38 weeks. No baby. Going to resist the urge to complain about late pregnancy in late July...
So, on to something totally unrelated, but that I've thought many times when coming to my little blog. I LOVE the posts by other moms with young children along the lines of "we've been too busy for me to update..." I love reading that people are enjoying their lives/children so much that the blog has collected some dust. It's happened here more than a few times, and it's just life. It's awesome.
Another totally unrelated topic? Today is the annual FIA picnic. It's the first time I haven't been there since 1998!!! I was going to try to make it, but regular daily life is difficult right now, and I made the decision to stay put. I'm really missing my first born, but I think we'll have a visit soon after this little one is born.
So, I think I'll go reminisce...
Showing posts with label Colin. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Colin. Show all posts
Saturday, July 16, 2011
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
RI May Unseal Records
Apparently the RI state legislature has, in the past, voted on bills to give adult adoptees access to their sealed records. According to the P.rovidence J.ournal, the bills pass the House, but not the Senate. Currently there is a possible compromise in the works that may pass both chambers, and allow adult adoptees over the age of 30 to obtain their records.
Hmm.
First of all, as a member of an open adoption triad, I am obviously in favor of the free flow of information, especially for the adoptee. I do recognize, however, that the level of openness my adoption family has been able to achieve is not always possible. I understand the many valid reasons why some adoptions are closed, or at least not fully open. I'm not sure if those circumstances extend to the adoptee's right to know their info as an adult. What I mean is, I get why some birthfamilies can't have visits with the adoptee; but what does that have to do with the adoptee just plain KNOWING their own info once they are grown?
The opponents of unsealing the records all claim to be advocating for birthmoms' privacy rights. I was pretty shocked to read this. Again, mine has always been an open adoption, but I can promise you, no one seemed concerned with my privacy post placement, or even brought the subject up when I was pregnant, before the openness had begun. The whole argument of someone worrying about my privacy 18 years post placement makes me laugh out loud. This argument is a big giant PC bullshit argument.
So what is the real reason some people want to deny adoptees access to their information? I saw one tiny little quote that mentioned adoptive parents' privacy and feelings, and I think this is where the truth is: not to sound harsh, but adoptive parents do seem to sometimes be the most considered, the most protected members of the triad. (APs, call me out on this one if I'm wrong.)
One comment really burned me up. A member of the assembly spoke in reference to the age at which adoptees deserve to know their info: "I think 18 is too young. It's a tender age. I want them to be able to find their records in an appropriate and meaningful way, not because they want to get back at their adoptive parents." Um, huh? Wha? Well, thank you, Mr. Member, but it's not up to you to decide why an adoptee wants their info, or what kind of experience it will be. Talk about controlling! The issue is centered around their rights, not their feelings, or their parents' feelings, or whether or not it is "meaningful".
Another very bizarre quote was in reference to birthmoms. One lawyer said, "The parent that gives up her rights, they're in a sense making a contract with someone. That contract is essentially: I am going to give you an opportunity for another life, but I am going to back away from your life. And that's the last thing I'm doing for you or with you." Wow, that's not what I said to Colin, thankfully. I am kind of a naive type of person, and this kind of jibberish blows my mind. I really thought we were past this kind of old school thinking. Also, even if that quote were universally true, what in the world does it have to do with the adoptee getting to see their records 18 years later?! I really, truly do not understand.
To me, it's a no brainer. The info is theirs. Apparently many many people are threatened by the possiblity that they get to see it.
Adoptees had the least amount of control at the time of placement. When Colin was a newborn, it blew my mind that we were all setting a course for his life and he was unable to give us his input. (I know this is true for all newborns, adopted or not, but it feels especially heavy in adoptions.) How can people justify continuing to have control over them in this way?
Hmm.
First of all, as a member of an open adoption triad, I am obviously in favor of the free flow of information, especially for the adoptee. I do recognize, however, that the level of openness my adoption family has been able to achieve is not always possible. I understand the many valid reasons why some adoptions are closed, or at least not fully open. I'm not sure if those circumstances extend to the adoptee's right to know their info as an adult. What I mean is, I get why some birthfamilies can't have visits with the adoptee; but what does that have to do with the adoptee just plain KNOWING their own info once they are grown?
The opponents of unsealing the records all claim to be advocating for birthmoms' privacy rights. I was pretty shocked to read this. Again, mine has always been an open adoption, but I can promise you, no one seemed concerned with my privacy post placement, or even brought the subject up when I was pregnant, before the openness had begun. The whole argument of someone worrying about my privacy 18 years post placement makes me laugh out loud. This argument is a big giant PC bullshit argument.
So what is the real reason some people want to deny adoptees access to their information? I saw one tiny little quote that mentioned adoptive parents' privacy and feelings, and I think this is where the truth is: not to sound harsh, but adoptive parents do seem to sometimes be the most considered, the most protected members of the triad. (APs, call me out on this one if I'm wrong.)
One comment really burned me up. A member of the assembly spoke in reference to the age at which adoptees deserve to know their info: "I think 18 is too young. It's a tender age. I want them to be able to find their records in an appropriate and meaningful way, not because they want to get back at their adoptive parents." Um, huh? Wha? Well, thank you, Mr. Member, but it's not up to you to decide why an adoptee wants their info, or what kind of experience it will be. Talk about controlling! The issue is centered around their rights, not their feelings, or their parents' feelings, or whether or not it is "meaningful".
Another very bizarre quote was in reference to birthmoms. One lawyer said, "The parent that gives up her rights, they're in a sense making a contract with someone. That contract is essentially: I am going to give you an opportunity for another life, but I am going to back away from your life. And that's the last thing I'm doing for you or with you." Wow, that's not what I said to Colin, thankfully. I am kind of a naive type of person, and this kind of jibberish blows my mind. I really thought we were past this kind of old school thinking. Also, even if that quote were universally true, what in the world does it have to do with the adoptee getting to see their records 18 years later?! I really, truly do not understand.
To me, it's a no brainer. The info is theirs. Apparently many many people are threatened by the possiblity that they get to see it.
Adoptees had the least amount of control at the time of placement. When Colin was a newborn, it blew my mind that we were all setting a course for his life and he was unable to give us his input. (I know this is true for all newborns, adopted or not, but it feels especially heavy in adoptions.) How can people justify continuing to have control over them in this way?
Saturday, May 14, 2011
FiveOneFour
It's 514!! My first born turns 13 today. He's a TEENAGER. Holy smokes.
Jeb picked out a Batman card for him. I talked to him on the phone for a while. Regular stuff.
I worked last night, so I got to look at the clock at 0159, the time he was born. It was very cool. I smiled to myself and remembered, and didn't feel the agony that this day used to bring me.
I'm so happy he's him; that he was born 13 years ago. I'm so happy for all the work we've done. I'm so happy to be happy this fivefourteen, and not sobbing on the floor. I'm so happy to be in a place of true celebration this birthday. It's like Grief is across the room at the party, and I gave him a wink, and then got back to smiling and chatting.
Happy Birthday, my boy, I love you so freaking much.
Jeb picked out a Batman card for him. I talked to him on the phone for a while. Regular stuff.
I worked last night, so I got to look at the clock at 0159, the time he was born. It was very cool. I smiled to myself and remembered, and didn't feel the agony that this day used to bring me.
I'm so happy he's him; that he was born 13 years ago. I'm so happy for all the work we've done. I'm so happy to be happy this fivefourteen, and not sobbing on the floor. I'm so happy to be in a place of true celebration this birthday. It's like Grief is across the room at the party, and I gave him a wink, and then got back to smiling and chatting.
Happy Birthday, my boy, I love you so freaking much.
Saturday, May 7, 2011
Gah, 4 months.
First, I wasn't sure how to write about pregnancy stuff without being one of those "X weeks!!! Baby is a carrot!! I don't miss ANYTHING because I am so perfectly pregnant!!!" types. Which I'm not. But anyway.
Then, the pregnancy kicked my butt up and down the block at the same time that we had the snowiest winter EVER and husband was NEVER home and Jeb was (is) in the HORRIBLE THREE's and and and....
And then it had been so long that I didn't know exactly how to come back, but I so wanted to, and promised every week --- I will write a post no MATTER WHAT this week... but that was somewhere around late March....
And now it's early May (Birthmother's Day!), and I'm in my third trimester, and I want to be back.
There are so many things I want/have wanted to write about. How physically hard but emotionally wonderful this pregnancy has been compared to my others. How this baby fits into the "adoption" part of my brain, since I'm already parenting. Colin is becoming a teenager next week-- hello! -- and my thoughts as he approaches the age I was when I got pregnant. You know, run of the mill kind of stuff that makes you start a blog ;)
First, I wasn't sure how to write about pregnancy stuff without being one of those "X weeks!!! Baby is a carrot!! I don't miss ANYTHING because I am so perfectly pregnant!!!" types. Which I'm not. But anyway.
Then, the pregnancy kicked my butt up and down the block at the same time that we had the snowiest winter EVER and husband was NEVER home and Jeb was (is) in the HORRIBLE THREE's and and and....
And then it had been so long that I didn't know exactly how to come back, but I so wanted to, and promised every week --- I will write a post no MATTER WHAT this week... but that was somewhere around late March....
And now it's early May (Birthmother's Day!), and I'm in my third trimester, and I want to be back.
There are so many things I want/have wanted to write about. How physically hard but emotionally wonderful this pregnancy has been compared to my others. How this baby fits into the "adoption" part of my brain, since I'm already parenting. Colin is becoming a teenager next week-- hello! -- and my thoughts as he approaches the age I was when I got pregnant. You know, run of the mill kind of stuff that makes you start a blog ;)
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
Siblings.
When Colin was a toddler, his parents attended a workshop about how/when/why to adopt a second time. They shared with me afterward that they were surprised (and comforted) to get the advice: the question is not so much whether you want to adopt again, the question is whether you want more kids. I thought that was pretty neat, and a very tidy and academic way to simplify the whole thing. I liked it. I liked that it had a nice "normal" ring to it. (I had no real feeling on whether I wanted them to adopt again. I felt about it like I feel about my neighbor having more kids: it's their family, I'm sure they'll make the best decision for them. I didn't feel strongly one way or the other about C having siblings, if I had I probably would have placed him with a couple who was already parenting.) In the end, they chose not to pursue another adoption, and we all went about our business.
Fast forward almost a decade, and to Jeb and me playing in his room.
Jeb (handing me a small toy dump truck): Here, mama, this is for Jeb Baby. (he's convinced the baby's name will also be Jeb.)
Me: Oh, thank you! What a great big brother you are!
I went in the next room to put some clothes away, thinking about what a cool moment we'd just shared, and the Whether To Adopt Again Workshop experience came flooding back.
Whether or not you want to parent more children is SO NOT the only or biggest concern when you are thinking about another adoption. I know I've never been there, but I know how I feel about Jeb. And I know adoptive parents feel that same way about their children. And I know it would have been a much more involved decision between husband and me than just "let's go for it!" one night in November.
I know I wouldn't be talking to Jeb about a baby joining us in the Summer, even if we were matched.
I know I wouldn't be weaving the baby in and out of our play and chat, slowly getting Jeb used to the idea.
I might have to choose between giving Jeb lots of preparation to share his time and space with mommy and daddy, and protecting him from getting his hopes up.
I would have to think about whether I was willing to turn his world upside down on very short notice.
I know there are so many more heavy and complicated emotions I'd be having that I can't even fathom here.
Even if I were to lose the baby right now, that conversation with Jeb would be ten times easier than a conversation about a failed match. Life and death seem a lot easier to explain to a child than potential adoptions and last minute decisions to parent.
For a moment, I put myself in the position of having this desire to give Jeb a sibling, having the excitement of a possibility, and trying to exercise caution by holding that excitement back. What a wild place it was, even for a hypothetical moment. And even in a hypothetical place, I can't imagine what it feels like to put his emotions and hopes on the line, and possibly see them dashed. What a horrible experience that must be.
So, I know this is all terribly awkward, but it was such a powerful "a ha!" moment for me. One that brought me to my knees with gratitude.
I don't know what it's like to be an AP, but I'm pretty sure the decision to adopt again goes far beyond whether or not you simply want more children.
Fast forward almost a decade, and to Jeb and me playing in his room.
Jeb (handing me a small toy dump truck): Here, mama, this is for Jeb Baby. (he's convinced the baby's name will also be Jeb.)
Me: Oh, thank you! What a great big brother you are!
I went in the next room to put some clothes away, thinking about what a cool moment we'd just shared, and the Whether To Adopt Again Workshop experience came flooding back.
Whether or not you want to parent more children is SO NOT the only or biggest concern when you are thinking about another adoption. I know I've never been there, but I know how I feel about Jeb. And I know adoptive parents feel that same way about their children. And I know it would have been a much more involved decision between husband and me than just "let's go for it!" one night in November.
I know I wouldn't be talking to Jeb about a baby joining us in the Summer, even if we were matched.
I know I wouldn't be weaving the baby in and out of our play and chat, slowly getting Jeb used to the idea.
I might have to choose between giving Jeb lots of preparation to share his time and space with mommy and daddy, and protecting him from getting his hopes up.
I would have to think about whether I was willing to turn his world upside down on very short notice.
I know there are so many more heavy and complicated emotions I'd be having that I can't even fathom here.
Even if I were to lose the baby right now, that conversation with Jeb would be ten times easier than a conversation about a failed match. Life and death seem a lot easier to explain to a child than potential adoptions and last minute decisions to parent.
For a moment, I put myself in the position of having this desire to give Jeb a sibling, having the excitement of a possibility, and trying to exercise caution by holding that excitement back. What a wild place it was, even for a hypothetical moment. And even in a hypothetical place, I can't imagine what it feels like to put his emotions and hopes on the line, and possibly see them dashed. What a horrible experience that must be.
So, I know this is all terribly awkward, but it was such a powerful "a ha!" moment for me. One that brought me to my knees with gratitude.
I don't know what it's like to be an AP, but I'm pretty sure the decision to adopt again goes far beyond whether or not you simply want more children.
Monday, November 8, 2010
Pretty Boring
The boys are both asleep, and I should be too, but the quiet and stillness of the house is too much to resist.
So, I blog.
I'm closing in on 1 year of blogging (!), and I've so enjoyed looking back on my own "recordings". I love reading old posts, and remembering. I love that adoption issues are certainly present in my posts, but not dominant. I feel like I've integrated my experience as a birthmom into my life, and I think the blog definitely reflects that it is Just One Hat.
So, in that vein, here are some average, boring, glimpses into life this week:
Husband's business is doing well, but he is overwhelmed and stressed with figuring out the "plan" to execute the snow removal contracts he has for this winter. We had sleet/rain/snow/slush last night, which left him frantic today. It will all come together, but these are tough days for him. I try to be supportive and positive, but there is so much of the business I don't understand, so I wind up giving very cliche, very lame "advice". I couldn't be LESS stressed about it, because no matter what? It won't be as bad as last year, aka his FIRST year.
My job is lame. I don't hate it, because it's easy and at this point in my life I'm not looking for a challenge when it comes to my work. What I hate is the schedule. And I have a pretty decent schedule! I hate being stretched so thin. I hate taking anything away from my household. I sometimes joke to husband that gender equality is oppressive! I should really shut up, because my job has allowed us to start husband's business, and I'm lucky enough to have a job, BUT BUT BUT being a working mom is fucking hard.
Jeb is fantastic. He is doing exactly what an almost-3-year-old should be doing. He's wearing me the fuck out. He is calling my bluff right and left and it's both amazingly frustrating and amazingly hilarious. This age is more challenging than any, so far. I've had to be more firm with him than ever, and the phrase "pick your battles" has been whispered from my lips more than ever before. Most days he's in his jammies until 2pm because getting dressed is a complete THROW DOWN. Just like getting in his car seat. And out of his car seat. And eating lunch instead of Halloween candy. And going to bed. And coming up from the basement after we switch the laundry. And not coloring on the walls. And not jumping on my head. Or dumping a bowl of scrambled eggs on the carpet. And NOT playing with my phone, or daddy's phone, or the computer, or a sharp knife, or ... or... or..... and... and ... and....... Thankfully I have the perspective that this is a very appropriate developmental stage, and that at some point my easy going, cooperative, pleasant son will return. It will happen, right?
TTC is not nearly as fun as I'd imagined. I've looked forward to it for so long, but? It's kind of a pain in the ass. I'm in my first cycle actually trying, ever, and well? I was so distracted during our, um, attempts. I was so preoccupied with thoughts of TTC that I forgot to feel close, kwim? Rainbows didn't shoot out of our asses, or anything! Like anything, I guess, reality is different from the fantasy. I'm only 2 dpo, and I'm already looking forward to not-trying-to-make-a-baby-sex. It's way more fun. I'm trying not to obsess, and truthfully, if I'm not pregnant this cycle I'll be disappointed but not wrecked. Next month? I'll likely be wrecked. I've always been sensitive about TTC struggles ( I hope), having been in the adoption community for so long, but I now have a little bit (a teeny tiny very little bit) more understanding? (That's not the right word, and I don't know what is.) Anyhow, I hate that anyone has had to go through this for months and years.
I need to call Colin. I don't call him as often as I should. I think about him all the time, but life gets in the way, and I don't call. It's a bad excuse, but it's all I've got.
I suppose that's all for an average Monday night :) I know I'll enjoy looking back 6 or 12 or 18 months from now :)
So, I blog.
I'm closing in on 1 year of blogging (!), and I've so enjoyed looking back on my own "recordings". I love reading old posts, and remembering. I love that adoption issues are certainly present in my posts, but not dominant. I feel like I've integrated my experience as a birthmom into my life, and I think the blog definitely reflects that it is Just One Hat.
So, in that vein, here are some average, boring, glimpses into life this week:
Husband's business is doing well, but he is overwhelmed and stressed with figuring out the "plan" to execute the snow removal contracts he has for this winter. We had sleet/rain/snow/slush last night, which left him frantic today. It will all come together, but these are tough days for him. I try to be supportive and positive, but there is so much of the business I don't understand, so I wind up giving very cliche, very lame "advice". I couldn't be LESS stressed about it, because no matter what? It won't be as bad as last year, aka his FIRST year.
My job is lame. I don't hate it, because it's easy and at this point in my life I'm not looking for a challenge when it comes to my work. What I hate is the schedule. And I have a pretty decent schedule! I hate being stretched so thin. I hate taking anything away from my household. I sometimes joke to husband that gender equality is oppressive! I should really shut up, because my job has allowed us to start husband's business, and I'm lucky enough to have a job, BUT BUT BUT being a working mom is fucking hard.
Jeb is fantastic. He is doing exactly what an almost-3-year-old should be doing. He's wearing me the fuck out. He is calling my bluff right and left and it's both amazingly frustrating and amazingly hilarious. This age is more challenging than any, so far. I've had to be more firm with him than ever, and the phrase "pick your battles" has been whispered from my lips more than ever before. Most days he's in his jammies until 2pm because getting dressed is a complete THROW DOWN. Just like getting in his car seat. And out of his car seat. And eating lunch instead of Halloween candy. And going to bed. And coming up from the basement after we switch the laundry. And not coloring on the walls. And not jumping on my head. Or dumping a bowl of scrambled eggs on the carpet. And NOT playing with my phone, or daddy's phone, or the computer, or a sharp knife, or ... or... or..... and... and ... and....... Thankfully I have the perspective that this is a very appropriate developmental stage, and that at some point my easy going, cooperative, pleasant son will return. It will happen, right?
TTC is not nearly as fun as I'd imagined. I've looked forward to it for so long, but? It's kind of a pain in the ass. I'm in my first cycle actually trying, ever, and well? I was so distracted during our, um, attempts. I was so preoccupied with thoughts of TTC that I forgot to feel close, kwim? Rainbows didn't shoot out of our asses, or anything! Like anything, I guess, reality is different from the fantasy. I'm only 2 dpo, and I'm already looking forward to not-trying-to-make-a-baby-sex. It's way more fun. I'm trying not to obsess, and truthfully, if I'm not pregnant this cycle I'll be disappointed but not wrecked. Next month? I'll likely be wrecked. I've always been sensitive about TTC struggles ( I hope), having been in the adoption community for so long, but I now have a little bit (a teeny tiny very little bit) more understanding? (That's not the right word, and I don't know what is.) Anyhow, I hate that anyone has had to go through this for months and years.
I need to call Colin. I don't call him as often as I should. I think about him all the time, but life gets in the way, and I don't call. It's a bad excuse, but it's all I've got.
I suppose that's all for an average Monday night :) I know I'll enjoy looking back 6 or 12 or 18 months from now :)
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
November will always hold a special place in my heart.
Today Jeb and I were outside, kicking leaves, and I thought of a private journal entry I wrote last year:
November always makes me think of those weeks I waited for Jeb's arrival. He was supposed to be a November baby. Throughout the pregnancy I fantasized about the familiar sights and smells that November brings, thinking they would be the sights and smells of early labor and early newborn-ness. It was not to be (as he was 2 weeks "late"), and now those sights and smells bring me back to a place of w a i t i n g. My boy is now quickly closing in on 2 (eta 3!) , which is too much to think about sometimes.
As Jeb's birthday approaches, I can't help but get transported back in time, and relive the days/weeks/moments of excitement/anticipation/nerves leading up to his birth. The same thing happens as I approach Colin's birthday each year. I'm happy that their births are opposite each other on the calendar. Each May as I remember Colin's beginnings, my thoughts and feelings are drawn to: buds on trees, longer days, new life at every glance, a general feeling of stepping outside and giving new life. Each November (turned December) as I remember Jeb's beginnings, my thoughts and feelings are drawn to: crisp evenings, falling leaves, shorter days, and turning inward to begin mothering. It feels just right.
Welcome, November, it's good to feel you again.
November always makes me think of those weeks I waited for Jeb's arrival. He was supposed to be a November baby. Throughout the pregnancy I fantasized about the familiar sights and smells that November brings, thinking they would be the sights and smells of early labor and early newborn-ness. It was not to be (as he was 2 weeks "late"), and now those sights and smells bring me back to a place of w a i t i n g. My boy is now quickly closing in on 2 (eta 3!) , which is too much to think about sometimes.
As Jeb's birthday approaches, I can't help but get transported back in time, and relive the days/weeks/moments of excitement/anticipation/nerves leading up to his birth. The same thing happens as I approach Colin's birthday each year. I'm happy that their births are opposite each other on the calendar. Each May as I remember Colin's beginnings, my thoughts and feelings are drawn to: buds on trees, longer days, new life at every glance, a general feeling of stepping outside and giving new life. Each November (turned December) as I remember Jeb's beginnings, my thoughts and feelings are drawn to: crisp evenings, falling leaves, shorter days, and turning inward to begin mothering. It feels just right.
Welcome, November, it's good to feel you again.
Monday, November 1, 2010
Inspired by Production not Reproduction
Oh, man, you know when you read a blog post and you didn't realize you had so much to say until you read that post? I love when this happens; I love a good spring board.
I just read Production not Reproduction 's post about things "I don't have to think about".
A few really hit home:
Today I don't have to think about how to answer the question "How many children do you have?" Ugh. I have gone through so many phases of comfort with this question. Way before I had Jeb, I was so new in my birthmotherhood that I proudly shouted that I had a child. I told anyone and everyone about open adoption, and about my son. Then, still before I had Jeb, I got a little more private, and would still talk about my experience when the conversation turned to birth (because I just couldn't deny the fact that I'd given birth), and used words/phrases like "not parenting", and "placed in an open adoption", and "future birth siblings", ect. Then, it got harder when I was pregnant with Jeb. Is this your first? "Um, kind of..." was the true-est answer I could come up with. Sometimes I would just say "yes, this is my first", and feel guilty, but you know what? The lady in the grocery store doesn't want to know the whole story. And she shouldn't have to be understanding of the fact that every flipping pregnant woman coming through her line might be sensitive to such a question! I always struggled with whether or not giving the "easy" answer would hurt Colin. I can handle most of the schmudge that is adoption, but I never wanted to "deny" him, my son, my blood, my love. And now--now that I don't have to 'fess up during talks of pregnancy and birth, since everyone I talk to knows I'm parenting Jeb, it's gotten slightly easier. But I'm still more private than I was back in those early days. Just this week Colin came up in conversation with someone who didn't know (it's so hard to remember who knows what, and I'm so comfortable with all of it that I occasionally reference Colin in conversation with people who don't know my story), and I had to explain. I struggled. Well, I didn't struggle in the typical sense, but sometimes I just want to stick a thumbdrive into people so they can get caught up and I don't have to answer the same stupid questions over and over and over; or smile and nod as they tell me how brave and wonderful I was. (And? When I realize someone is just learning that I am a birthmom, all I can think is "oh, here we go, dammit I wish I'd just kept my mouth shut!" Not because I don't want to talk about it, but most people are just so damned ANNOYING about it and DON'T GET IT. An I'm over the education part of this journey. For now, anyway.) This turned into a serious ramble, but the real answer is that it is always tricky to tell people how many kids I have. I want to maintain our collective privacy, without being dishonest, and without denying my son. /end rant.
*deep breath*
Today I don't have to think about a professional treating me differently when I answer their questions about pregnancies and number of children at home. Yes, yes, yes. Remember when I had that ridiculous cyst on my forehead? I accidentally got into an awkward convo with the friggin' dermatologist about my medical history. He was just taking a general history, and Jeb was on my lap, and he asked a very benign question "one child?", (see above), and I answered that no, I've had 2 sons, the other is 12 but I don't parent him. Um, DUH? The derm doesn't really need to know about my reproductive history, and more?!?!?! I didn't have to even bring up that I wasn't parenting!! I could have said that I also have a 12 year old, so as to stay honest on the medical front, but left it at that since he could have just been in school! I was so caught off guard, and for the rest of the appt, I felt weird. "not parenting" could also mean I was an asshole and my parents had to step in and take my kid because I wasn't doing a good job. Blah. This stuff happens more often than you'd think. Colin exists, I gave birth to him, it happened, so when someone asks something that brings him up in my mind, I don't/can't lie. It's not calculated, it's just what happens when someone asks you about something that's real.
Today I don't have to think about people using one of the most painful decisions of my life as ammunition in their debate over abortion. Holy shit, YES. I can't fucking stand the pro-lifers' argument "How about ADOPTION!!" Barf. I can understand many many of the arguments from the pro-life side. But telling women that adoption is such a fantastic, and easy thing to do? And you'll be an angel of life! And there are wonderfully attractive and morally upstanding and infertile couples out there! Don't you just want to make their dreams come true! They even have a nursery all.ready.to.go!!!! You are denying "good" couples from being parents if you abort!----Disgusting. I have zero regret. I am happy with my choice to carry a pregnancy and then place my baby. But that has nothing to do with ANYONE ELSE'S DECISION. I can't tell you how many people have used my decision to argue their pro life stance. And I'm pro choice!! I don't want to be anyone's poster child. Just because adoption was right for me doesn't mean it's right for anyone else. It's hard. And it sucks sometimes. Being pregnant knowing I wasn't going to parent s.u.c.k.e.d. I wouldn't suggest placing to anyone; it's got to come from within.
So, I'd like to close with a few of my own statements, in the same vein as Production's post, but from a different perspective.
Today I don't have to think about how Jeb's first mother is feeling.
Today I don't have to wonder from whom he got his big brown eyes.
Today I don't have to hear stupid remarks about who is Jeb's "real" mother.
Today I don't have to think about money, or time, or another woman, when I think about growing my family.
To this day, I have never had a Social Worker. I've never had to prove anything to anyone in order to be a mom.
Today, when Jeb had a fit, it didn't cross my mind that it could be something deeper. Whenever he has a hard time in the future I won't have to wonder if there is a sense of loss driving his behavior.
I know this has gotten long, but it was so terrific to see my perspective understood by another member of the triad. My goal is to understand, as much as possible, other members of the triad. Not only to help me understand Colin better, which is obviously my huge goal, but to understand his parents better and my husband's place in it all better, and Jeb's place in it better, and the list goes on.
I just read Production not Reproduction 's post about things "I don't have to think about".
A few really hit home:
Today I don't have to think about how to answer the question "How many children do you have?" Ugh. I have gone through so many phases of comfort with this question. Way before I had Jeb, I was so new in my birthmotherhood that I proudly shouted that I had a child. I told anyone and everyone about open adoption, and about my son. Then, still before I had Jeb, I got a little more private, and would still talk about my experience when the conversation turned to birth (because I just couldn't deny the fact that I'd given birth), and used words/phrases like "not parenting", and "placed in an open adoption", and "future birth siblings", ect. Then, it got harder when I was pregnant with Jeb. Is this your first? "Um, kind of..." was the true-est answer I could come up with. Sometimes I would just say "yes, this is my first", and feel guilty, but you know what? The lady in the grocery store doesn't want to know the whole story. And she shouldn't have to be understanding of the fact that every flipping pregnant woman coming through her line might be sensitive to such a question! I always struggled with whether or not giving the "easy" answer would hurt Colin. I can handle most of the schmudge that is adoption, but I never wanted to "deny" him, my son, my blood, my love. And now--now that I don't have to 'fess up during talks of pregnancy and birth, since everyone I talk to knows I'm parenting Jeb, it's gotten slightly easier. But I'm still more private than I was back in those early days. Just this week Colin came up in conversation with someone who didn't know (it's so hard to remember who knows what, and I'm so comfortable with all of it that I occasionally reference Colin in conversation with people who don't know my story), and I had to explain. I struggled. Well, I didn't struggle in the typical sense, but sometimes I just want to stick a thumbdrive into people so they can get caught up and I don't have to answer the same stupid questions over and over and over; or smile and nod as they tell me how brave and wonderful I was. (And? When I realize someone is just learning that I am a birthmom, all I can think is "oh, here we go, dammit I wish I'd just kept my mouth shut!" Not because I don't want to talk about it, but most people are just so damned ANNOYING about it and DON'T GET IT. An I'm over the education part of this journey. For now, anyway.) This turned into a serious ramble, but the real answer is that it is always tricky to tell people how many kids I have. I want to maintain our collective privacy, without being dishonest, and without denying my son. /end rant.
*deep breath*
Today I don't have to think about a professional treating me differently when I answer their questions about pregnancies and number of children at home. Yes, yes, yes. Remember when I had that ridiculous cyst on my forehead? I accidentally got into an awkward convo with the friggin' dermatologist about my medical history. He was just taking a general history, and Jeb was on my lap, and he asked a very benign question "one child?", (see above), and I answered that no, I've had 2 sons, the other is 12 but I don't parent him. Um, DUH? The derm doesn't really need to know about my reproductive history, and more?!?!?! I didn't have to even bring up that I wasn't parenting!! I could have said that I also have a 12 year old, so as to stay honest on the medical front, but left it at that since he could have just been in school! I was so caught off guard, and for the rest of the appt, I felt weird. "not parenting" could also mean I was an asshole and my parents had to step in and take my kid because I wasn't doing a good job. Blah. This stuff happens more often than you'd think. Colin exists, I gave birth to him, it happened, so when someone asks something that brings him up in my mind, I don't/can't lie. It's not calculated, it's just what happens when someone asks you about something that's real.
Today I don't have to think about people using one of the most painful decisions of my life as ammunition in their debate over abortion. Holy shit, YES. I can't fucking stand the pro-lifers' argument "How about ADOPTION!!" Barf. I can understand many many of the arguments from the pro-life side. But telling women that adoption is such a fantastic, and easy thing to do? And you'll be an angel of life! And there are wonderfully attractive and morally upstanding and infertile couples out there! Don't you just want to make their dreams come true! They even have a nursery all.ready.to.go!!!! You are denying "good" couples from being parents if you abort!----Disgusting. I have zero regret. I am happy with my choice to carry a pregnancy and then place my baby. But that has nothing to do with ANYONE ELSE'S DECISION. I can't tell you how many people have used my decision to argue their pro life stance. And I'm pro choice!! I don't want to be anyone's poster child. Just because adoption was right for me doesn't mean it's right for anyone else. It's hard. And it sucks sometimes. Being pregnant knowing I wasn't going to parent s.u.c.k.e.d. I wouldn't suggest placing to anyone; it's got to come from within.
So, I'd like to close with a few of my own statements, in the same vein as Production's post, but from a different perspective.
Today I don't have to think about how Jeb's first mother is feeling.
Today I don't have to wonder from whom he got his big brown eyes.
Today I don't have to hear stupid remarks about who is Jeb's "real" mother.
Today I don't have to think about money, or time, or another woman, when I think about growing my family.
To this day, I have never had a Social Worker. I've never had to prove anything to anyone in order to be a mom.
Today, when Jeb had a fit, it didn't cross my mind that it could be something deeper. Whenever he has a hard time in the future I won't have to wonder if there is a sense of loss driving his behavior.
I know this has gotten long, but it was so terrific to see my perspective understood by another member of the triad. My goal is to understand, as much as possible, other members of the triad. Not only to help me understand Colin better, which is obviously my huge goal, but to understand his parents better and my husband's place in it all better, and Jeb's place in it better, and the list goes on.
Friday, October 22, 2010
A Brain Dump
There have been several things I've wanted to blog about in the last 10 days, but they've all been competing for space in my head so badly, that I haven't been able to write coherently on any of them. So, I'm just going to brain dump and get over it.
1. An anniversary related to my placement happened this week. On Oct 19, 1997 I got a positive pregnancy test. I was 9w5d. It boggles my mind that I was so far along before taking a test, but I was so young and unaware. And, my cycles were irregular. When I was pregnant with Jeb, by the time I reached 9w5d, I thought to myself geez if I didn't know I were pregnant I'd think I was dying... how did I NOT KNOW? But? Youth and denial are powerful forces. And, pregnancy was so much easier at 17 than 27, ....and so many other things. I should really make a blog post solely about that day.
2. Autumn has been good to my family. B's business is going well. Our personal finances are so much better than they were 6 months ago when I wrote about the crippling money stress. We have had all the typical, awesome, family outings. We've visited the pumpkin patch, picked apples, gone to the County Fair, taken walks through crunching leaves, seen the Jack-O-Lantern display at the zoo, and all that good stuff. Of course, I forgot my camera for every.singe.one. of these awesome memories, but I'm trying not to beat myself up for it ;) We have still to watch Charlie Brown's Great Pumpkin while eating donuts and cider (a family tradition), and obviously we are looking forward to trick or treating in a big way. Jeb is dressing up as Captain Hook, and is so unbelievably excited to wear: A red jacket, mama! And a gold hook, mama!! Arrggghh!!
3. I am enjoying Fall on a whole different, much quieter level. I am heeding the pull indoors. Cooking hearty meals in the slow cooker. Snuggling under blankets to early morning cartoons, and to late evening movies/snacks. It feels strangely comforting to retire the herb garden and drink hot tea every afternoon. I'm appreciating my outside running, but am also looking forward to hanging out on the treadmill (no hills!), and reuniting with my yoga videos. The sunsets, albeit much earlier, seem so much more vibrant than I remember from the warmer months. I'm enjoying living in a place that shows me the beauty of every season, and commands my attention.
4. Jeb is at a new, ahem, developmental stage. Oh, boy. I revelled in his lack of 2-year-terribles. However, he is quickly approaching the even-more-difficult-3s. And it's not even that he's difficult, he's just smarter. I've lost my patience with him more in the last 3 weeks than in the last 6 months. My usually effective tactics just aren't working. A perfect example is when we are in the laundry room and it's time to go upstairs, I say Come'on Jeb, let's race! That used to work like a charm, now he looks at me and says Go ahead, mama, you can win while he tries to stay in the basement and play with any number of dangerous tools/equipment/toxins. Or, it used to be that when he fought with me about something, I would tell him that he wasn't being a good listener, and that alone would compel him to comply... now? He tells me I don't want to listen. Oh, ok. We've gone through other developmental transitions, and I know it just takes time for me to learn his new buttons, and for him to learn my new limits, but the middle part is sticky. Last week, one day he went to time out 6 times, because he was trying to call my bluff. The threat of time out used to be all-powerful, and then he woke up one day and decided to test it. That was a tough day. We'll get through, and I'm acutely aware that I need to (a. be consistent and firm, but not lose it, and (b. hug and validate him even more that usual. Let's just say that I'm finding this stage to be challenging, and when I lay my head down at night and think back on the day... if I didn't lose it on him, it's a good day.
5. The election. I won't get political here, but the election is on my mind often. B is a political junkie, so it's ever-present. I'm looking forward to post-11.2.
6. Hormones. I think maybe they should be called Whoremones, because I hate them. I am in the throes of one of the worst PMSs I can remember. I'm def not pregnant this month, which is OK, for a lot of reasons, but the PMS is just a slap in the face.
7. Gratitude. Honestly, I say a prayer of gratitude daily. Not because I think I should, it just happens. In the midst of toddler tantrums, and stressfull/busy schedules, hormones, and daily irritations, I am struck every single day with just how blessed my life is. I am eternally grateful that my "stressors" are: a job that needs my work, a healthy body that loves to exercise, a smart and healthy son who challenges me, a hard working and loving husband who wants some of my time, enough money to pay our bills and provide good food, a home that needs attention.
/end brain dump.
1. An anniversary related to my placement happened this week. On Oct 19, 1997 I got a positive pregnancy test. I was 9w5d. It boggles my mind that I was so far along before taking a test, but I was so young and unaware. And, my cycles were irregular. When I was pregnant with Jeb, by the time I reached 9w5d, I thought to myself geez if I didn't know I were pregnant I'd think I was dying... how did I NOT KNOW? But? Youth and denial are powerful forces. And, pregnancy was so much easier at 17 than 27, ....and so many other things. I should really make a blog post solely about that day.
2. Autumn has been good to my family. B's business is going well. Our personal finances are so much better than they were 6 months ago when I wrote about the crippling money stress. We have had all the typical, awesome, family outings. We've visited the pumpkin patch, picked apples, gone to the County Fair, taken walks through crunching leaves, seen the Jack-O-Lantern display at the zoo, and all that good stuff. Of course, I forgot my camera for every.singe.one. of these awesome memories, but I'm trying not to beat myself up for it ;) We have still to watch Charlie Brown's Great Pumpkin while eating donuts and cider (a family tradition), and obviously we are looking forward to trick or treating in a big way. Jeb is dressing up as Captain Hook, and is so unbelievably excited to wear: A red jacket, mama! And a gold hook, mama!! Arrggghh!!
3. I am enjoying Fall on a whole different, much quieter level. I am heeding the pull indoors. Cooking hearty meals in the slow cooker. Snuggling under blankets to early morning cartoons, and to late evening movies/snacks. It feels strangely comforting to retire the herb garden and drink hot tea every afternoon. I'm appreciating my outside running, but am also looking forward to hanging out on the treadmill (no hills!), and reuniting with my yoga videos. The sunsets, albeit much earlier, seem so much more vibrant than I remember from the warmer months. I'm enjoying living in a place that shows me the beauty of every season, and commands my attention.
4. Jeb is at a new, ahem, developmental stage. Oh, boy. I revelled in his lack of 2-year-terribles. However, he is quickly approaching the even-more-difficult-3s. And it's not even that he's difficult, he's just smarter. I've lost my patience with him more in the last 3 weeks than in the last 6 months. My usually effective tactics just aren't working. A perfect example is when we are in the laundry room and it's time to go upstairs, I say Come'on Jeb, let's race! That used to work like a charm, now he looks at me and says Go ahead, mama, you can win while he tries to stay in the basement and play with any number of dangerous tools/equipment/toxins. Or, it used to be that when he fought with me about something, I would tell him that he wasn't being a good listener, and that alone would compel him to comply... now? He tells me I don't want to listen. Oh, ok. We've gone through other developmental transitions, and I know it just takes time for me to learn his new buttons, and for him to learn my new limits, but the middle part is sticky. Last week, one day he went to time out 6 times, because he was trying to call my bluff. The threat of time out used to be all-powerful, and then he woke up one day and decided to test it. That was a tough day. We'll get through, and I'm acutely aware that I need to (a. be consistent and firm, but not lose it, and (b. hug and validate him even more that usual. Let's just say that I'm finding this stage to be challenging, and when I lay my head down at night and think back on the day... if I didn't lose it on him, it's a good day.
5. The election. I won't get political here, but the election is on my mind often. B is a political junkie, so it's ever-present. I'm looking forward to post-11.2.
6. Hormones. I think maybe they should be called Whoremones, because I hate them. I am in the throes of one of the worst PMSs I can remember. I'm def not pregnant this month, which is OK, for a lot of reasons, but the PMS is just a slap in the face.
7. Gratitude. Honestly, I say a prayer of gratitude daily. Not because I think I should, it just happens. In the midst of toddler tantrums, and stressfull/busy schedules, hormones, and daily irritations, I am struck every single day with just how blessed my life is. I am eternally grateful that my "stressors" are: a job that needs my work, a healthy body that loves to exercise, a smart and healthy son who challenges me, a hard working and loving husband who wants some of my time, enough money to pay our bills and provide good food, a home that needs attention.
/end brain dump.
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Weekend with BOTH my boys :)
This weekend was the annual FIA picnic up in Vermont. We've all attended every year since 1998. Colin's birthdad and his 8 year old son went, too, so it was a very brotherly weekend. It was so fun, and so special. I can't even explain how nuts Jeb is for Colin. He talks about "my big brother" constantly, and Colin was so proud to introduce Jeb as his brother to anyone who would listen. Colin camped with us Saturday night, how cool is that? We have worked so hard, and boy
the rewards are well worth it.
Can you tell I'm beaming?
No words.
Boys love to look for stuff in the woods, apparently ;) Jeb followed him everywhere!
They had so much fun playing around in the tent!
I don't know why, but I thought this was a pretty cool image. My boys' shoes, so casually laying around together.
the rewards are well worth it.
Can you tell I'm beaming?
No words.
Boys love to look for stuff in the woods, apparently ;) Jeb followed him everywhere!
They had so much fun playing around in the tent!
I don't know why, but I thought this was a pretty cool image. My boys' shoes, so casually laying around together.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
A regular kind of moment in an Open Adoption.
Jeb recently came across a photo of Colin and me and asked:
"What this?"
Me: "That's Colin and mama"
Jeb: "My big brother?"
Me: "Yes, your big brother."
Jeb: "I want him. I want see him."
Me: "We'll see him in a few weeks."
Jeb: "I want see him right now."
Me: " Me too, baby, me too."
"What this?"
Me: "That's Colin and mama"
Jeb: "My big brother?"
Me: "Yes, your big brother."
Jeb: "I want him. I want see him."
Me: "We'll see him in a few weeks."
Jeb: "I want see him right now."
Me: " Me too, baby, me too."
Thursday, May 13, 2010
My Labor Day
My Labor Day comes in May, not September.
Tomorrow my first born turns 12.
12 years ago tonight, at 0100, my water broke. I spent the entire day in labor, and gave birth in the wee hours on the 14th.
May 14 rolls around in my head almost constantly. At least 3 times per week, I look at the clock at 5:14. It's really weird, but it happens all.the.time. 514. fiveonefour. fivefourteen. oh five one four. may fourteen. May 14th. 5.14.98. May 14. May Fourteenth. It was my password for everything, for years.
BUT. May 13? That's my day. My Labor Day. That's the day I look at the clock and can tell you, at any given moment what was going on. In fact, I can tell you about the entire week. In my mind, it runs like an old film; really fast snap shots with no sound, or rather, like it's being narrated.
On the afternoon of May 11, at 39 weeks, I was running (trotting?) out to the car and tripped and fell FLAT on my belly. Everything was fine, but I always wonder if that's what lead to my water breaking less than 48 hours later.
On the afternoon of May 12 (it was a Tuesday), my boyfriend (not the birthdad) dropped me off after school and said "Call me when you go into labor tonight!" HAHAHA! We laughed!
At 0100, now Wednesday May 13, I woke up to go to the bathroom (again), stood up, and could not for the life of me figure out why I was peeing all over myself. OH! Maybe this is it! I sat on the toilet and dripped. And dripped. And hollered to my mom. She called the midwife who told me to get some rest. Oh, right, because it is so easy to sleep when you are 18 and about to give birth to a baby you will then not take home.
So, I did calculus homework. (I later asked my calc teacher for extra credit for doing homework in labor. He said no.)
I tossed and turned.
I was pretty unemotional; I was naive.
I called Colin's parents and they got ready for the drive.
I called my boyfriend in the morning; he had to go to school.
The principle said a prayer for me over the intercom.
Once the sun came up, I went to the midwife's office where ruptured membranes were confirmed, and mom and I were sent to the hospital. We got there late morning, and did the whole triage thing. I thought it was outrageous that I had to walk around dripping. I was settled into my L&D room around noon. Contractions were bearable. I was on complete auto pilot. The biggest emotion I can remember is being so excited for Colin's parents. I wanted them to get to me asap and enjoy this stuff.
I got an epidural around 3. I honest to God thought the anesthesiologist was joking when he told me I'd have to stay still during a contraction. It seemed impossible, but I shut my mouth and did it. I tried not to make any waves through any of it. There was already so much fuss and comotion over my pregnancy, I didn't want to be any more of a burden.
The afternoon dragged on. Boyfriend came to see me. We watched the Last Ever Episode of Seinfeld. Colin's parents were stuck in major traffic. Like, bumper to bumper for hours. A 3 hour drive took >7 hours that night. I felt so badly for them; I couldn't imagine the torture of sitting still on a highway while you are trying to get to your baby's birth.
I was declared ready-to-push at 10pm. Boyfriend held a leg, and mom held the other. I pushed, and nothing happened. At 11pm boyfriend had to leave, it was a school night after all. He passed Colin's parents in the hallway and they held each other and cried. Colin's mom, D, wiped my brow as I pushed. and pushed and pushed. Dad, G, waited in another room. I pushed for 4 hours. They put forceps on, and Colin was finally, mercifully born at 0159. "It's a boy! You have a son!", the Ob said to me; I appreciate that more now than I did then.
We all cried. He was so bruised. I had the hormone shakes, and remember thinking it was very metaphorical. I was being shaken into my new life. G&D held their son and looked at him like new parents do. You know that look. You can feel it on your own face when you look at your kids, esp when they are brandy-new.
Everyone went home, and we all got some sleep. Colin didn't room in with me, I didn't even think of it. Later that morning, I rang for the nurse and asked for my baby. I fully expected her to tell me "no", and I would have accepted that. I was surprised when she said "yes".
G&D came back and we began this whole Open Adoption Thing. They bought newspapers with the date, fivefourteen. We all held, changed, and loved this new baby. We each rubbed our cheeks on his, and tried to honor each others' feelings.
Friday May 15, everything came crashing down. Birthdad said he would not sign. G&D brought me their car seat so I could bring my son home. I considered changing his name to Jake, but just couldn't do it. I felt so badly for my mom, she was going to have to help me a lot. I was crushed for G&D. They were crushed, too. A social worker came to my room and talked to me like I was a 5 year old; "now you know the baby needs to eat often, right?" in a very high, sing-songy voice. Yeah, lady, I was making an adoption plan, I'm not a dunce.
Saturday May 16, I took my son home. I was numb, and scared, and relieved, and sad, and scared scared scared. He didn't sleep a wink that night; we both cried much of the night.
Monday May 18 was my due date. It was my first full day alone with the baby. I read to him from The Bastard. Boyfriend thought it was inappropriate reading material for a newborn, but I reminded him: it's good for the baby to be talked to a lot, and I ran out of things to say. I started reading What to Expect the First Year, and tried to be the best mom I could.
Tomorrow my first born turns 12.
12 years ago tonight, at 0100, my water broke. I spent the entire day in labor, and gave birth in the wee hours on the 14th.
May 14 rolls around in my head almost constantly. At least 3 times per week, I look at the clock at 5:14. It's really weird, but it happens all.the.time. 514. fiveonefour. fivefourteen. oh five one four. may fourteen. May 14th. 5.14.98. May 14. May Fourteenth. It was my password for everything, for years.
BUT. May 13? That's my day. My Labor Day. That's the day I look at the clock and can tell you, at any given moment what was going on. In fact, I can tell you about the entire week. In my mind, it runs like an old film; really fast snap shots with no sound, or rather, like it's being narrated.
On the afternoon of May 11, at 39 weeks, I was running (trotting?) out to the car and tripped and fell FLAT on my belly. Everything was fine, but I always wonder if that's what lead to my water breaking less than 48 hours later.
On the afternoon of May 12 (it was a Tuesday), my boyfriend (not the birthdad) dropped me off after school and said "Call me when you go into labor tonight!" HAHAHA! We laughed!
At 0100, now Wednesday May 13, I woke up to go to the bathroom (again), stood up, and could not for the life of me figure out why I was peeing all over myself. OH! Maybe this is it! I sat on the toilet and dripped. And dripped. And hollered to my mom. She called the midwife who told me to get some rest. Oh, right, because it is so easy to sleep when you are 18 and about to give birth to a baby you will then not take home.
So, I did calculus homework. (I later asked my calc teacher for extra credit for doing homework in labor. He said no.)
I tossed and turned.
I was pretty unemotional; I was naive.
I called Colin's parents and they got ready for the drive.
I called my boyfriend in the morning; he had to go to school.
The principle said a prayer for me over the intercom.
Once the sun came up, I went to the midwife's office where ruptured membranes were confirmed, and mom and I were sent to the hospital. We got there late morning, and did the whole triage thing. I thought it was outrageous that I had to walk around dripping. I was settled into my L&D room around noon. Contractions were bearable. I was on complete auto pilot. The biggest emotion I can remember is being so excited for Colin's parents. I wanted them to get to me asap and enjoy this stuff.
I got an epidural around 3. I honest to God thought the anesthesiologist was joking when he told me I'd have to stay still during a contraction. It seemed impossible, but I shut my mouth and did it. I tried not to make any waves through any of it. There was already so much fuss and comotion over my pregnancy, I didn't want to be any more of a burden.
The afternoon dragged on. Boyfriend came to see me. We watched the Last Ever Episode of Seinfeld. Colin's parents were stuck in major traffic. Like, bumper to bumper for hours. A 3 hour drive took >7 hours that night. I felt so badly for them; I couldn't imagine the torture of sitting still on a highway while you are trying to get to your baby's birth.
I was declared ready-to-push at 10pm. Boyfriend held a leg, and mom held the other. I pushed, and nothing happened. At 11pm boyfriend had to leave, it was a school night after all. He passed Colin's parents in the hallway and they held each other and cried. Colin's mom, D, wiped my brow as I pushed. and pushed and pushed. Dad, G, waited in another room. I pushed for 4 hours. They put forceps on, and Colin was finally, mercifully born at 0159. "It's a boy! You have a son!", the Ob said to me; I appreciate that more now than I did then.
We all cried. He was so bruised. I had the hormone shakes, and remember thinking it was very metaphorical. I was being shaken into my new life. G&D held their son and looked at him like new parents do. You know that look. You can feel it on your own face when you look at your kids, esp when they are brandy-new.
Everyone went home, and we all got some sleep. Colin didn't room in with me, I didn't even think of it. Later that morning, I rang for the nurse and asked for my baby. I fully expected her to tell me "no", and I would have accepted that. I was surprised when she said "yes".
G&D came back and we began this whole Open Adoption Thing. They bought newspapers with the date, fivefourteen. We all held, changed, and loved this new baby. We each rubbed our cheeks on his, and tried to honor each others' feelings.
Friday May 15, everything came crashing down. Birthdad said he would not sign. G&D brought me their car seat so I could bring my son home. I considered changing his name to Jake, but just couldn't do it. I felt so badly for my mom, she was going to have to help me a lot. I was crushed for G&D. They were crushed, too. A social worker came to my room and talked to me like I was a 5 year old; "now you know the baby needs to eat often, right?" in a very high, sing-songy voice. Yeah, lady, I was making an adoption plan, I'm not a dunce.
Saturday May 16, I took my son home. I was numb, and scared, and relieved, and sad, and scared scared scared. He didn't sleep a wink that night; we both cried much of the night.
Monday May 18 was my due date. It was my first full day alone with the baby. I read to him from The Bastard. Boyfriend thought it was inappropriate reading material for a newborn, but I reminded him: it's good for the baby to be talked to a lot, and I ran out of things to say. I started reading What to Expect the First Year, and tried to be the best mom I could.
Saturday, May 8, 2010
Happy Birthmother's Day!
I first heard of Birthmother's Day when Colin was 1. I believe it was his mom that told me about it and recognized me on that day for the first time. I was ecstatic. I felt so honored, and appreciated to have my own day. Mother's Day was so hard, I loved having a day that was mine, that honored the sacrifice and bittersweet feelings of being a birthmom. I saw it as an example of how far we've come wrt birthparenthood, and not asking us to just "get on with our lives". It was one way to integrate this experience and carry it with us as we continued our lives.
I've heard from some birthmother's that they find Birthmother's Day kind of offensive. That it separates us from "real" mothers, or excludes us from the "real" holiday. It never occurred to me to think of it like that, but I can see why some do. Although, I'm sure whomever started Birthmother's Day did it with intention of making us feel loved, and not excluded. I've chosen to just take it as a really nice gesture.
To me, we are different. The hardest part of Mother's Day (before Jeb) was that I felt kind of like a mother. I felt like I was in the club, but didn't have an invitation. At Mother's Day lunches, I felt like I was crashing the party. No one really knew what to say to me. I could see in their eyes that they remembered, and I felt bad for making their celebration uncomfortable.
My family has always been terrific about including me as a mother on Mother's Day, and of course I always appreciate it, but I like that Birthmother's Day feels more honest.
That's just me, though. I think that women should celebrate/recognize/honor whatever feels most comfortable for them. There are so many emotional stages of birthmotherhood; I've needed very different things in different years.
So, I hope everyone has a great weekend, whatever you are celebrating!
I've heard from some birthmother's that they find Birthmother's Day kind of offensive. That it separates us from "real" mothers, or excludes us from the "real" holiday. It never occurred to me to think of it like that, but I can see why some do. Although, I'm sure whomever started Birthmother's Day did it with intention of making us feel loved, and not excluded. I've chosen to just take it as a really nice gesture.
To me, we are different. The hardest part of Mother's Day (before Jeb) was that I felt kind of like a mother. I felt like I was in the club, but didn't have an invitation. At Mother's Day lunches, I felt like I was crashing the party. No one really knew what to say to me. I could see in their eyes that they remembered, and I felt bad for making their celebration uncomfortable.
My family has always been terrific about including me as a mother on Mother's Day, and of course I always appreciate it, but I like that Birthmother's Day feels more honest.
That's just me, though. I think that women should celebrate/recognize/honor whatever feels most comfortable for them. There are so many emotional stages of birthmotherhood; I've needed very different things in different years.
So, I hope everyone has a great weekend, whatever you are celebrating!
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
I won a book!
I was the winner of a giveaway! I won Sally Bacchetta's (Adoptive Parent) book, What I Want My Adopted Child to Know.
First, doesn't it just feel so good to win something? ;)
Second, WOW. It's terrific. At 106 pages, it's not long, but it is packed. In fact, I'm only on page 32, because I am pacing myself. I have no doubt I could read it in one evening, because when this subject matter is close to home, you drink in every word and can't get enough. I am limiting myself to 1 chapter per night, and I've even already re-read some. Every paragraph is so rich, and though it's hard to put it down, I know I want to process it slowly. I want to chew on each chapter, and learn and reflect as much as possible. I have no doubt I will read it many times before it stops teaching me.
Some parts are hard to read, I'll be honest. I've even had a few knee-jerk reactions that have left me feeling defensive. I'm far enough into my birthmotherhood, though, to look for the truth in those moments. And it is always there. One thing I hate about adoption in general is that each member of the triad is constantly challenged, and obligated, to accept/learn from the parts that are yucky. There are always more vegetables to eat.
I love the concept of the book. I love the gift that it gives adoptees. I love the window it gives me into the other side of this whole thing. It make me wonder, even more, what my birth son needs to hear from me. I feel silly saying it, but I had a better grip on what he needed from me when he was much younger. It was so simple then: I'm your birth mother. You grew in my belly. I chose your mommy and daddy because I wasn't ready or able to be a mommy. I loved you then and I love you now. I will always be a part of your life to help you understand. Um, now I'm to the last part and I'm not sure I even know what he needs in order to help him understand. I think I understand it less than I used to. This is not regret, it's part of birth parenting, I think. Just like how as a parent I don't have all the answers, as a birth parent I don't either. Colin and I have had a few of the conversations you fantasize about in the early years. I've told him my version, my side. I've offered a listening ear countless times, and in true 'tween boy fashion, he doesn't tend to pour his heart out to me. I've written him letters, and tried to give opportunities to talk about the Tough Stuff, but I get the feeling that he's uncomfortable being put on the spot. (Shocking! Right?) My hope is that even though he's been quiet when I've offered to listen, the message is still getting across. That he feels comforted knowing I care enough to offer. Repeatedly. That I'm always available. I email him regularly, and he responds sometimes, but not always. I usually tell him about random things that have made me think of him throughout my days, and I hope that he gets the sense that he is important to me and certainly on my mind. Is it enough?
Adoption professionals always talk about how even if an adoptee is quiet, don't assume they don't have questions, or want to talk about stuff. I totally get that, but then how do I know what to bring up? I don't want to inundate this kid with heavy stuff if he happens to be in the middle of some other adolescent struggle totally not related to adoption. I know at his age, what's on his mind most can change week to week. In some sense, I want to follow his lead. But he may not be able to take the lead. How do I handle this? I should ask his mom. She'll know much better where he is with everything. She'll know whether or not he needs support on this front right now or not. Moms always know :)
Adoption is a journey. Adoption is a journey. Adoption is a journey.
First, doesn't it just feel so good to win something? ;)
Second, WOW. It's terrific. At 106 pages, it's not long, but it is packed. In fact, I'm only on page 32, because I am pacing myself. I have no doubt I could read it in one evening, because when this subject matter is close to home, you drink in every word and can't get enough. I am limiting myself to 1 chapter per night, and I've even already re-read some. Every paragraph is so rich, and though it's hard to put it down, I know I want to process it slowly. I want to chew on each chapter, and learn and reflect as much as possible. I have no doubt I will read it many times before it stops teaching me.
Some parts are hard to read, I'll be honest. I've even had a few knee-jerk reactions that have left me feeling defensive. I'm far enough into my birthmotherhood, though, to look for the truth in those moments. And it is always there. One thing I hate about adoption in general is that each member of the triad is constantly challenged, and obligated, to accept/learn from the parts that are yucky. There are always more vegetables to eat.
I love the concept of the book. I love the gift that it gives adoptees. I love the window it gives me into the other side of this whole thing. It make me wonder, even more, what my birth son needs to hear from me. I feel silly saying it, but I had a better grip on what he needed from me when he was much younger. It was so simple then: I'm your birth mother. You grew in my belly. I chose your mommy and daddy because I wasn't ready or able to be a mommy. I loved you then and I love you now. I will always be a part of your life to help you understand. Um, now I'm to the last part and I'm not sure I even know what he needs in order to help him understand. I think I understand it less than I used to. This is not regret, it's part of birth parenting, I think. Just like how as a parent I don't have all the answers, as a birth parent I don't either. Colin and I have had a few of the conversations you fantasize about in the early years. I've told him my version, my side. I've offered a listening ear countless times, and in true 'tween boy fashion, he doesn't tend to pour his heart out to me. I've written him letters, and tried to give opportunities to talk about the Tough Stuff, but I get the feeling that he's uncomfortable being put on the spot. (Shocking! Right?) My hope is that even though he's been quiet when I've offered to listen, the message is still getting across. That he feels comforted knowing I care enough to offer. Repeatedly. That I'm always available. I email him regularly, and he responds sometimes, but not always. I usually tell him about random things that have made me think of him throughout my days, and I hope that he gets the sense that he is important to me and certainly on my mind. Is it enough?
Adoption professionals always talk about how even if an adoptee is quiet, don't assume they don't have questions, or want to talk about stuff. I totally get that, but then how do I know what to bring up? I don't want to inundate this kid with heavy stuff if he happens to be in the middle of some other adolescent struggle totally not related to adoption. I know at his age, what's on his mind most can change week to week. In some sense, I want to follow his lead. But he may not be able to take the lead. How do I handle this? I should ask his mom. She'll know much better where he is with everything. She'll know whether or not he needs support on this front right now or not. Moms always know :)
Adoption is a journey. Adoption is a journey. Adoption is a journey.
Friday, February 12, 2010
An Anniversary
12 years ago today, I spoke with Colin's parents for the first time.
I had called the agency just a week before asking for profiles. They sent me 4, and assured me that I could see many more if nothing jumped out at me. But G&D's profile did just that; it JUMPED out at me. When we would speak to waiting families in years to come, they always asked me what it was about the profile that made me love them. Honestly? It was really colorful and bright. That's it. I wish there was something more profound that I could tell Colin, but the truth is is that I was drawn to it's brightness. So, I told the agency I'd like to talk to G&D.
On Feb 12 they called me and we talked for about 15 minutes. I had a list of questions that now seem really superficial, but that's how you just start getting to know someone -- with awkward small talk. I told them I felt badly that they had to go through so much to be parents, that they had to be questioned by a teenager. They told me later that they were really impressed that I sympathized with them so early on.
There was chemistry from that first phone call, and that was that. I told the agency that I officially "chose" them, and they came to visit me 2 weeks later. We talked weekly until I delivered.
I took so much for granted. I was committed to placing and it would confuse me when they would talk in "ifs" instead of "whens". Now I know they were being respectful of my right to parent, but at the time I thought geez, why don't these people believe me? They would use adoption-sensitive language and I thought why don't they just talk normal? One time D used the word "co-parent" as in, not wanting to, and I thought who comes up with these words? obviously we're not co-parenting... he's going to be YOURS. I had a keen sense that I was holding all the cards; I'd never had that much power and it was uncomfortable. Everyone held their breath around me, including my family. From that first day I wanted to tell everyone to chill out. I'm placing this baby and that's that. (hmm, tangent much?)
12 years. Man, time flies.
I had called the agency just a week before asking for profiles. They sent me 4, and assured me that I could see many more if nothing jumped out at me. But G&D's profile did just that; it JUMPED out at me. When we would speak to waiting families in years to come, they always asked me what it was about the profile that made me love them. Honestly? It was really colorful and bright. That's it. I wish there was something more profound that I could tell Colin, but the truth is is that I was drawn to it's brightness. So, I told the agency I'd like to talk to G&D.
On Feb 12 they called me and we talked for about 15 minutes. I had a list of questions that now seem really superficial, but that's how you just start getting to know someone -- with awkward small talk. I told them I felt badly that they had to go through so much to be parents, that they had to be questioned by a teenager. They told me later that they were really impressed that I sympathized with them so early on.
There was chemistry from that first phone call, and that was that. I told the agency that I officially "chose" them, and they came to visit me 2 weeks later. We talked weekly until I delivered.
I took so much for granted. I was committed to placing and it would confuse me when they would talk in "ifs" instead of "whens". Now I know they were being respectful of my right to parent, but at the time I thought geez, why don't these people believe me? They would use adoption-sensitive language and I thought why don't they just talk normal? One time D used the word "co-parent" as in, not wanting to, and I thought who comes up with these words? obviously we're not co-parenting... he's going to be YOURS. I had a keen sense that I was holding all the cards; I'd never had that much power and it was uncomfortable. Everyone held their breath around me, including my family. From that first day I wanted to tell everyone to chill out. I'm placing this baby and that's that. (hmm, tangent much?)
12 years. Man, time flies.
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
Birth Order in Birth Families
When I was 19, and Colin was 17 months old, I attended an awesome retreat for birthmothers. It was the first time I was even in the same room with another birthmother; the isolation melted away in a puddle of tears. It was incredible. One of the biggest surprises, to me, was that there were women there who had placed under very different circumstances than me. I know that sounds very naive, but I was the classic teenager in a crisis pregnancy who then became the "angel" (gag) for an infertile couple. At the retreat, I met women who had placed multiple children, who were already parenting several children and then placed a surprise baby, and a married couple who had placed. At first, I'll admit it, I was judgemental.
I looked at the woman who had placed 3 times and thought: How in the world did you keep letting this happen?
I looked at the woman who was already parenting several children and thought: Really? This is the one you can't handle? How is that child going to feel years from now knowing his siblings were cool to "keep", but he wasn't?
I looked at the married couple and raged: Holy crap! If I had been remotely close to marriage I would never have given my son away! How is your kid going to handle that?
It took me about an afternoon to notice that despite different circumstances, there was a universal theme. Every single woman there placed because she didn't feel ready/able/prepared to parent her baby. Every single woman there wanted a different life for her baby than she was ready/able/prepared to give. I was humbled, and cast my judgements to the wind.
Now, once again, parenting Jeb puts a spin on my thoughts. I'm certainly not picking those judgements back up, in fact, I've become much better at not judging in general. Quite frankly, I don't much care to hear the reasons another woman feels the need to place. I trust she knows what she's doing, and only really think about the support I hope she has. (Obviously coercion, which I abhor, is another story.)
No, the spin parenting puts on it is just this: when I placed, I knew there was something, many things, many wonderful things Colin would get/experience from a stable household that I was not able to provide at the time. I didn't understand what those things were, but I knew they were real, and that he deserved them. It was his birth right to have parents who were bonkers to be his parents. Now, though? I get it. And so, it's wild for me to read blogs, or hear stories of women who were already parenting, and place a subsequent baby. They know. They know exactly what they are giving up. They know exactly what it feels like to snuggle, kiss, caress, love, cradle, nurse, lose your patience but regain it in that toddler's smile, etc. I know that those women's intentions are as pure as mine were, but their strength far exceeds the strength I needed back in 1998.
I'll reiterate, that for a woman feel the need to place a baby while she's parenting other children, is an especially incredible act of love. I wonder though, how that changes the experience of the adoptee. Does that throw an extra question mark into the adoptee's process? Again, no judgements, I am only wondering. Anyone who has read my previous posts, knows that my birthson struggles with the fact that he's adopted, so I am certainly on no High Horse.
Over the years I have learned that adoptees feel a range of emotion about their situations, and I've come to conclude there really is no sure fire way to make an adoptee feel peachy about the whole thing. Many do, don't get me wrong, but it's impossible to tell at the moment of placement how that child will cope with it later in life.
I think I've answered my own question. You just don't know, so you do your best.
I looked at the woman who had placed 3 times and thought: How in the world did you keep letting this happen?
I looked at the woman who was already parenting several children and thought: Really? This is the one you can't handle? How is that child going to feel years from now knowing his siblings were cool to "keep", but he wasn't?
I looked at the married couple and raged: Holy crap! If I had been remotely close to marriage I would never have given my son away! How is your kid going to handle that?
It took me about an afternoon to notice that despite different circumstances, there was a universal theme. Every single woman there placed because she didn't feel ready/able/prepared to parent her baby. Every single woman there wanted a different life for her baby than she was ready/able/prepared to give. I was humbled, and cast my judgements to the wind.
Now, once again, parenting Jeb puts a spin on my thoughts. I'm certainly not picking those judgements back up, in fact, I've become much better at not judging in general. Quite frankly, I don't much care to hear the reasons another woman feels the need to place. I trust she knows what she's doing, and only really think about the support I hope she has. (Obviously coercion, which I abhor, is another story.)
No, the spin parenting puts on it is just this: when I placed, I knew there was something, many things, many wonderful things Colin would get/experience from a stable household that I was not able to provide at the time. I didn't understand what those things were, but I knew they were real, and that he deserved them. It was his birth right to have parents who were bonkers to be his parents. Now, though? I get it. And so, it's wild for me to read blogs, or hear stories of women who were already parenting, and place a subsequent baby. They know. They know exactly what they are giving up. They know exactly what it feels like to snuggle, kiss, caress, love, cradle, nurse, lose your patience but regain it in that toddler's smile, etc. I know that those women's intentions are as pure as mine were, but their strength far exceeds the strength I needed back in 1998.
I'll reiterate, that for a woman feel the need to place a baby while she's parenting other children, is an especially incredible act of love. I wonder though, how that changes the experience of the adoptee. Does that throw an extra question mark into the adoptee's process? Again, no judgements, I am only wondering. Anyone who has read my previous posts, knows that my birthson struggles with the fact that he's adopted, so I am certainly on no High Horse.
Over the years I have learned that adoptees feel a range of emotion about their situations, and I've come to conclude there really is no sure fire way to make an adoptee feel peachy about the whole thing. Many do, don't get me wrong, but it's impossible to tell at the moment of placement how that child will cope with it later in life.
I think I've answered my own question. You just don't know, so you do your best.
Saturday, January 16, 2010
#12
I've been thinking a lot about the most recent Open Adoption Round Table discussion: How do we want to be proactive in our adoption relationships this year?
This topic speaks to me right now, because it's recently started to dawn on me that our relationship isn't what I wanted for us--- not completely.
In the early years, it was much easier to stay close. We all had less going on, and the adoption was more of a focal point in all of our lives. As is supposed to happen over time, the adoption and the relationship became our Normal. We all relaxed a little. We became a touch complacent. It felt good for the intensity to subside some, you can't live you're whole life in the emotionally charged state the first years of an open adoption demands.
I feel like we've maybe become a little too relaxed. I am frustrated that I initiate the majority of the phone calls, and I can count on one hand the number of times they've visited me; I've visited them at least twice as many times. I'm not saying all this to demonstrated a "score". Until I had Jeb, I really didn't mind the imbalance. I figured when it was me who had a Little One the balance would tip back, but it has not. Parenting Jeb has allowed me much less time to call and visit, so our over all contact has really decreased over the last 2-3 years. In hind sight, I should have spoken up about my needs and expectations, but I assumed they would fill in the gap. (Remember what they say about assuming?!)
I've been walking around feeling kind of frustrated and hurt, but I couldn't put my finger on why. I know that I am important to Colin's parents, I know that they love me and love that I am a part of their lives. When I tease out the emotions of it, I am left feeling like they don't put as much effort into the relationship as I have. But again, I also have the responsibility to speak up. This relationship is like any other: it is no perpetual motion machine.
Colin will be 12 this year. We are coming into a very important age; we are obligated to clear out the cobwebs, reestablish good and honest communication, and recommit to our philosophy of standing together to support Colin. Thankfully we have a great foundation, so I know we'll get there.
I told Colin I was going to try to visit in Jan or Feb. I feel totally overwhelmed at the thought of trying to squeeze a visit into our already jam-packed daily life, but I'm starting to think this will be one of the more important visits we'll have.
So how am I going to be proactive? By getting back to the basics. Communication 101.
This topic speaks to me right now, because it's recently started to dawn on me that our relationship isn't what I wanted for us--- not completely.
In the early years, it was much easier to stay close. We all had less going on, and the adoption was more of a focal point in all of our lives. As is supposed to happen over time, the adoption and the relationship became our Normal. We all relaxed a little. We became a touch complacent. It felt good for the intensity to subside some, you can't live you're whole life in the emotionally charged state the first years of an open adoption demands.
I feel like we've maybe become a little too relaxed. I am frustrated that I initiate the majority of the phone calls, and I can count on one hand the number of times they've visited me; I've visited them at least twice as many times. I'm not saying all this to demonstrated a "score". Until I had Jeb, I really didn't mind the imbalance. I figured when it was me who had a Little One the balance would tip back, but it has not. Parenting Jeb has allowed me much less time to call and visit, so our over all contact has really decreased over the last 2-3 years. In hind sight, I should have spoken up about my needs and expectations, but I assumed they would fill in the gap. (Remember what they say about assuming?!)
I've been walking around feeling kind of frustrated and hurt, but I couldn't put my finger on why. I know that I am important to Colin's parents, I know that they love me and love that I am a part of their lives. When I tease out the emotions of it, I am left feeling like they don't put as much effort into the relationship as I have. But again, I also have the responsibility to speak up. This relationship is like any other: it is no perpetual motion machine.
Colin will be 12 this year. We are coming into a very important age; we are obligated to clear out the cobwebs, reestablish good and honest communication, and recommit to our philosophy of standing together to support Colin. Thankfully we have a great foundation, so I know we'll get there.
I told Colin I was going to try to visit in Jan or Feb. I feel totally overwhelmed at the thought of trying to squeeze a visit into our already jam-packed daily life, but I'm starting to think this will be one of the more important visits we'll have.
So how am I going to be proactive? By getting back to the basics. Communication 101.
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Modern Technology and Open Adoption
Colin is 11.5 years old(!), and he got his very own cell phone for Christmas. He is ecstatic, and so am I. A couple of months ago he gave me his email address, so we have been emailing, which I love love love. Now we can call and text each other ad lib. Not that I couldn't already call him whenever I wanted, or vice versa, but this feels different. I like it. His parents and I developed this strong foundation with a common goal: that one day, Colin and I would have our own relationship. Up until recently, the primary relationship has been between his parents and me, which is obviously how it should be. Colin is now at an age that we can really start to get to know one another. His parents are comfortable with all of this, of course. In fact, I plan on calling his mom just to let her know how excited I am about this new phase, but also to reinforce that I would never do/say/imply anything that is in disagreeance with what we have all been teaching Colin about our relationships and adoption in general. I also know that it will sound redundant to her. She will appreciate the gesture, but she knows that I know, and I know that she knows that I know... get it? It's how we roll; it's why it takes 11 years to get to this point.
I can tell that Colin is excited for us to have this kind of "independent" communication :)
This is all a fantastic indication that we've been doing something right for the last decade!
Hard work? It pays off.
I can tell that Colin is excited for us to have this kind of "independent" communication :)
This is all a fantastic indication that we've been doing something right for the last decade!
Hard work? It pays off.
Saturday, November 28, 2009
Adoption and Loss (I know, how original.)
I've been thinking a lot about the things I want to write about, but I've been blocked on how to formulate a post. I feel like there has been a lack of the emotional-happy-squishy component in my posts. (It's probably because I read many newly adopted blogs, in which the emotional-happy-squishy index is incredibly high ;) )It's not that my situation is not happy, I suppose it's that the things that I am processing are some of the flip sides. I'm really happy; I guess that part is sufficiently processed for now.
I've been thinking a lot about the adoptee's sense of loss. We all know about how each member of the triad feels loss, but the adoptee's feels especially hard because they were the only member not making any decisions. Please, don't get me wrong, this is so not going to be anti-adoption. The logistics are what they are, no newborn has much say in much of anything. But I feel really shitty about the fact that originally I hadn't given much thought, at all, to what C might feel in terms of loss. I started giving it some thought when he was around 5. And even then, I always thought: yeah, but we'll explain why I couldn't parent and he'll get it, and thank us all profusely while we ride off into the sunset!
Well, my son feels loss. I've explained to him why I couldn't parent, and he gets it as much as he can without being a pregnant teenager; but he is still really, really sad about it. All of our fantastic intentions, support, and love haven't neutralized his sense of missing and wanting to be with his first family. I can see in his eyes that when he asks "why?" he doesn't want to hear about teen single parenting, he's asking the much bigger, sadder, harder to answer "WHY?!" as in "why did this have to be my story?". He feels the injustice of not having something so basic --- the experience of staying in his first mama's arms. My boy struggles with it. A baby's future temperament is an unknown at the time of newborn adoptions, but oh, I wish it were the one thing we could see with a crystal ball. Some adoptees feel the loss more acutely, some roll with it effortlessly. I do not mean to totally negate parenting, or support from the birthfamily, but I am learning that temperament/personality have much to do with it. My situation is a prefect example of that fact.
I spent the first couple of years post-placement in a very Black and White place, mentally. C was better off, aparents were thrilled, I was going to be able redirect my life, ect. Everything was great, we were all very kumbaya. It was an important part of the grief process, it was my own version of the denial stage. I remember the day my post-adopt counselor said to me "You can be happy for C, but simultaneously sad. You can feel both at once." I was floored. Getting to a place of being able to see both sides, the grey, was not only an important part of being emotionally healthy re: adoption, but it was an important part of moving through adolescence into adulthood.
So, I now revisit that lesson learned. It is incredibly hard to watch your kid struggle, at your hand. The flip side is that I know I made the best decision I knew how, with love and pure intentions. The grey is there in the middle; I find it by sitting with both truths.
My job now, is to acknowledge my son's loss, and show him the relationship we can have, even though it is not that of mama/son. My job is to teach him the lessons I have learned. My job is to help him appreciate the Grey.
I've been thinking a lot about the adoptee's sense of loss. We all know about how each member of the triad feels loss, but the adoptee's feels especially hard because they were the only member not making any decisions. Please, don't get me wrong, this is so not going to be anti-adoption. The logistics are what they are, no newborn has much say in much of anything. But I feel really shitty about the fact that originally I hadn't given much thought, at all, to what C might feel in terms of loss. I started giving it some thought when he was around 5. And even then, I always thought: yeah, but we'll explain why I couldn't parent and he'll get it, and thank us all profusely while we ride off into the sunset!
Well, my son feels loss. I've explained to him why I couldn't parent, and he gets it as much as he can without being a pregnant teenager; but he is still really, really sad about it. All of our fantastic intentions, support, and love haven't neutralized his sense of missing and wanting to be with his first family. I can see in his eyes that when he asks "why?" he doesn't want to hear about teen single parenting, he's asking the much bigger, sadder, harder to answer "WHY?!" as in "why did this have to be my story?". He feels the injustice of not having something so basic --- the experience of staying in his first mama's arms. My boy struggles with it. A baby's future temperament is an unknown at the time of newborn adoptions, but oh, I wish it were the one thing we could see with a crystal ball. Some adoptees feel the loss more acutely, some roll with it effortlessly. I do not mean to totally negate parenting, or support from the birthfamily, but I am learning that temperament/personality have much to do with it. My situation is a prefect example of that fact.
I spent the first couple of years post-placement in a very Black and White place, mentally. C was better off, aparents were thrilled, I was going to be able redirect my life, ect. Everything was great, we were all very kumbaya. It was an important part of the grief process, it was my own version of the denial stage. I remember the day my post-adopt counselor said to me "You can be happy for C, but simultaneously sad. You can feel both at once." I was floored. Getting to a place of being able to see both sides, the grey, was not only an important part of being emotionally healthy re: adoption, but it was an important part of moving through adolescence into adulthood.
So, I now revisit that lesson learned. It is incredibly hard to watch your kid struggle, at your hand. The flip side is that I know I made the best decision I knew how, with love and pure intentions. The grey is there in the middle; I find it by sitting with both truths.
My job now, is to acknowledge my son's loss, and show him the relationship we can have, even though it is not that of mama/son. My job is to teach him the lessons I have learned. My job is to help him appreciate the Grey.
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Weekend Recap
It was a rather, um, challenging weekend. We went to visit my first born, and were scheduled to speak on a panel at the Tristate Adoption Conference. I was really looking forward to sharing that experience with C, he was too young to participate when I was on the panel in years past.
Unfortunately there was some drama, details that need to remain private, and we did not make it to the conference.
I did manage to spend some good time with C; he is at such a cool age, just on the verge of adolescence. I am really enjoying this age! He is smitten with my 2 year old, and we make a big deal about the fact that they are brothers. C had a tough time when I was pregnant again, and playing up the Big Brother Role has really helped alleviate his fears that J would take his place in my heart. When he found out I was pregnant, he looked at me and asked "are you going to keep this one?", and I could see the hurt in his eyes when I told him "yes". Anyway, I digress...
By the end of the weekend, I was struggling to process some of the events, and I thought again about how we've become an extended family through open adoption. In every family, there are at times, hurt/disappointment/confusion. This family is no different, and it's foolish to think otherwise. It's tempting to get into the mindset that because my bond the adoptive parents is so sacred, that the relationship should be somehow more pure, void of pitfalls. But, it is still made up of people, which means there are going to be some.
I had (and still have) some angry moments, and that's OK. In the past I've been angry with my mother, my sister, or my husband, but it surely didn't break our relationship. This one is no different, because of a really beautiful fact: we are family. It is going to give us an amazing opportunity to role model to C how families deal with some tough stuff.
So, it certainly wasn't our best weekend together, but we'll get through, and all will be well.
Unfortunately there was some drama, details that need to remain private, and we did not make it to the conference.
I did manage to spend some good time with C; he is at such a cool age, just on the verge of adolescence. I am really enjoying this age! He is smitten with my 2 year old, and we make a big deal about the fact that they are brothers. C had a tough time when I was pregnant again, and playing up the Big Brother Role has really helped alleviate his fears that J would take his place in my heart. When he found out I was pregnant, he looked at me and asked "are you going to keep this one?", and I could see the hurt in his eyes when I told him "yes". Anyway, I digress...
By the end of the weekend, I was struggling to process some of the events, and I thought again about how we've become an extended family through open adoption. In every family, there are at times, hurt/disappointment/confusion. This family is no different, and it's foolish to think otherwise. It's tempting to get into the mindset that because my bond the adoptive parents is so sacred, that the relationship should be somehow more pure, void of pitfalls. But, it is still made up of people, which means there are going to be some.
I had (and still have) some angry moments, and that's OK. In the past I've been angry with my mother, my sister, or my husband, but it surely didn't break our relationship. This one is no different, because of a really beautiful fact: we are family. It is going to give us an amazing opportunity to role model to C how families deal with some tough stuff.
So, it certainly wasn't our best weekend together, but we'll get through, and all will be well.
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