Why Keep Record Closed:<br />
-<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">opening records causes more birth parents to debate if adoption is the right decision. </span>Well, that is definitely a no, no. Wouldn't want birth parents thinking too hard about this. They might actually *gasp* decide that raising their babies is the best thing.<br />
-<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">invades personal privacy that birth parents were promised: </span>Hellooo??? How many times do we have to say this? We were never promised privacy!! This is a myth of, oh, I don't know, mythical proportions? Not only were we not promised it, most of us don't want it. Personally, nothing pisses me off more than someone using me as a poster child for something I DON'T WANT!<br />
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There are more beautiful tidbits on their page, but nausea has taken over, and I feel a threatening rant coming on that I might have to explain to someone.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2437853905127633013.post-806952902564525502011-10-27T08:47:00.000-07:002011-10-27T08:47:37.741-07:00What a Difference a Day MakesWell, I meant to post this the day after my last post, which was a bit of a much needed pity party for myself. When I was dancing professionally, I had a rule for myself. I gave myself one day of pity partying after an audition if I didn't get the role I wanted. I would skip ballet class, eat mac and cheese and ice cream, cry, watch stupid tv, sleep and basically give myself permission to mope. Usually, towards the end of the day, I would start to ponder what went wrong at the audition, things I did well, things I could've done better, why they may not have cast me, etc. Next morning I was (usually) ready to hit it again and was regrouped.<br />
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Same thing happened here. I was really low the other day, not sure exactly why it came on when it did. Towards the end of the day I started taking advice that I'd heard on here (thank you!) and started configuring a plan of sorts. I'm a planner. I can go with the flow as long as there is a general plan in place to keep me focused. (Actually, now that I think about it, maybe that's why I got so blue. My original plan wasn't working anymore, time to come up with a new one!) <br />
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So, I'm going back to the private blog for him and I to share. I'm going to create pages for photos and info on family members, a page for medical info, and a page for my thoughts. I mentioned doing this before, but was really having a hard time coming up with the "right" opening post. I've finally realized that there are no "right" things to say if they don't include my truths around this. Dancing around issues and trying to phrase them in a way that's pc is not my style, so what I was writing just felt contrived and fake.<br />
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I've finally come up with a letter that I'm happy with. It speaks to my hopes for him that he's had a great life, but it also addresses my feelings around not having raised him. I addressed the fact that not having raised him made our lives different than what they would've been. No way to know now if it was better or worse, just different than they would have been together. It made me feel good to say that to him. It's my truth around this. I've come to accept that I can only control what I do, not how he reacts. If I have any hope of a relationship with him, acting and speaking in an honest manner has to be where it starts. It's better for him to understand that about me from the beginning. Maybe it'll help him be honest with me as well, even if it's what I consider to be "bad news."Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2437853905127633013.post-19927728476356896332011-10-18T08:32:00.000-07:002011-10-18T08:32:52.845-07:00Feeling like nothingI've been absent from blogging for about a month. Part of it was that I was just really busy with life. The other part is that I'm just depressed and distressed over the lack of communication from my son. The complete lack of response from him in more than nine months is leaving me feeling like a big fat nothing. Non existent in his life, which is the reality he seems to want to stick to. I've seen pictures of him on the internet. He looks happy and healthy. That's what he's supposed to be, right? I gave up my rights to enjoy that with him, right? From everyone else's perspective this has all worked out as planned, right? <br />
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Thirty two years later and I'm still shedding tears over this. Is there going to be a time that I will feel like I'm not going to be punished for this decision forever? Is there going to be a time when my friends and family will truly understand what this feels like? When my husband doesn't look at me like I'm turning into a scary stalker instead of a mother desperate for information about her son? Will I ever get to see my two children meet and maybe share a laugh together? <br />
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I know in the past I've said we could take it on his terms. It would be helpful if he would tell me what they are. As you might be able to tell from this post, I vacillate between being sad and weepy over this and actually becoming quite a bit pissed off about it as well. This leaving me hanging thing has gotten really old. If you don't want me around, tell me to fuck off. Trust me, there are days (many of them lately) that feeling shattered would feel better than feeling this vulnerable. <br />
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Don't get me wrong, I'm glad that he's healthy and happy. I'm just ready to stop feeling so insignificant. I mean really, I even enclosed a SASE for him to send back the letter if it wasn't him, or if he didn't want contact. He doesn't even have to walk to the mailbox! He can hand it to the doorman on his way to work and it'll get mailed. <br />
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Some people may think I deserve this because of the decision I made not to raise him. I don't. I deserve at least an answer, even if it's "i'm not sure" or "you're the last person I want to know." Being rejected at this point would be easier. At least I'd be worthy of something. At this point, I'm just a big fat nothing, not even worthy of rejection. Sucks.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2437853905127633013.post-29149711455813019132011-10-17T16:13:00.000-07:002011-10-17T16:13:52.434-07:00Ah, adoption life!I've been absent from here for a while. I'll get to that soon. Just wanted to share an experience that happened last week.<br />
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I was standing in my store, my daughter and her best friend had just arrived from school. An older woman (I'm guessing mid-sixties) came in asking me if I sold postcards. I have a boutique for women, clothing, accessories and shoes, not a postcard in sight. We live in a lovely small town outside San Francisco, on the water. Should be a big tourist town, but it's the best kept secret in the Bay Area. You would think there would be postcards all over the place, but there aren't. <br />
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Sometimes I feel a little like a bartender. People come in my store and and out of the blue start to tell me details of their lives. This woman tells me that she was really sick last year and that her brother is waiting in the car for her. This is significant because it's only the second time she's ever met her brother. You see, her mother had given her brother up for adoption when he was born. Really?! I look at my daughter and just smile. I tell the woman that I hope she enjoys her visit with her brother and hope that she finds those postcards she's looking for.<br />
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When she leaves I look at my daughter and say "I really hope you're not that old when you get to meet your brother." "Mom, when I'm that old he's going to be like 80." "Yep", I answer, "and I'm going to be long gone." Really hope she gets to meet him before I'm 80.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2437853905127633013.post-47584309022952301472011-09-18T01:01:00.000-07:002011-09-18T01:01:34.298-07:00So Confused<div>Tonight, I read a friend the letter that I sent to my son eight months ago, expecting to get a great response from her regarding how eloquent, mature and controlled I was. I expected her to praise me for containing my emotions and telling my son that he was loved and that I always wanted what was best for him yada, yada, yada. Instead, I got a reaction from her that completely threw me for a loop. I was chastised for being unfeeling and too mature and strong. She told me that I needed to share my seventeen year old self with my son first, let him share the vulnerability and insecurity that I felt when he was born. Help him understand the circumstances of why I couldn't keep him, so he could have compassion for me, so he can understand why. She told me that I needed to share how I really felt as a scared seventeen year old with no job and no support and no options. UGH! I'm so confused, I can't even write this freakin' post!</div><div><br />
</div><div>What exactly do you say the first time you reach out to someone whose life you unalterably changed? Do I slit myself open for him? It's not something I'm opposed to doing, I've been slit open for years. I'm just not sure it's the place to start. What the hell am I supposed to say to him to get him to listen, to catch his attention, to help him hear me? Which layer do I choose to peel back first? Do I really say to him, before I've ever met him, that I did everything wrong thinking that I was doing the best for him? Do I admit to him that I still feel, at the age of almost fifty, that I was too incompetent at the time to raise him? Do I admit that I devalued my love so much that it made me feel I wasn't worthy of raising him? Do I really say this...?</div><div><br />
</div><div>Here's what I really want to say. There hasn't been a day in 32 years that I haven't thought of you. There hasn't been a moment that I haven't wished I could hug you, touch you, kiss you, mother you. There have been very few moments that I haven't regretted my decision. There is nothing I wouldn't do to change this/make this up to you. Giving you away completely changed my life in a negative way, changed how I felt about myself and the people who I thought loved me, made me feel undeserving of anything good that life had to offer. I can't change this, I can't fix this, I can't make any of this better. I love you, that part is simple and true. </div><div><br />
</div><div>I don't know how to have this conversation. It seems many of us don't know how to have this conversation. Can we as first moms and adult adoptees find a way to guide each other down the yellow brick road? Is there an adoption Oz that can give us a heart to feel love, the courage to express love and a feeling of home with two families?</div><div><br />
</div><div>Help me, I'm so confused.</div><div><br />
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</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3