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?
Showing posts with label adoption. Show all posts
Showing posts with label adoption. Show all posts
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
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 :)
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.
Thursday, September 2, 2010
Nature v Nurture: A Big Issue Even in Bio Families
Obviously adoption puts an additional spin on the nature v nurture discussion, but it's also a very interesting phenomenon within non-adoptive families.
I think about it a lot. I am coming to the conclusion, more and more, that Jeb has more influence on who I am as a parent, than I have on him as a child.
I'll say that again in another way: My motherhood adapts to Jeb's personality/needs/tendencies, it has not formed Jeb's personality/needs/tendencies.
I started having this feeling in the first couple months of his life. I had all kinds of academic parenting philosophies. And then I was blessed with a child who would not be put down. And slept like shit. And wanted to nurse non stop. So I became that mom in short order; the one who held her baby all the time, and also slept like shit, and nursed her baby anywhere and everywhere. I didn't turn Jeb into that baby, he was born that baby.
He is still that kid. His favorite place is in my lap. I'm sure he would still be nursing had I not weaned. He still sleeps like shit. It's just him. Bennett and I have abandoned many of the theories-that-sound-awesome-until-you-know-the-reality-of-day-to-day-parenting. We've become the parents who Jeb needs, not the other way around.
We actually have had very little effect on who the core of Jeb is. Sure, we've taught him good manners, and appropriate behavior ect, but that doesn't have much to do with who he is as a person. I haven't created his fantastic temperament, or concern for people in distress, or his sense of humor. I like to think we've given him a strong, secure foundation, so that his best traits can shine. I believe that we've created an environment where he is not stressed, but rather curious and playful, which contributes to the development of his smarts and imagination --- but it doesn't create those qualities, those are his.
I was musing to a friend (who has 2 daughters) about Jeb's absolute obsession with basketball, and she made an off hand comment about "conditioning" boys' love of sports. It wasn't mean spirited, but it couldn't have been more wrong. I could care less about basketball, and I don't think my husband has shot a basket since junior high gym class. We've never even followed March Madness. I had nothing to do with 10 month old Jeb pointing at every single basketball hoop in the neighborhood. He is passionate about basketball. And skateboards. And backhoes. And so many other things that I also had nothing to do with.
I wouldn't even dream of crediting myself with this stuff, I love learning about him, I'm not interested in molding him in that way. There are things I do want to "mold": compassion, respect for others, healthy self esteem, determination, you know... all that good stuff. But not his interests. Not his personality. Not his goals.
The other day Jeb said something to my husband that was incredibly sweet and compassionate, and I said to my husband (like I do about 20 times a day), "Isn't he just amazing?!" And my husband said "That's all you, babe, he's so great because you do such a good job with him". I loved the compliment at the time, but the more I thought about it, I couldn't really take credit in good faith. Jeb could have been a tough kid, but he's not. My next kid could be a really tough kid. Hopefully I'll be able to create the same environment and boundaries to instill the same values I'm trying to instill in Jeb, if that's the case.
My mother in law constantly want to assign Jeb's traits to one of his ancestors. He loves cucumbers! His great grandmother loves cucumbers! That's where he gets it from!! So, if the neighbor kid loves cucumbers is he surely a distant relative? I don't really play that game; it kind of annoys me.
Being a birthmom, I sometimes think about what Jeb would be like if he had been parented by other people. It's not a weird thought since my reality is that other people sometimes raise my kid. You know what? He'd be basically the same kid. Any other woman who raised him in a loving home would marvel at his mild temperament, and his love of snuggling. And I'm sure someone in that family would like cucumbers.
It's a comforting thought, to me. My job is to guide, love, and support. I can do that.
(In the unlikely even that my MIL reads this: that wasn't a dig :))
I think about it a lot. I am coming to the conclusion, more and more, that Jeb has more influence on who I am as a parent, than I have on him as a child.
I'll say that again in another way: My motherhood adapts to Jeb's personality/needs/tendencies, it has not formed Jeb's personality/needs/tendencies.
I started having this feeling in the first couple months of his life. I had all kinds of academic parenting philosophies. And then I was blessed with a child who would not be put down. And slept like shit. And wanted to nurse non stop. So I became that mom in short order; the one who held her baby all the time, and also slept like shit, and nursed her baby anywhere and everywhere. I didn't turn Jeb into that baby, he was born that baby.
He is still that kid. His favorite place is in my lap. I'm sure he would still be nursing had I not weaned. He still sleeps like shit. It's just him. Bennett and I have abandoned many of the theories-that-sound-awesome-until-you-know-the-reality-of-day-to-day-parenting. We've become the parents who Jeb needs, not the other way around.
We actually have had very little effect on who the core of Jeb is. Sure, we've taught him good manners, and appropriate behavior ect, but that doesn't have much to do with who he is as a person. I haven't created his fantastic temperament, or concern for people in distress, or his sense of humor. I like to think we've given him a strong, secure foundation, so that his best traits can shine. I believe that we've created an environment where he is not stressed, but rather curious and playful, which contributes to the development of his smarts and imagination --- but it doesn't create those qualities, those are his.
I was musing to a friend (who has 2 daughters) about Jeb's absolute obsession with basketball, and she made an off hand comment about "conditioning" boys' love of sports. It wasn't mean spirited, but it couldn't have been more wrong. I could care less about basketball, and I don't think my husband has shot a basket since junior high gym class. We've never even followed March Madness. I had nothing to do with 10 month old Jeb pointing at every single basketball hoop in the neighborhood. He is passionate about basketball. And skateboards. And backhoes. And so many other things that I also had nothing to do with.
I wouldn't even dream of crediting myself with this stuff, I love learning about him, I'm not interested in molding him in that way. There are things I do want to "mold": compassion, respect for others, healthy self esteem, determination, you know... all that good stuff. But not his interests. Not his personality. Not his goals.
The other day Jeb said something to my husband that was incredibly sweet and compassionate, and I said to my husband (like I do about 20 times a day), "Isn't he just amazing?!" And my husband said "That's all you, babe, he's so great because you do such a good job with him". I loved the compliment at the time, but the more I thought about it, I couldn't really take credit in good faith. Jeb could have been a tough kid, but he's not. My next kid could be a really tough kid. Hopefully I'll be able to create the same environment and boundaries to instill the same values I'm trying to instill in Jeb, if that's the case.
My mother in law constantly want to assign Jeb's traits to one of his ancestors. He loves cucumbers! His great grandmother loves cucumbers! That's where he gets it from!! So, if the neighbor kid loves cucumbers is he surely a distant relative? I don't really play that game; it kind of annoys me.
Being a birthmom, I sometimes think about what Jeb would be like if he had been parented by other people. It's not a weird thought since my reality is that other people sometimes raise my kid. You know what? He'd be basically the same kid. Any other woman who raised him in a loving home would marvel at his mild temperament, and his love of snuggling. And I'm sure someone in that family would like cucumbers.
It's a comforting thought, to me. My job is to guide, love, and support. I can do that.
(In the unlikely even that my MIL reads this: that wasn't a dig :))
Thursday, August 12, 2010
TPR too early.
(Warning: a good bit of F bombs are dropped. I couldn't help it.)
It's been a while since I've written anything of substance. My work schedule sucked for the last week, and before that I was just plain hot and tired. I'm now on a mini vacay, and had lots of things I wanted to post about, just for my own record. This summer has been awesome, and I want to have as many memories recorded as possible.
And then, I read about a potential adoption and TPR "hopefully happening this weekend before discharge". This was written before the baby was even BORN.
I'd heard about TPR being signed in the hospital before, maybe 10+ years ago, and it seemed so barbaric, I was sure it had been done away with.
I am birthmother who was VERY confident and OK with her decision, so there's not terribly much I get up in arms about wrt adoption. I feel like I can appreciate each side, even though I've only lived 1 side.
I can hope to understand an adoptee's sense of loss, and I can hope to understand an adopter's sense of longing, and I try to only LISTEN when those members speak.
HOW CAN NO ONE SEE THAT ASKING A WOMAN TO SIGN TPR 2 DAYS AFTER GIVING BIRTH IS JUST WRONG?
First, the hormonal TSUNAMI going on is reason alone not to make such an enormous decision!!! Let me say that again: 2 fucking days after giving birth? You are in a HORMONAL TSUNAMI. Remember those days of infertility drugs? Times that by about a million.
And what? Better get those papers signed before she changes her mind? UM! HELLO! And what? If she changes her mind a week later but the papers are already signed, what? We all do a collective "PHEW!" and pat ourselves on the back for "saving" her baby? Or worse, keeping the adoptive parents money? UN-FUCKING-ETHICAL. I'm going to say something radical: BIRTHMOM NEEDS THE TIME AND THE OPTION TO CHANGE HER MIND. SHE IS NOT A BIRTHMOM AT THE MOMENT OF BIRTH.
Thank God, I placed in Rhode Island. (A state that doesn't do much of anything right, imo, but does this right) According to RI law, I couldn't sign TPR until at least 30 days post birth. Colin's parents could take him, or if they were nervous about the risk and didn't want to take him until after, that was an option. I know the surface argument is about attachment and bonding and limbo, and they are all valid. Attachment, bonding, and aparents living in limbo are all very important things. But those things can still be accomplished and rectified while still giving the birthmom more than 2 damn days. I cannot fucking imagine sitting in a hospital bed, recovering from birth, bleeding, dripping milk, hormonal, vulnerable, not in my own environment, possibly completely ALONE, and having a fucking LAWYER give me papers and STAND over my hospital bed, while I don't even have actual CLOTHES on and ask me to make an irreversible decision about my baby.
UNETHICAL.
TPR should be final, but not premature. I'm not advocating for the loosey-goosey laws that allow birthparents to fight for toddlers and destroy families. I'm talking about respect, and a reasonable amount of time so as to empower birth mothers. When I signed, I did not feel taken advantage of, I felt proactive, I felt like I was mindful and aware.
What? Are agencies too terrified that too many potential birth mothers will not place? Well shame on them.
Asking a woman to sign TPR in the hospital feels like Baby Stealing.
I'd love to hear any thoughts on this, as it is clearly my most trigger-y adoption issue.
It's been a while since I've written anything of substance. My work schedule sucked for the last week, and before that I was just plain hot and tired. I'm now on a mini vacay, and had lots of things I wanted to post about, just for my own record. This summer has been awesome, and I want to have as many memories recorded as possible.
And then, I read about a potential adoption and TPR "hopefully happening this weekend before discharge". This was written before the baby was even BORN.
I'd heard about TPR being signed in the hospital before, maybe 10+ years ago, and it seemed so barbaric, I was sure it had been done away with.
I am birthmother who was VERY confident and OK with her decision, so there's not terribly much I get up in arms about wrt adoption. I feel like I can appreciate each side, even though I've only lived 1 side.
I can hope to understand an adoptee's sense of loss, and I can hope to understand an adopter's sense of longing, and I try to only LISTEN when those members speak.
HOW CAN NO ONE SEE THAT ASKING A WOMAN TO SIGN TPR 2 DAYS AFTER GIVING BIRTH IS JUST WRONG?
First, the hormonal TSUNAMI going on is reason alone not to make such an enormous decision!!! Let me say that again: 2 fucking days after giving birth? You are in a HORMONAL TSUNAMI. Remember those days of infertility drugs? Times that by about a million.
And what? Better get those papers signed before she changes her mind? UM! HELLO! And what? If she changes her mind a week later but the papers are already signed, what? We all do a collective "PHEW!" and pat ourselves on the back for "saving" her baby? Or worse, keeping the adoptive parents money? UN-FUCKING-ETHICAL. I'm going to say something radical: BIRTHMOM NEEDS THE TIME AND THE OPTION TO CHANGE HER MIND. SHE IS NOT A BIRTHMOM AT THE MOMENT OF BIRTH.
Thank God, I placed in Rhode Island. (A state that doesn't do much of anything right, imo, but does this right) According to RI law, I couldn't sign TPR until at least 30 days post birth. Colin's parents could take him, or if they were nervous about the risk and didn't want to take him until after, that was an option. I know the surface argument is about attachment and bonding and limbo, and they are all valid. Attachment, bonding, and aparents living in limbo are all very important things. But those things can still be accomplished and rectified while still giving the birthmom more than 2 damn days. I cannot fucking imagine sitting in a hospital bed, recovering from birth, bleeding, dripping milk, hormonal, vulnerable, not in my own environment, possibly completely ALONE, and having a fucking LAWYER give me papers and STAND over my hospital bed, while I don't even have actual CLOTHES on and ask me to make an irreversible decision about my baby.
UNETHICAL.
TPR should be final, but not premature. I'm not advocating for the loosey-goosey laws that allow birthparents to fight for toddlers and destroy families. I'm talking about respect, and a reasonable amount of time so as to empower birth mothers. When I signed, I did not feel taken advantage of, I felt proactive, I felt like I was mindful and aware.
What? Are agencies too terrified that too many potential birth mothers will not place? Well shame on them.
Asking a woman to sign TPR in the hospital feels like Baby Stealing.
I'd love to hear any thoughts on this, as it is clearly my most trigger-y adoption issue.
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.
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
There should be a secret handshake.
Next door to me lives a family with a 2 year old. The boy joined their family through adoption, which is obvious because it's a transracial adoption. I only mention this because adoption has never come up in conversation, but I know he's adopted. They are super nice, and we run into each other often because we are always out playing in the yard. We frequently make the nice neighbor small talk, and talk about the boys who get along great. We only moved here in September, and our relationship is still very much an "acquaintanceship" and not quiet "friendship". I really like them, and really hope that we get closer and maybe become good friends, but it takes time. I'm rambling. Anyway, I outed my birthmotherhood to Mrs. Neighbor this week. I'd always wanted to share with them that I'm a member of the triad, too, but I was waiting for the right moment, kwim? So the other day the boys were running through the sprinkler together and we were chatting, and I kind of just blurted out "I'm a birthmother, I have a 12 year old as well, and we have an open adoption". Well, then it got kind of awkward. Mrs. Neighbor was super nice, as always, and said some nice things about open adoption (theirs is not open), and then it was quiet and then the subject changed. I was feeling sheepish, and suddenly started questioning myself why have I wanted to share this with her so badly?! What an idiot I am! But really, I wanted to tell her so badly because they are such a great family and I am so thrilled for them and I wanted them to know that I'm cool and and and.... I don't know. In my fantasy, we would hold hands and jump and laugh and talk about how much we love our kids and she would be so happy to live next door to someone who "gets it" about adoption.
I feel like such a dork.
There should be a special wink, or nod, or handshake so as to avoid awkward "outings".
I feel like such a dork.
There should be a special wink, or nod, or handshake so as to avoid awkward "outings".
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."
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Father's Day :)
I am so excited for Father's Day this year. I think I enjoy Father's Day even more than I enjoy Mother's Day. I love celebrating B even more than I love being celebrated. He is such a fantastic father, it makes me tear up to think about it.
My father was/is not very good. He's got some issues that prevent him from being a very good dad. That is my non-angry way of explaining it. We haven't had a relationship in years. (How cliche: birthmom had shitty dad and then slept around looking for approval from men. Pretty textbook, eh?) For years Father's Day made me kind of sad. I wanted the kind of dad who deserved being celebrated. I wanted all that father-daughter-y shit.
I was 18 weeks pregnant for B's "first" Father's Day. In my mind, I had all kinds of ideas about how different Father's Days would be from then on. Well, B chose to go away for a "guys weekend". I flipped. It was a major communication snafu, and throw in some pregnancy hormones? It wasn't pretty. The last 2 Father's Days have been much better, and much less dramatic ;)
I feel like one of the best things I've done for Jeb is to give him a good father. It was one of the big reasons I placed Colin; his birthdad and I were never going to create a stable home together. I sometimes get jealous of people who have awesome dads, and ensuring my kids have one has been really healing on that front. You know that whole notion about wanting your kids to have more/better than you did? Well, for me, that means giving my kids a good dad. And I have. And I'm really proud of him, but also of myself for that.
So, this weekend, I have a couple of surprises in store for B, and I can't wait! Jeb is going on a sleep over at my mother-in-law's on Sat night. This will be his first sleep over at her house (he's done a couple at my mom's) and they are both so excited they can't see straight. I made dinner reservations at B's fav seafood restaurant, and then we're going for drinks at a dock-side bar on the water in our city. I have a cute sun dress all picked out, and the forecast looks terrific. I got him a great new Hawaiian shirt (he's mental for them), and am taking him to get a set of (used) golf clubs. He's been wanting a set of his own. Sunday will be a lazy family day.... perfection.
My father was/is not very good. He's got some issues that prevent him from being a very good dad. That is my non-angry way of explaining it. We haven't had a relationship in years. (How cliche: birthmom had shitty dad and then slept around looking for approval from men. Pretty textbook, eh?) For years Father's Day made me kind of sad. I wanted the kind of dad who deserved being celebrated. I wanted all that father-daughter-y shit.
I was 18 weeks pregnant for B's "first" Father's Day. In my mind, I had all kinds of ideas about how different Father's Days would be from then on. Well, B chose to go away for a "guys weekend". I flipped. It was a major communication snafu, and throw in some pregnancy hormones? It wasn't pretty. The last 2 Father's Days have been much better, and much less dramatic ;)
I feel like one of the best things I've done for Jeb is to give him a good father. It was one of the big reasons I placed Colin; his birthdad and I were never going to create a stable home together. I sometimes get jealous of people who have awesome dads, and ensuring my kids have one has been really healing on that front. You know that whole notion about wanting your kids to have more/better than you did? Well, for me, that means giving my kids a good dad. And I have. And I'm really proud of him, but also of myself for that.
So, this weekend, I have a couple of surprises in store for B, and I can't wait! Jeb is going on a sleep over at my mother-in-law's on Sat night. This will be his first sleep over at her house (he's done a couple at my mom's) and they are both so excited they can't see straight. I made dinner reservations at B's fav seafood restaurant, and then we're going for drinks at a dock-side bar on the water in our city. I have a cute sun dress all picked out, and the forecast looks terrific. I got him a great new Hawaiian shirt (he's mental for them), and am taking him to get a set of (used) golf clubs. He's been wanting a set of his own. Sunday will be a lazy family day.... perfection.
Thursday, April 29, 2010
A response to another's post.
I have been mulling over and over in my head whether or not to do this, to respond full-post-style to this post over at The Adoptive Parent. I first read the post a few days ago, and it's been bugging me ever since, so I decided to go for it.
I really like that blog, and Sally, especially since I won her book ;). So nothing I'm saying here is meant to offend. One of the reasons I really liked her book was that it gave me a terrific view into an adoptive mom's head and heart. It's a perspective I'll never know; even if I were to adopt in the future, it wouldn't be the same. I rely on people like Sally to tell me what it's like to be an amom, and I believe what they tell me.
Her post about birthparents really did not give us the same respect.
S: Honestly, I don't understand making that decision.
This Birthmom: Understandable. It's one of those things you can't understand until you're there.
S: You chose to walk out of your child's life because you love them?
TB: Actually, yes. It's more complicated than that, but at the root, yes.
S: Tell me you took on two jobs to make ends meet, etc...
TB: Wow, what a slap in the face. Are you saying you don't find my expression of love worthy? I should have done any of the things you wrote to prove my love? This felt very judgemental.
S: My point is that I believe birth parents love their children, but I don't believe that's why they choose adoption.
TB: Why wouldn't you believe what birth parents tell you? We are not able to articulate our own feelings? It's pretty condescending to assume you know better what we mean than we do. If your child's birthmom explains to him that she placed out of love, are you going to correct her?
S: I believe that birth parents choose adoption not because they love their children, but in spite of how much they love their children.
TB: Nope, again. It is possible to place a baby because you love him.
S: It is a matter of putting your child's needs in place of your own. Choosing adoption means choosing to meet your child's needs instead of your own.
TB: Placing my son for adoption met needs I had, too. Maybe it sounds harsh, but I would not have been able to direct my life the way I wanted to, and meet my full potential while parenting at that time. That was a big part of my decision.
At the beginning of her post, she initially admitted that she didn't understand making the decision to place. So, why is she turning things all around? To make sense of it in her own head? You don't have to understand this thing to respect it. It doesn't make sense, to on one hand say that you don't understand something, and then on the other go to great lengths to explain it, almost from a birth mother's perspective. Please, don't interpret what I say, just hear it.
There is no way for an amom to put herself in the shoes of a birthmom. Placing a baby is the polar opposite to infertility etc. If my reasons don't make sense to an amom, OK, so be it. But they are still my reasons. It's not that I'm confused, it's that we are coming at this thing from completely different angles, places, experiences, feelings, and circumstances.
I really really really, can't express enough how much I don't want this whole post to come off as angry or offensive. It's my reaction, and a contribution to the dialogue, that is all.
I really like that blog, and Sally, especially since I won her book ;). So nothing I'm saying here is meant to offend. One of the reasons I really liked her book was that it gave me a terrific view into an adoptive mom's head and heart. It's a perspective I'll never know; even if I were to adopt in the future, it wouldn't be the same. I rely on people like Sally to tell me what it's like to be an amom, and I believe what they tell me.
Her post about birthparents really did not give us the same respect.
S: Honestly, I don't understand making that decision.
This Birthmom: Understandable. It's one of those things you can't understand until you're there.
S: You chose to walk out of your child's life because you love them?
TB: Actually, yes. It's more complicated than that, but at the root, yes.
S: Tell me you took on two jobs to make ends meet, etc...
TB: Wow, what a slap in the face. Are you saying you don't find my expression of love worthy? I should have done any of the things you wrote to prove my love? This felt very judgemental.
S: My point is that I believe birth parents love their children, but I don't believe that's why they choose adoption.
TB: Why wouldn't you believe what birth parents tell you? We are not able to articulate our own feelings? It's pretty condescending to assume you know better what we mean than we do. If your child's birthmom explains to him that she placed out of love, are you going to correct her?
S: I believe that birth parents choose adoption not because they love their children, but in spite of how much they love their children.
TB: Nope, again. It is possible to place a baby because you love him.
S: It is a matter of putting your child's needs in place of your own. Choosing adoption means choosing to meet your child's needs instead of your own.
TB: Placing my son for adoption met needs I had, too. Maybe it sounds harsh, but I would not have been able to direct my life the way I wanted to, and meet my full potential while parenting at that time. That was a big part of my decision.
At the beginning of her post, she initially admitted that she didn't understand making the decision to place. So, why is she turning things all around? To make sense of it in her own head? You don't have to understand this thing to respect it. It doesn't make sense, to on one hand say that you don't understand something, and then on the other go to great lengths to explain it, almost from a birth mother's perspective. Please, don't interpret what I say, just hear it.
There is no way for an amom to put herself in the shoes of a birthmom. Placing a baby is the polar opposite to infertility etc. If my reasons don't make sense to an amom, OK, so be it. But they are still my reasons. It's not that I'm confused, it's that we are coming at this thing from completely different angles, places, experiences, feelings, and circumstances.
I really really really, can't express enough how much I don't want this whole post to come off as angry or offensive. It's my reaction, and a contribution to the dialogue, that is all.
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.
Thursday, November 19, 2009
Winding down the Latent Phase
Early in my birthmotherhood, I learned a lot about some of the typical developmental stages adoptees tend to move through. For example, 4 year olds tends to be very public about their adoption, and proud to share their story. I remember the adoption educators talking a lot about the Latent Phase that shows up in early school age; like around 6 or 7. The Latent Phase got a lot of attention, as it is important to know how to handle the child's need for privacy, but also not deny reality. My birthson certainly followed suite. When I went to a function at his kindergarten, he yelled across the room "There's my birthmother!". By first or second grade, he didn't want to talk about much at all, including with me. This was all well and good, and we all patted ourselves on the back for being so well prepared to support him in whatever way he needed at each stage.
What I didn't hear about, or think about, was going through my own phases. I have to say, they tend to mirror my boy's. For the first 5 years post-placement, I was an Adoption Crusader. I read books, and could drop names of all the important adoption authors. I could speak to the various philosophies even with in the Open Adoption community. I spoke on panels at conferences. I attended Birthmother Retreats. I would educate anyone and everyone who gave me the opportunity. I told my story as often as possible, careful to use the "correct" terminology. I wrote papers about adoption in college. I felt proud to be a well adjusted, educated, "normal" birthmom whose involvement in her son's life was beneficial to him. I don't think I was pushy, but I was certainly knowledgeable, and really wanted to spread the word: Open Adoption is a really great thing.
Then, I entered my own Latent Phase. I wasn't so much weary of trying to educate people, it had just become enough of my norm that the fiery passion had subsided a tad. In it's place had grown a much deeper relationship with my son's parents, and a deeper comfort level with having a balanced life in which Birthmotherhood was just one component of my identity. I had also gotten tired of the same superficial questions: who named him? was it hard? what if he shows up on your doorstep and wants to live with you when he's 12? (*yawn* they did. yes. I'll call his mother just like I would if any other 12 year old shows up at my house wanting to live with me.) I got quiet about my story right around the time my boy did. In fact, I remember having a conversation with my boy's adad about this and it seemed he was going through the same thing. He shared a story in which a co-worker asked him some typical question and adad replied "It just works, trust me." where as in years past he would have taken the opportunity to get into a long conversation and educate.
I feel like I am in a new phase, I'll call it the Reemerging Phase. It started when I became a full-fledged mama almost 2 years ago. My parenthood has put a whole new spin on my thoughts and feelings on adoption. I have an appreciation for D's (amom)experience like never before. I think about her more than ever. I worry about C's process in a different way. When I placed him, I knew that was an act of love; I knew there would be better opportunities and support for him, but that was all I knew. I didn't understand the specifics, I couldn't see beyond that veil. I didn't understand mama love, but I knew I wasn't ready or able to provide it. My parenthood has now been the ultimate lens. And I feel like I want to go back over the last 11 years with my new lens. I want to see every detail, relive every moment, with my new found understanding of the reason I made this choice.
My bigger point with this post, is that I'm back. I want back into the community that I drifted away from. This weekend I'll be speaking, with my first son by my side, on a panel at a conference that I attended yearly until 2004 and haven't been back to since. I thought my absence was due to schedules/money/career/whathaveyou, but I'm thinking it was just me working through my Latent Phase. I feel a little nervous to be back, and surprised that there are all new thoughts and feelings to be processed, more than a decade after I gently placed my son in another woman's arms.
Man, adoption truly is a journey.
What I didn't hear about, or think about, was going through my own phases. I have to say, they tend to mirror my boy's. For the first 5 years post-placement, I was an Adoption Crusader. I read books, and could drop names of all the important adoption authors. I could speak to the various philosophies even with in the Open Adoption community. I spoke on panels at conferences. I attended Birthmother Retreats. I would educate anyone and everyone who gave me the opportunity. I told my story as often as possible, careful to use the "correct" terminology. I wrote papers about adoption in college. I felt proud to be a well adjusted, educated, "normal" birthmom whose involvement in her son's life was beneficial to him. I don't think I was pushy, but I was certainly knowledgeable, and really wanted to spread the word: Open Adoption is a really great thing.
Then, I entered my own Latent Phase. I wasn't so much weary of trying to educate people, it had just become enough of my norm that the fiery passion had subsided a tad. In it's place had grown a much deeper relationship with my son's parents, and a deeper comfort level with having a balanced life in which Birthmotherhood was just one component of my identity. I had also gotten tired of the same superficial questions: who named him? was it hard? what if he shows up on your doorstep and wants to live with you when he's 12? (*yawn* they did. yes. I'll call his mother just like I would if any other 12 year old shows up at my house wanting to live with me.) I got quiet about my story right around the time my boy did. In fact, I remember having a conversation with my boy's adad about this and it seemed he was going through the same thing. He shared a story in which a co-worker asked him some typical question and adad replied "It just works, trust me." where as in years past he would have taken the opportunity to get into a long conversation and educate.
I feel like I am in a new phase, I'll call it the Reemerging Phase. It started when I became a full-fledged mama almost 2 years ago. My parenthood has put a whole new spin on my thoughts and feelings on adoption. I have an appreciation for D's (amom)experience like never before. I think about her more than ever. I worry about C's process in a different way. When I placed him, I knew that was an act of love; I knew there would be better opportunities and support for him, but that was all I knew. I didn't understand the specifics, I couldn't see beyond that veil. I didn't understand mama love, but I knew I wasn't ready or able to provide it. My parenthood has now been the ultimate lens. And I feel like I want to go back over the last 11 years with my new lens. I want to see every detail, relive every moment, with my new found understanding of the reason I made this choice.
My bigger point with this post, is that I'm back. I want back into the community that I drifted away from. This weekend I'll be speaking, with my first son by my side, on a panel at a conference that I attended yearly until 2004 and haven't been back to since. I thought my absence was due to schedules/money/career/whathaveyou, but I'm thinking it was just me working through my Latent Phase. I feel a little nervous to be back, and surprised that there are all new thoughts and feelings to be processed, more than a decade after I gently placed my son in another woman's arms.
Man, adoption truly is a journey.
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