tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-58816949362003448462024-03-13T14:25:29.478-04:00Surviving Adoption LossOff all the tragedies of life, surviving the loss of a child is the greatest to endure. Losing a child to adoption is no exception. Some argue that since her child is alive, the original mother is spared that grief. They think she is able to experience peace because her child is with a loving couple who would not have a family otherwise. This is a smokescreen. Walk thru the smokescreen and read what it's really like Surviving Adoption Loss from the original mom's side of the story.Cheerio!http://www.blogger.com/profile/00709663898726245342noreply@blogger.comBlogger155125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5881694936200344846.post-10823244314180217922023-05-14T10:38:00.000-04:002023-05-14T10:38:19.338-04:00The Dreaded 2nd Weekend of May<p> This year, 2023, we are at the beginning of our fifth year in reunion. It has been an incredible and amazing 4 years so far. </p><p><br /></p><p>I am keenly aware that this is not the normal experience. I have been shocked, blown away, and humbled of how close we all have become. I consider our reunion a rare priceless and precious gem.</p><p><br /></p><p>*****</p><p><br /></p><p>Today is the second weekend of May. I do not have any expectations or demands of my son on this weekend. </p><p><br /></p><p>Until reunion I used to work. </p><p>I welcomed the 3:00 a.m. shift on Sunday that would fry my little brain and I would sleep the rest of the day away after work. Most years I would focus on planting, gardening, and digging. Dirt therapy.</p><p><br /></p><p>This weekend my plans are simply plant all the seedlings I've started. Spend the time out in the dirt doing something I love to do. </p><p><br /></p><p>This morning while making scones before going back out into the flower gardens, I got a text from an adoptee friend. She wished me a happy mother's day and sent me the link to a podcast titled being adopted on mother's Day.</p><p><br /></p><p>This is one of my friends, so I followed the link and it was a 20 minute podcast. I got as far as her saying today is national birth mother's day. I let my guard down and I was triggered like I haven't been triggered in a very very long time. </p><p><br /></p><p>I stopped the podcast immediately and tried to resume making my scones, but I couldn't. I was angry I couldn't focus, could figure out what I was doing. I kept just walking back and forth in the kitchen.</p><p><br /></p><p>Now that I am a therapist and certified for treating trauma it eventually dawned on me what was happening. Those few words triggered me so much that the logical part of my brain was completely gone and it was the emotional part that was taking over it was taking me back to those times with so much pain, so much hurt, so much confusion, so much betrayal, so much isolation that I couldn't even think. This is a PTSD response. </p><p>Once I was aware of what was happening I started using some of the coping skills I teach to other people to bring myself back to a less distressed state. All the while I stood there and cried and cried and cried. Then I wept. Then I groaned and wept bitterly. This went on the maybe an hour - just letting the pain out. </p><p>After quite a will Mr Cheerio came into the kitchen and wrapped his arms around me and held me as I cried it out. I think it was his warm reassuring hug that helped me finally stop crying.</p><p><br /></p><p>Although our reunion is so incredibly amazing and beautiful and has been a healing balm to my wounded soul, it doesn't erase or remove or take away all those years of struggle, of hurting, of feeling so so alone, of self-hate, of the unknown if I would ever see him again, of wondering if he hated me as much as I hated myself for what I did to him - to us - to all of us.</p><p><br /></p><p>The Dreaded 2nd Weekend of May...I just want this he-- (no so much of a) holiday to just go away... Far far far away.</p><p><br /></p>Cheerio!http://www.blogger.com/profile/00709663898726245342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5881694936200344846.post-44657874454469990132021-05-09T16:07:00.001-04:002021-05-09T18:22:14.649-04:00Love You, Hate Me, that's Adoption<p>Today is Sunday 5/9/2021 – mother’s day. </p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I spent the day yesterday with my son and his wife (beginning our 3rd year in reunion). I always,
ALWAYS enjoy spending time with them. It was an invitation to visit on “mothers
day weekend”. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The kids (as I call them)
planned some very special surprise activities during the day creating incredibly
sweet and thoughtful memories, we went hiking, played games, and had good food.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I received so many gifts that day – the gift
of their love, the gift of their time, the gift of us making memories together,
A special gift that demands a post all of its own, and the gift of story time.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">During the day my son asked if I would be willing to share
his birth story again later in the day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Hasn’t he heard his birth story before? <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Well, yes. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Twice, kind of. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Knowing that adoptees often feel like their life’s story
starts on chapter two, I wrote out his birth story in a letter on his birthday
when he turned the same age I was when he was born, before our face to face reunion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And then just about two months ago he asked if
I would be willing to share it with him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>At the time I was caught a little off-guard and was really nervous sharing
his/our story.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">When I was actually sitting across from my own son and his
wife <i>telling him his birth story for the first time, </i>I was wrapped in
shame and regret, my heart was very heavy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I wanted so much to tell him a birth story the way most mothers would
share with their children, family, or friends. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wanted the story to be happy, and full of
celebration, and joy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Which is how it
should have been – but the cold hard fact is - it wasn’t.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His birth story culminated in the tragedy of
our separation, and there is nothing but sadness in that fact to me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">So that first time of verbally telling him his own story, I
started at <b>the beginning, </b>literally from when I went to the Dr’s for the
blood test until the hospital stay when he was born.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In that first telling, I included why I “<i>chose”</i>
adoption and what I believed then vs what I know now, such as realizing the
blank slate theory is a lie and the disguised coercion of adoption.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was so difficult telling his story that
time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was not able to have other children
so that is the only birth story I personally know and it ended up sad, so very
very painful and sad.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">At the end of that telling, he made some kind of statement like
“…the past…and…moving forward.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">It got me to thinking that, yes our separation was sad.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The coercion and brainwashing were awful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But not everything was sad or awful, after
all <b><i>HE</i></b> was born, perfect, and beautiful, and healthy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, since that first telling I started making
a list of fun or interesting facts about my pregnancy and our early months together
so when he asked to hear his birth story again, it did not have to be total
doom & gloom (which was the reality of my heart before reunion &
without him). And so that brings me back to yesterday.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am having lunch with my son (lost to
adoption for so many years, and is now including me & his original father
in his life) and he asks if we can do “story time” again later in the day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">And this time I was ready for him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">We were all four of us (me, my son, his original father, and
his wife) sitting together on the couch eating our chocolate pie dessert for “story
time” of his birth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This time I did not
feel a need to start at the <b>the beginning</b>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I pulled up my notes on my phone and talked
about where I worked while I was carrying him, the apartment “we” lived in, the
very mischievous young cat/kitten “we” had, “us” taking walks along the river, all
3 of “us” going for ice cream, and how he got his given name.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was sitting right beside me and I was able
to smile and say “I spent as much time as possible with you during those first
three days” and “I love you.” <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">And so here I am on mother’s day reflecting on yesterday and
all the meaning it had for me, for Mr Cheerio, for our son and his family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have ALWAYS loved him, ALWAYS, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><b>ALWAYS</b>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>That has been a constant through all the years, and that love has never
ever faded.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Looking back on his birth story/our story it is so
inter-twined with love and hate.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-40FqogM0LXs/YJg91B4TclI/AAAAAAAABRE/hSa4YhlOOhkWZJs0oeezis3l0XLWHUiDQCNcBGAsYHQ/s340/she%2Bloved.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="270" data-original-width="340" height="254" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-40FqogM0LXs/YJg91B4TclI/AAAAAAAABRE/hSa4YhlOOhkWZJs0oeezis3l0XLWHUiDQCNcBGAsYHQ/w320-h254/she%2Bloved.jpg" title="Image from https://www.etsy.com/listing/519336717/she-loved-a-little-boy-more-than-she?ref=related-1" width="320" /></a></div><br /><br /><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">This is what you don’t hear about adoption.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is not about us loving our child “more”
than ourself -- it is about making us hate ourself and love ourself LESS.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The adoption professionals <i>wanted and needed</i> for me
to hate myself so they could pitch “a loving couple” solution – to something
that was never a problem.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Why do we, as a society perpetuate the loved so much,
without recognizing that it also promotes self-hate so much…in a nutshell, that’s
adoption.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><i>love you, hate me, that's adoption</i></span></p>Cheerio!http://www.blogger.com/profile/00709663898726245342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5881694936200344846.post-6936969404003572112020-10-12T19:56:00.009-04:002021-06-27T18:05:57.095-04:00Why I concealed being a birthmother<p><span style="font-family: verdana;"> Why I do not open up about being a birth mother - an introspection</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[While going through papers, I found these pages ripped out of a spiral notebook. I have absoultely no idea when I wrote it. It may have been around 2014. Although I do not hide my 'status' anymore, it captures where I was at one point. It is part of my story, and I think it is still relevant.]</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Why do I conceal instead of open up?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Because it is something about myself that I hate,<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">and I cannot change it</span><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in;"></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">A substance abuser can change<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">and not be a substance abuser – “recovering
/ in recovery”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">An abuser can change, stop abusing<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">no longer an abuser<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">A liar, thief, selfish<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">a liar can stop lying<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">a thief can stop stealing<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">a selfish person can stop being self-centered
and learn to give<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">No Matter what I do or not do<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">I will never find<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">a way to cease being _____ a birth
mother<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">There are people with disabilities that cannot be changed
either<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">A person with dwarfism will always
be a person of short stature<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">But the dwarf did not choose this–
it happened without any decisions of his/her own<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Not all disabilities or handicaps are from birth<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Accidents may result in a person
losing their sight, their limb(s), their ability to walk, talk, or even feed themselves<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Perhaps they are permanently
disfigured<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">I guess that’s it, this<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Being a birth mother<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>is<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>an<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>emotional disability<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">So, this emotional disability – is internal,
unseen from those who pass by.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">We recognize the signs of physical
disabilities:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">a blind person uses a cane or
service dog, <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">a paraplegic is in a wheelchair<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">scars or deformities that are not
covered with clothing<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">But emotional disabilities, signs
of it are only seen by the very astute.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">People with disabilities are often<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">labeled,<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">misunderstood, <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">ridiculed, <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">mocked, <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">marginalized, <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">scorned, <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">dismissed, <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">stereotyped, &<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>judged.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">So, why would I want to expose this handicap, this emotional
disability to the reviling of others?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">It would be like gathering tinder
and sticks and arranging them around a post I’ve hoisted up, where they will
surely burn me – not physically, but emotionally burn me at the stake.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(I can predict the reactions) <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">When you ask me to open up – this is what you ask me to do<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">I am who I am<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Being a birth mother is something
that has disfigured and painfully marred my life,<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">But I cannot change that<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">If I remove the veil so you can see the emotional scars <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">– can YOU be trusted with the burning
torch in your hand?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><o:p> </o:p><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-z6zMLyfmrTw/X4TsTP4mzWI/AAAAAAAABAU/H9-53ox6sekD7sr-XiickjYd1li8alJQwCNcBGAsYHQ/s1035/Torch.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="666" data-original-width="1035" height="258" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-z6zMLyfmrTw/X4TsTP4mzWI/AAAAAAAABAU/H9-53ox6sekD7sr-XiickjYd1li8alJQwCNcBGAsYHQ/w400-h258/Torch.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">I care too much, not about what people think about me, but about
what they will say to me.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">I did not make a “loving, selfless
choice” as you believe<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">My son’s adoption was not a baby “saved
from abortion”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">It is not a “beautiful thing” or a “win-win”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">[being told these things used to sting, but now they just make me angry </span><span style="font-family: helvetica;">because they are lies, lies, lies that people WANT to believe] </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">NO! It has been two decades of excruciating pain and torment<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">And you want me to open up to your trite & stereotypical
responses?!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">BUT<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Must.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">I<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Must
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>remove the veil<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">You <span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Must<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>see the reality
of a disfigured & wounded soul<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in;"><o:p><span style="font-family: helvetica;"> </span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">YOU MUST have this OPPORTUNITY to see a reality of this
institution you esteem so highly<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">You<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Must<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Have<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">this<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Opportunity<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">It will then be up to you<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><br /></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Whether you look quickly away <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">because it is not the picture of
beauty you expect to see,<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">OR<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">Whether you look long enough to challenge
your preconceived <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1in;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">& tightly held beliefs<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;">and perhaps re-evaluate them<o:p></o:p></span></p><i><div style="text-align: right;"><i><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: x-small;">I've stopped</span></i></div></i><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: right;"><i><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: x-small;">concealing </span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: right;"><i><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: x-small;">that I am</span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: right;"><i><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: x-small;">a birth mother</span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: right;"><i><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: x-small;">so you can see</span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: right;"><i><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: x-small;">the UGLY TRUTH</span></i></p>Cheerio!http://www.blogger.com/profile/00709663898726245342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5881694936200344846.post-72329129272754494942020-02-26T19:42:00.005-05:002020-02-26T21:52:11.322-05:00Is Healing Possible<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Is healing possible?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There are about 20 resources in my book nook relating to
adoption (this does not include the eBook and many published research articles
filed away).<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The first book I ever read in trying to help me cope with
losing my son was “Silent Grief: Miscarriage – child loss finding your way
through the darkness” by Clara Hinton.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
count this book as adoption related because it was an essential piece in trying
to find equilibrium in life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It
validated so much of what I experienced through the adoption -- loss.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In its pages it vividly and accurately
described the tremendous hurt and pain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>And yes, “the darkness” aptly describes where that pain took and left
me.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The other book that was just as essential to me was
“Adoption Loss: The Hidden Grief” by Evelyn Burns Robinson.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her book <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">IS</i></b> about the impact of adoption on
the original mother (as well as on the adoptee).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This book too was validating, not only jut
about the pain, but also that my story is no anomaly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In addition to the grief and pain, this book
discusses the pressure, deceit, manipulation, and coercion original mothers
faced.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In 2001 I knew I needed help.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was unraveling emotionally, and was
struggling to keep it together.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was
unable to find any type of help from the agency.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I searched for a counselor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some said they worked with adoptees, but none
had helped an original mother before.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Online I found forums, support groups, and books (especially lower
priced used books).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I started collecting books recommended books from my adoptee
and original mom friends.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was thumbing
through my books recently, hoping to find a resource for a friend.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I pulled out “Adoption and Recovery: Solving
the mystery of reunion” by Evelyn Burns Robinson.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her first book was so impactful to me, I assumed
that I had read her second book a long time ago, but as I read the first few
pages, I realized I actually have NOT read it yet.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am only on page 28
and so far I HIGHLY recommend this book!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Why?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
1.) Because it is written for those affected by “adoption
separation” – both original parents/families and adoptees. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;">
I.e.:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“for parents and children…there is a
suffering that comes from living with the physical and emotional distance
created by the adoption. … both … exist in a life situation where a very important
person is missing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No amount of
occupational success or material comfort can compensate for that missing
relationship.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(p. 6)<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;">
And, on page seven, she addresses
the reality that the loss the adoptee experiences is not acknowledged,
recognized, or supported in most adoptive families.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
2.) This book gives me hope that healing, or “recovery” as
she describes it, is possible.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;">
Page 24 she discusses the goal of
personal “adoption recovery work” is to understand what happened (including how
and why) on both an intellectual and emotional level.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To “understand the events of your past better
and to <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">change how you think about what
happened in your life.</b> Although you
cannot change what has already happened, you can achieve a sense of control in
the present and make choices in the future.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;">
…If adoption has left us only with
bitterness and sorrow, we have failed to grasp the opportunities which life has
offered us through our adoption experiences.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> (emphasis mine)</span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Was this hope for healing in other books, and I just missed
it?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Was I hurting too much see it?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Did I not want to hear it?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;">
I tried.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;">
I honestly and earnestly tried to
figure out how to heal.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;">
I found the validation, and
acknowledgement.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;">
I found support from other mothers
and adoptees.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;">
I found my voice and advocated for
change.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;">
I tried counseling and therapy
several times.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;">
But the wound, was always there –
was always seeping – was always sore.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .5in;">
As I describe on my blog, it was as
if I lived life enshrouded in an iron cloak.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I do recall some mothers say they experienced healing in
reunion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I cannot recall details of any
conversation because I frankly did not believe it was possible – at least not
possible for me.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But now . . . I am in reunion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Reunion with our son is still new, our first face to face
was eleven months ago.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am continuously
amazed at how much it has changed me – dare I say brought healing to this old
wound?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As we drove away from that first
meeting, I felt content.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Days and weeks
later, I still felt content. Our reunion has grown to several visits throughout
the year, including visiting his home and he and his wife visiting ours.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Is healing possible?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Yes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> (to clarify here that by healing, I do not necessarily mean it is a complete healing that removes any pain. I still have issues and things that sting - but other things do not hurt to the point of crippling me. I know in our reunion we will experience tough spots too.) </span>More than a year
ago I would not have ventured to answer this question, because it was so unfathomable.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In the past 11 months I experienced the usual seasonal
events -- Mother’s Day, his birthday, Thanksgiving, and Christmas.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>However, in the past year I experienced
without deep sadness, depression, or sorrow.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am fully aware that things could change in our reunion and
we may communicate or see each other less.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But I will ride the wave for as long as it lasts.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So the other question, is healing outside of reunion
possible?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I wonder if I had read
this book several years ago, would it have helped me heal at least to the point
of not being crippled?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can only
speculate, maybe it would/could have, but will truly never know. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Nor will I ever be able to answer if healing can exist
outside of reunion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This book offers hope that it can.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So if you are struggling and are not in
reunion, or are newly in reunion, give it a read.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If you care to, shoot some feedback and
hopefully by then I’ll have the book finished myself.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I think this is an important topic that is open for
discussion, and if you are willing, please share a comment about your own
thoughts or experience about healing<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>--
aka “recovery”.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;">
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">Is Healing Possible?</span></i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Adoption and Recovery: Solving the mystery of reunion” by
Evelyn Burns Robinson; 2004, Clova Publications; Christies Beach, South
Australia<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />Cheerio!http://www.blogger.com/profile/00709663898726245342noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5881694936200344846.post-9984346650674991342020-01-25T23:02:00.001-05:002020-01-25T23:05:54.148-05:00Christmas - the season of dread<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Today is January 25<sup>th</sup> – it is one month after
Christmas.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I just finished putting away
the Christmas stuff.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have also done
a lot of reflecting and comparing this Christmas of 2019 to last year and
others prior. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I think the last I celebrated Christmas – celebrated; as in
really threw myself into it and enjoyed the season, played the music, and
happily bought or made gifts and wrapped presents, was probably 2007.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Each year since then had its own wave of
“hard”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
That first Christmas after my son was born was undeniably difficult.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The following first few years I was still
completely under the adoption spell and in denial.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I still believed the lies of adoption, that
he was “where he belonged” that he deserved better, that love was not enough,
that I would have ruined him, etc.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
<br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>During
the early years I still got pictures of him each January (semi-closed adoption,
all communication sent and forwarded by disgusting unholy adoption agency, bethany
non-christian services), and those pictures were my way to stay afloat, and
perhaps helped keep me in denial.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
When
they arrived it gave me what I felt like I needed to go another year until
another batch of pictures would come in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>My way of coping was to push away any negative thoughts and focus only
on the positives (how happy and healthy he looked in the pictures) – denial
much?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
By 2001 pictures were not arriving as previously.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Also, the pain did not “fade” as the coercive
greedy adoption agency said it would.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Instead, it was getting more intense.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I was still in the fog and viewed adoption as “beautiful”, but I also
felt like I needed a little help with coping, and I began to find on-line
resources.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My getting to the point of
“unraveling” was just a few years later when the depression began to creep in
two months before his birthday in October.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It got heavier at Thanksgiving and the weeks leading up to Christmas got
more oppressive each year.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
I developed a survival skill of avoidance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It seemed to work the first few years when I
just skipped out of church on the days of the children’s Christmas play and
such events.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But then it mushroomed<br />
to
the point that I did not go to church the whole month of December, I refused to
listen to any Christmas music, thus no radio, I got angry when seeing
billboards or ads in the Sunday newspaper, I would not go to any Christmas type
events, I completely stopped decorating, resisted there being a Christmas tree
in the house, and I would not even open Christmas cards (unless they were from
my online Cheerio family”-which was my only ray of light in those days).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I pretty much tried to pretend that Christmas
did not exist.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was not fun and I woke
up each day wishing Christmas was over and it would be January already.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
However, no matter how awful I felt or depressed I was, I
consistently sent presents, cards, letters, and pictures to my son and his
family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I did my best to make the
packages as festive as possible, and wished he would only feel the immense love
I had for him and I hoped the heaviness I felt never bled through for him to
feel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
One tradition I accidentally started was sending a Christmas
ornament each year.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The only requirement
was that the ornament had two characters – symbolizing both of his original
parents.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Part of the tradition was
buying two ornaments; sending one to him and keeping the other for myself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The first few years I enjoyed getting the
ornaments out – in sequence, and as I hung them I would reminisce if there was
a particular reason for that year’s ornament.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But it just got to be too painful being reminded of what was not.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wrote about it <a href="https://cheerios-world.blogspot.com/2013/01/birthmother-wishes.html" target="_blank">here</a> (click to open prior post.)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I unpacked the Hallmark Ornaments to
hang this year, I was surprised to realize that ornaments I kept for myself over
the past seven years were purchased and put into storage unopened.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But this year – Christmas of 2019 – this year was completely
different.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This year it was a very merry affair <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
I rekindled the old tradition of going out to get our live
tree the day after Thanksgiving.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I pulled out all the Hallmark Ornaments and lined them up on
the couch (in sequence by year, of course).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Mr. Cheerio plugged in the lights and wound them around the tree.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I asked him – to his utter surprise – to put
on Christmas music several times before Christmas.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I opened the Christmas cards and hung them
above a window.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I went shopping. Yes, I
did.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I actually went to stores and
walked around the Christmas sections without wincing (and I should have bought
the shower curtain with gingerbread men on it!).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
The difference this year is that my son kicked off reunion
back in March.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He went from occasional
snail mail to regular contact via fb, text, e-mail, and phone calls.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Plus there were three more visits after our
first face to face, and they (he and my favorite daughter-in-law) asked to
visit us several days after Christmas.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>They not only visited, but they stayed with us and we brought in the New
Year together!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
The Hallmark Ornament I picked for us this year is a heart shaped
picture frame with “1<sup>st</sup> Christmas Together” inscribed on the
side.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-aaAkcxXGf9Q/Xi0NbQrK5eI/AAAAAAAAAwY/ljtnpUXAggAz_JxLdkr1k7-MqkXceVSqwCNcBGAsYHQ/s1600/2019%2B1st%2BChristmas.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="747" data-original-width="520" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-aaAkcxXGf9Q/Xi0NbQrK5eI/AAAAAAAAAwY/ljtnpUXAggAz_JxLdkr1k7-MqkXceVSqwCNcBGAsYHQ/s320/2019%2B1st%2BChristmas.JPG" width="222" /></a></div>
The photo I put in the frame is
one of the four of us on a hiking adventure during our last visit at their
place.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn’t want to take down the
tree this year because it felt so good to see and it just kept bringing more
joy and happiness.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
If you would have told me Christmas a year ago that I would
feel content and celebrate, I would have given you an incredibly harsh scolding – and good chance I would have lost my temper with you too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even if I knew last December that our reunion
would soon start, I would NEVER have predicted this precious and priceless
blessing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> I have a wonderful and incredibly thoughtful son and sweet and loving daughter-in-law. </span>I think this year I have
experienced a healing I have heard a few talk about, but never imagined for myself.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />Cheerio!http://www.blogger.com/profile/00709663898726245342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5881694936200344846.post-2256195243249825342019-07-13T21:39:00.004-04:002019-07-13T22:01:16.096-04:00suicide_ASK about itBlogging has never left my mind, it just did not fit into my schedule. But life, as life always does, has changed and Cheerio is in a new season. I hope to get back to writing again.<br />
<br />
When I think of blogging I feel I must begin with this topic. ... suicide.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mVDoaq8MQFA/XSqGTZemrbI/AAAAAAAAAu4/5yllif_4PvEHGzSQCth1zDrqsPqk0X9EQCLcBGAs/s1600/i%2Bam%2Bfine%2Bsave%2Bme.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="183" data-original-width="275" height="425" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mVDoaq8MQFA/XSqGTZemrbI/AAAAAAAAAu4/5yllif_4PvEHGzSQCth1zDrqsPqk0X9EQCLcBGAs/s640/i%2Bam%2Bfine%2Bsave%2Bme.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">photo source: <a href="https://calgaryjournal.ca/news/4282-mental-health-experts-say-it-s-time-to-stop-saying-committed-suicide-here-s-why.html">Calgary Journal</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
I did not plan to write about suicide, it was a light bulb moment a few weeks ago.<br />
<br />
As I stated earlier, I am in a new season.<br />
-I am done with school.<br />
-I am employed in my new career field.<br />
-I have reunited with my son (of which I will write about later).<br />
<br />
I don't know if you ever picked up on it, or if I even wrote enough or clearly for you to realize, but my greatest support network has come from here ... online. I was on an open support group, a private support group for mothers of adoption loss, and welcomed into an adoptee support group, all before FB bloomed (or mushroomed, however you want to view it). It created an incredible network of so many people sharing of themselves and their stories, giving their support and love, and patiently teaching me... this network truly helped me survive and grow.<br />
<br />
IRL or in real life I do have a few friends. I have blogged about two of them over the years. There is this post about <a href="http://cheerios-world.blogspot.com/2008/11/my-best-friend.html" target="_blank">My Best Friend</a>, and a post about <a href="http://cheerios-world.blogspot.com/2014/01/google-it.html" target="_blank">Gigi</a> - both of whom were close friends, and yet I could not talk to them about adoption - or it took me many years to try to talk to them about adoption. This is my first time referencing a fellow I used to work with, I'll call him My Silent Support. I did not know that he accidentally found out about my being an original mother. He knew for years but did not tell me he knew about the adoption until I finally worked up the nerve to tell him first. Since that time he has listened and been incredibly supportive! Our sons are about six months apart.<br />
<br />
Not long ago I was talking with My Best Friend about reunion stuff. It seems my son feels a connection and wants face to face contact with us (me and his original dad - Mr. Cheerio) and I was excited about it! As I shared this part of the story with My Best Friend, it resurfaced memories from back in 2005 - 2008.<br />
<br />
I shared with her a vivid memory I had of driving home from work one afternoon. Because of the adoption related pain, I had been having thoughts of suicide and dying (it was ongoing for about three years). On my home from work that day I had the thought (and I don't know if it was God speaking to my heart, or if it was the Holy Spirit, but I do believe it was Divine intervention -- <i>*if I give up now [by ending my life] then they win and I lose. If he ever needs me in the future, I would be hurting him by not being there. I can not let them win.* </i>That was the turning point for me, and I did not really struggle with suicidal thoughts since that time. I expressed to My Best Friend, that I am glad I didn't give up back then.<br />
<br />
Several weeks later I was talking with My Silent Support, and I shared with him the same memory above.<br />
As I was sharing it with him, the light bulb came on....<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
He and She, they were my closest friends, </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
and I </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
never let on to either one of them </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
about how much I was struggling with the suicidal thoughts. </div>
<br />
They did not know I actually had a plan with a place and method mapped out.<br />
In fact no one in real life knew (and I am not sure if anyone online knew either - until it was 'over') .<br />
<br />
I am NOT writing this post to judge or condemn my friends.<br />
I am just putting it out here as a reminder - that was so poignantly clear to me recently -<br />
<b><i><span style="font-size: large;">PLEASE</span></i></b>,<br />
if you notice someone is struggling - or maybe even not quite them self,<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://suicidepreventionlifeline.org/how-we-can-all-prevent-suicide/" target="_blank">Signs or Red Flags or Risk Factors - Suicide</a></div>
ASK.<br />
I know it feels awkward, but ask how they are doing? do they have thoughts about death? or dying? thoughts of harming them self? do they feel like things are never going to change or get better?<br />
ASK.<br />
Without being prompted, the other person is most likely NOT going to tell you they are contemplating suicide.<br />
ASK.<br />
LISTEN and help them connect to resources<br />
<br />
Maybe start here ... <a href="https://suicidepreventionlifeline.org/">https://suicidepreventionlifeline.org/</a>, which has both a phone # (1-800-732-8255) and a live CHAT Line.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">Suicide - Ask About It</span></i></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Cheerio!http://www.blogger.com/profile/00709663898726245342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5881694936200344846.post-6692279888063970442017-06-24T22:16:00.000-04:002017-06-25T15:38:02.438-04:00a dream<div class="MsoNormal">
6/24/2017<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I had a dream last night. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Oh wait, let me back up a wee bit. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VEKvK1YI8Bk/WU8ZZY64-8I/AAAAAAAAAtI/r1TjeJvgwzkBymIxwYajWJJWLfqxC0RQgCLcBGAs/s1600/woman-dreaming.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="800" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VEKvK1YI8Bk/WU8ZZY64-8I/AAAAAAAAAtI/r1TjeJvgwzkBymIxwYajWJJWLfqxC0RQgCLcBGAs/s320/woman-dreaming.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<i><span style="background-color: white; color: #6fa8dc; font-size: xx-small;">(photo from http://www.dreams.co.uk/sleep-matters-club/wp-content/uploads/2015/12/woman-dreaming.jpg)</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Last night when I went to bed, I was thinking of my
son. I am in a different place
than I was a year ago, and I try to not think about him too much or too long (obsessively?).
It is difficult now that I am back in school.
My long-range goal is to become a counselor or therapist focusing on
post-adoption support. Unlike previous
college papers, I am not playing it safe anymore. I am going to take the risk of writing about real adoption issues (for adoptees & for original parents) other than the right for equal access to OBC. Therefore the adoptee perspective is central
in my current research paper. Translated
to mean it is virtually impossible to NOT think about how this research
may or may not relate to my son, virtually impossible to NOT think about him.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Nevertheless, as I was trying to drift off to sleep, A thought wandered in that it would be nice to see him in a dream.
I quickly rejected this idea. I DON’T
WANT TO DREAM ABOUT HIM, and tried to redirect my thoughts of what it would be
nice to dream about. My mind went to Pussy Willow. I could dream about her. I questioned myself - why should I dream
of things cannot be? Why dream of sadness? My Willow Puff has
been gone almost four years now. I loved
her and still miss her, but I should dream about something positive. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Aren’t you glad to hear the ramblings of the Cheerio mind at
midnight?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Alas, my mind did wander off and sleep did come. Then I had the dream.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In my dream, I don’t recall Mr. Cheerio being there. It was like a family gathering, but no one
was distinguishable except for me and one particular family member whom I have
a tense relationship with (I’ll just call her Eliza – not her real name). We were at home. I don’t know if it was supposed
to be my own or Eliza’s. In this family
gathering, my son was there with someone else.
I didn’t see him or who he was with (his aparents? his current fiancé? his own futuristic family and children), but I
knew or felt he was there. I was letting the
ball in his court – at least that’s what I think was happening, because I did
not approach him, and we did not talk in this dream.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What did happen was that Eliza hugged him, or he hugged
her. I don’t recall exactly.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
At some point I had my back to the group, washing dishes, when Eliza came in
and said he left. I repeated “Oh, he’s
leaving?” And she said, "No, he left". I felt a surge of emotion.
I was angry that she got to hug him but I didn't.
I was hoping to at least say goodbye, and now I didn’t even
have the chance.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I ran out the front door and saw their car going down the
driveway. As I proceeded to run , the car pulled onto the street and turned right. Because of the large privacy fence that ran
down the length of the driveway, as soon as they turned, I lost sight of the car.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I still ran down the driveway yelling, “Come Back! Come back! Please! Please come back! Come back! Please!”
I ran, yelling and waving my arms and hoping the car would reappear. But it did not. I don’t recall in my dream if I just stood
there, but it felt as though I fell to my knees begging him to come back.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So that’s my dream. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I
woke up and wondered why, of all the family members who could have been in my
dream – why Eliza? Why not Mr.
Cheerio? Why not a family member who
listens and supports me regarding my son?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I also ask myself, if it is symbolic of me giving him his
space? Is it a mistake to let the ball
in his court? I just am so careful to NOT be like Eliza in real life. One reason our relationship is tense is because I feel that she is manipulative. I never want him to ever feel like I am manipulative in anything I do or write.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In the end, I suppose, the desperate plea for him to come
back indicates that even though I try to cope by pushing thoughts of him away,
I don’t honestly want him to go away. Even thought I often tell myself these days, try to just forget he exists. (This is new for me. Of all the denial and emotion stuffing I did when he was still a boy, I don't remember ever trying to forget he exists. I have reasoned that I don't deserve him and had no right to refer to him as my son. But I didn't try to "forget" about him.)<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I suppose too, the dream is expression of my fear of
losing him again (third time’s a charm, right???)<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
… so close… and yet so far … so very far apart we are… <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;">
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">I had a dream last night</span></i><o:p></o:p></div>
Cheerio!http://www.blogger.com/profile/00709663898726245342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5881694936200344846.post-19053560410470768492016-09-27T11:35:00.000-04:002016-09-27T11:35:00.768-04:00PPL - Pound Pup Legacy (abused adoptees)<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">When I started to blog, there was a lot of venting to get out the anger and pain that had built up inside of me, but there has also always been a purpose of <b>EDUCATION </b>to <b>PREVENT UN</b>NECESSARY adoptions - unnecessary separation of families.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><br /></span>
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kI9cUfOBK9o/V-hgkBYMzJI/AAAAAAAAAso/DtEey4ead9Ysa8XfHiyF8LjDpqvpRqhHQCK4B/s1600/child_abuse.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kI9cUfOBK9o/V-hgkBYMzJI/AAAAAAAAAso/DtEey4ead9Ysa8XfHiyF8LjDpqvpRqhHQCK4B/s320/child_abuse.jpg" width="320" /></span></a><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">As I update, that means I have to take a hard look at links that may not be as current or relevant <b>as resources. </b> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">One link I will be removing from the left side of my blog is an old link to PPL - Pound Pup Legacy. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">At the time I linked to their site, there was an article or page relating to parenting. The link doesn't bring up the same page, and I do not even remember exactly what all it said. The jist; however, is that there are resources for parenting. That even if you grew up in a less than ideal childhood - you could overcome it and become a great parent. To me that was a resource because it is a message I wish I would have had when I was pregnant.... Because of childhood experiences, I was afraid I was doomed for history to repeat itself. </span><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">This was a tremendous factor in my decision to let go of my son. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">So, if anyone is reading this - and doubts your ability to parent - Please do not give up on <b>yourself</b>! There are resources to help you, to help new parents!</span><br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">I cannot just delete <a href="http://poundpuplegacy.org/" target="_blank">PPL</a> from my blog altogether. It was started by and for abused adoptees (thank you Niels and Kerry!). I cannot just erase and silence their voices with a quick hit of the delete key. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">And yes, it is still a <a href="http://poundpuplegacy.org/about" target="_blank">"resource" for anyone considering adoption</a> - because it shows that adoption does not guarantee your child will have the kind of home you hope for him or her. The only way to know for sure what kind of home your child is raised in - to know they are loved the way you would want, is for you to parent him or her.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">PPL is also a tremendous <a href="http://poundpuplegacy.org/abused_adoptees" target="_blank">"resource" for anyone who is adopted and was abused</a> - to see that (most unfortunately) you are not alone. This may be a place for you to start to find others to talk to who will believe you and who will get it.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">For those who are curious about the link I removed, - this is what it said ...</span><br />
<br />
<div class="widget-content" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: #fff3db; color: #29303b; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", sans-serif; font-size: 11.18px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<b> <span style="color: #ff6600;">.</span> <span style="color: #ff6600;">.</span> <span style="color: #ff6600;"><span style="color: red;">If you are, like I did, considering adoption</span></span></b></div>
<div class="widget-content" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: #fff3db; color: #29303b; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", sans-serif; font-size: 11.18px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<b><span style="color: #ff6600;"><span style="color: red;"><br /></span></span></b></div>
<div class="widget-content" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: #fff3db; color: #29303b; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", sans-serif; font-size: 11.18px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<b><span style="color: #ff6600;"><span style="color: red;"> primarily due to your childhood experiences, </span></span></b></div>
<div class="widget-content" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: #fff3db; color: #29303b; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", sans-serif; font-size: 11.18px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<b><span style="color: #ff6600;"><span style="color: red;"><br /></span></span></b></div>
<div class="widget-content" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: #fff3db; color: #29303b; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", sans-serif; font-size: 11.18px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<b><span style="color: #ff6600;"><span style="color: red;">please visit THIS PAGE </span></span></b></div>
<div class="widget-content" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: #fff3db; color: #29303b; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", sans-serif; font-size: 11.18px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<b><span style="color: #ff6600;"><span style="color: red;">--></span><a href="http://poundpuplegacy.org/node/19424" style="color: #956839; text-decoration: underline;">http://poundpuplegacy.org/node/19424</a> . </span></b></div>
<div class="widget-content" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: #fff3db; color: #29303b; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", sans-serif; font-size: 11.18px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<b><span style="color: red;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="widget-content" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: #fff3db; color: #29303b; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", sans-serif; font-size: 11.18px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<b><span style="color: red;">OH, how I wish this article was something</span></b></div>
<div class="widget-content" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: #fff3db; color: #29303b; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", sans-serif; font-size: 11.18px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<b><span style="color: red;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="widget-content" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: #fff3db; color: #29303b; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", sans-serif; font-size: 11.18px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<b><span style="color: red;"> I would have been introduced to when I was carrying my child.</span></b></div>
<div class="widget-content" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: #29303b; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", sans-serif; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: right; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i><br /></i></span></span></div>
<div class="widget-content" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: #29303b; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", sans-serif; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: right; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Pound </i></span></span></div>
<div class="widget-content" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: #29303b; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", sans-serif; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: right; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Pup </i></span></span></div>
<div class="widget-content" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: #29303b; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", sans-serif; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: right; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Legacy</i></span></span></div>
Cheerio!http://www.blogger.com/profile/00709663898726245342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5881694936200344846.post-39938265920529450562016-09-23T18:11:00.000-04:002016-09-23T18:11:13.672-04:00"Sign or Else" verses voluntarily and freely <div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
"Sign or Else" vs "voluntarily and freely" -- but it cannot be both</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
I was talking with a classmate the other week when we were
on a short break. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Having been in class
with me since 2013, she is well aware of my passion for adoptee rights. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
She shared with me that a close
relative is adopting a child.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Adopting a child from foster care.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She was saying that her relatives wanted an open adoption;
however someone (from either the agency or a caseworker in child welfare)
STRONGLY discouraged them from doing it.
Their reasoning? Her relatives
were told that if they do an open adoption, the mother can come back later at any time and
take the child away from them. So they decided to
do a closed adoption.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As we were talking, I told her that this information is
<b><span style="color: #cc0000;">COMPLETELY FALSE!</span></b> (Please, if anyone
knows differently, start a discussion here.) I told her that once the original parents
sign the relinquishment papers they have thirty days (in Pennsylvania) to change their mind. After that thirty days, it is over, they
legally cannot get the child back. I
expressed outrage that this person giving them advice was bullying and frightening them into a
decision for a closed adoption, when the family really wanted to provide an
open adoption.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Later in our conversation, this classmate also mentioned that the original mother has a newborn. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She was told to either “voluntarily” sign the relinquishment papers for
the older child, </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
or they would take the newborn from her.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YEAREzrknf8/V-WjcyqtqLI/AAAAAAAAAsI/vF9ahtF73QA45BmKfyMOIoPkY9CjUqVQQCK4B/s1600/sign_or_else.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YEAREzrknf8/V-WjcyqtqLI/AAAAAAAAAsI/vF9ahtF73QA45BmKfyMOIoPkY9CjUqVQQCK4B/s400/sign_or_else.jpg" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
“Wow, there was no coercion involved , was there? </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
That was a totally a voluntary choice she
made, wasn’t it?” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
[I don’t think my
classmate really thought about it </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
until I mentioned coercion. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Hopefully it sunk in.]<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Yes, this occurred in 2016 – not 1966, or 1986. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
COERCION absolutely is alive and still at
work.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>"Sign or Else"</i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i> verses </i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>voluntarily </i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>and </i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>freely</i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Cheerio!http://www.blogger.com/profile/00709663898726245342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5881694936200344846.post-25099450215284048772016-09-17T13:21:00.001-04:002016-09-17T13:21:15.177-04:00Overhaul?<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8P4gFa84h2Y/V91ygZ5746I/AAAAAAAAArk/CwHYI-o0h0ENl7FWgoaqt8ddtoTYb4DBACK4B/s1600/tacoma_stuck.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8P4gFa84h2Y/V91ygZ5746I/AAAAAAAAArk/CwHYI-o0h0ENl7FWgoaqt8ddtoTYb4DBACK4B/s1600/tacoma_stuck.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" border="0" height="212" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8P4gFa84h2Y/V91ygZ5746I/AAAAAAAAArk/CwHYI-o0h0ENl7FWgoaqt8ddtoTYb4DBACK4B/s320/tacoma_stuck.jpg" title="My Poor Truck" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My Poor Truck!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AtHlUKp5eFc/V91zEEqNVyI/AAAAAAAAAr4/hB3RkXUDdgEEZQhqOmrs1NOzHqsyGwPCACK4B/s1600/tacoma_stuck_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" border="0" height="208" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AtHlUKp5eFc/V91zEEqNVyI/AAAAAAAAAr4/hB3RkXUDdgEEZQhqOmrs1NOzHqsyGwPCACK4B/s320/tacoma_stuck_2.jpg" title="Yup! it's stuck all right." width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yup! It is definitely stuck!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
My blog has been silent for more than a year and a half. I have been thinking of writing more posts, but just didn't know where to start.</div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Today, 9/17/2016, these pictures showed up on my FB Memories ... so now is the time.</div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Seven years ago we were building a retaining wall behind and alongside our house. During one of my trips of unloading crushed stone into a wheelbarrow to dump at the side of the house, where it was too narrow for a truck, this happened. </div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
When this picture popped up, I quickly remembered those days, the feelings, my thoughts. </div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
While moving stone, I was angry. </div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
I was pushing and driving my body very hard </div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
- telling myself it didn't matter how much I hurt, </div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
I was going to get this done! </div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
-telling myself "<b>I</b>" didn't matter... </div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
what good am I anyway? </div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
I felt like such a complete and total loser! </div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
I already lost my son to adoption so many years earlier. </div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Now I <a href="https://cheerios-world.blogspot.com/2009/11/our-little-flower-bud.html" target="_blank">lost my unborn</a> <a href="https://cheerios-world.blogspot.com/2009/11/our-babies.html" target="_blank">little girl just days ago</a>. </div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
I failed my husband by not being able to make him a daddy.</div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
In a phone conversation, my oldest sister pointed out that I was just punishing myself for the miscarriage, and it was both unnecessary and unhealthy. I don't remember if I took her advice and worked at a less frenzied pace, but I did get all the stone moved.</div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
- - - - -</div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>I don't have an outline or planned posts or themes for blogging again.</i></span></div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>It will just be whatever is happening at the time.</i></span></div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>I will gradually work on overhauling the links to other sources/resources.</i></span></div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: right;">
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">Overhaul?</span></i></div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WGeYXfZGVSg/V91yiBkHGnI/AAAAAAAAArs/u_HZ_iQncAgBJP_hsPCZc7nxb0lv2RLmACK4B/s1600/tacoma_stuck_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WGeYXfZGVSg/V91yiBkHGnI/AAAAAAAAArs/u_HZ_iQncAgBJP_hsPCZc7nxb0lv2RLmACK4B/s1600/tacoma_stuck_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div>
Cheerio!http://www.blogger.com/profile/00709663898726245342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5881694936200344846.post-49284995931708074822015-01-14T21:30:00.000-05:002015-01-14T21:30:01.232-05:00Silent Grief<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Silent Grief: Miscarriage – Child Loss Finding Your
Way through the Darkness </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">by Clara Hinton</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">(<a href="http://www.silentgrief.com/store/silentgrief/">http://www.silentgrief.com/store/silentgrief/</a>)</span> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">The book is less than 200 pages long and it took me about
three years to read it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It will always
be on the top of the pile for me because it was my first steps toward dealing
with the loss of my son.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Although this book is not adoption related at all, it hit
the very core of my experience.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-KzVnqRJY0kM/VLC2uIHkXKI/AAAAAAAAAp8/3ZrTkOeA9No/s1600/silent_grief.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-KzVnqRJY0kM/VLC2uIHkXKI/AAAAAAAAAp8/3ZrTkOeA9No/s1600/silent_grief.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">The reason I bought the book was because I remember the
(biased) “counselor” at Bethany Christian Services (aka: Bethany NONChristian
Disservices, or BS for short) made the comment along the lines that giving up a
child is similar to losing a child to death.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At the time I was pregnant I did not know of anyone who had experienced
such a thing and had no way of knowing what that experience was like.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">So, almost ten years into knowing what it was like living
with adoption loss I purchased this book to find out if the “counselor” was
right.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Was adoption loss similar to the
loss of a child to death?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This was
obviously before I found out personally what it is like to lose a child to
death.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">My analysis of the book is that it is very well written and
I highly recommend it!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span><br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I was hesitant about it at first because it is written by a
Christian woman and I anticipated her telling people that “all things work
together for good” and for her to whitewash any pain and say how happy and full
of joy we should be – as I’ve often heard in churches growing up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">But I was completely wrong!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The author skillfully and sensitively talked
about the struggles, the pain, and the emotions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have learned that there can be no healing
unless one is willing to deal with the underlying pain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Dealing with the underlying pain, that is what
the author did.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I purchased this book before I experienced my second
child-loss (back stories can be found here <a href="http://cheerios-world.blogspot.com/2009/11/our-little-flower-bud.html" target="_blank">Our Little Flower Bud</a>, <a href="http://cheerios-world.blogspot.com/2009/11/our-babies.html" target="_blank">Our Babies</a>, <a href="http://cheerios-world.blogspot.com/2010/04/are-you-gonna-celebrate.html" target="_blank">Celebrate?</a>, and <a href="http://cheerios-world.blogspot.com/2010/09/healing-touch-of-death.html" target="_blank">Healing - Death</a>). Having the information from this little book as a foundation when we
lost our Little Flowerbud was very helpful in me dealing the aftermath of a
miscarriage too.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">One of the topics in her book had to do with other
people.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is sad, but true that at a
time of such crushing loss and incredible pain, friends and family seem to
withdraw.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It adds to the pain because a
person finds themselves trying to navigate their new world of hurt alone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hinton addresses the reasons this often
happens.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She is not excusing it, but it
does help a little bit to understand “where the heck did everyone go?!?!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">After our Little Flowerbud was gone, I personally, found it
to be a time of sifting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After all the
dust settled I was able to see who my true and reliable friends were.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A year later, there were some people that
dropped off the list.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Five years later
it has even prompted me to begin searching for a different church. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">From the book (and now through personal experience</span><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"></span>)<a href="http://cheerios-world.blogspot.com/2010/03/man-this-is-cake.html" target="_blank"> the comparison </a>between losing a child to adoption and losing a child to death are
parallel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There are only two areas I
found to be opposites instead of parallel – hope and closure.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">With adoption, there is no closure.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The child has not died and there is no way to
really grieve the incredible loss.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When
a child dies there is closure which allows the parents to eventually go through
all the grieving cycles.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That is not to
say they ever reach a point where it never hurts again, but it eventually is
not as crippling as in the beginning.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">With death, there is no hope.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The child is gone, the relationship cannot
continue and there is no hope to see them again, to talk to them again, or to
watch them in any activity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Death is
permanent and final.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With adoption,
there is hope.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hope that perhaps there
may be a reconnection with the lost child someday.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">My final analysis in a nutshell – that “counselor” is
right.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The gut-wrenching pain of living
life without my son lost to adoption was so undeniably parallel to the
tremendous loss of losing a child to death.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Why on earth
would any human being knowingly and intentionally put another person through
such a horrendous experience unnecessarily????</span></b><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is one thing for a counselor to help a
person recover from such a horrific thing as the death of a child – but to
willfully and intentionally push a woman into such a chasm of despair is
deplorable and inexcusable!</span></div>
<div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Silent Grief</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">
</span></span><br />
<div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Parallel</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">
</span></span><br />
<div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Pain</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">
</span></span><br />
<div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">And </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">
</span></span><br />
<div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Suffering</span></span></div>
Cheerio!http://www.blogger.com/profile/00709663898726245342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5881694936200344846.post-14637742615215097532015-01-09T23:25:00.001-05:002020-11-28T20:23:44.066-05:00Cheerio's Reading Rack<br />
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Books
and other publications (pamphlets, articles, and studies)</span><br />
<span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span></span>
<span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">
Going back to school has zapped ALL my spare time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I rarely have time to even garden let alone
blog.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I often think about writing new
posts, but the ideas mostly stay in my head.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>This year I my aim to posts more regularly and post about books or articles
I’ve read. <br />
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
</span></span><br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">This post is just a list of books I’ve <span style="color: red;">read </span>recently (as in the past few years) plus the
stack of books I have on my filing cabinet <span style="color: #00b0f0;">waiting
to be read </span>(or finish ones <span style="color: #7030a0;">in progress</span>).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Throughout the year I’ll post threads with my
comments about an item from my ever growing reading rack.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times;"><span id="goog_1138427531"></span><span id="goog_1138427532"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1-cgAM-UHy0/VLCnwvuCNLI/AAAAAAAAApk/ivRd0r56f24/s1600/cheerios%2Bstack%2Bof%2Badoption%2Bbooks.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1-cgAM-UHy0/VLCnwvuCNLI/AAAAAAAAApk/ivRd0r56f24/s1600/cheerios%2Bstack%2Bof%2Badoption%2Bbooks.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-variant: small-caps;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">About the Adoption Experience</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: x-small;">
</span><br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;"><u><span style="color: red;"><a href="https://cheerios-world.blogspot.com/2015/01/silent-grief.html" target="_blank">Silent Grief</a></span></u><span style="color: red;">: Miscarriage – Child Loss Finding Your Way through the
Darkness by Clara Hinton<u> </u></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;"><span style="color: red;"><span style="color: red;"><u>Adoption and Loss</u></span>: The Hidden Grief by Evelyn B Robinson<u> </u></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;"><span style="color: red;"><u>Adoption and Identity</u>: Influence on Emerging Adults’ Occupational and Parental
Goals (2011)[article] by April Moyer and Linda Juant – Adoption Quarterly<u> </u></span></span><br />
<span style="color: red; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><u>Birth Records of Illegitimates and of Adopted</u>
Children (1930) [article] by Sheldoh Howard and Henry Hemenway - American
Journal of Public Health<u> </u></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;"><u><span style="color: red;">The Girls Who Went Away</span></u><span style="color: red;">: The Hidden History of Women Who Surrendered Children for
Adoption in the Decades before Roe v. Wade by Ann Fessler</span><u> </u></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;"><u>Journey of the Adopted Self</u>: A Quest for wholeness by
Betty Jean Lifton<u> </u></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;"><u>The Other Mother</u> by Carol Schaefer<u><span style="color: #7030a0;"> </span></u></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;"><u><span style="color: #7030a0;">The Primal Wound</span></u><span style="color: #7030a0;">: Understanding the Adopted Child by Nancy Verrier</span><u><span style="color: red;"> </span></u></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;"><u><span style="color: red;">The Princess Has To Die</span></u><span style="color: red;">: Representing rupture and grief in the narrative of adoption
(2009) [article] by Josephine Wright – The Psychoanalytic Study of the Child</span><u><span style="color: red;"> </span></u></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;"><u><span style="color: red;">The Same Smile</span></u><span style="color: red;">: The Triumph of a Mother's Love after Losing Two Daughters
by Susan Mello Souza and Joanne Medeiros Harrington</span><u> </u></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;"><u>Sixteen and Pregnant</u>: Minors’ Consent in Abortion and
Adoption (2013) [pamphlet] by Malinda Syemore - Yale Journal of Law and
Feminism<u><span style="color: red;"> </span></u></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;"><u><span style="color: red;">Strengthening Adoption Practice</span></u><span style="color: red;">, Listening to Adoptive Families (2007) [article] by Anne
Atkinson and Patricia Gonet</span><u><span style="color: #7030a0;"> </span></u></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;"><span style="color: red;"><u>Twenty Things Adopted Kids
Wish their Adoptive Parents Knew </u>by
Sherrie Eldridge</span><u> </u></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;"><span style="color: red;"><u>Twice Born</u>: Memoirs of an Adopted Daughter by Betty
Jean Lifton</span><u> </u></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;"><u>Adoption Healing</u>: A Path to Recovery (for adoptees)
by Joe Soll (I have heard conflicting reports on this author, so it is at the
bottom of the stack.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I will likely read
it someday.)<u><span style="color: #7030a0;"> </span></u></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;"><u><span style="color: #7030a0;">Adoption Wisdom</span></u><span style="color: #7030a0;">: A Guide to the issues and feelings of adoption by
Marlou Russel Ph. D </span>(I started this book but it fell to bottom of stack
because of what I felt was repeated subtle negative representation of original
mothers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After 5 chapters, I don’t know
if I will ever finish this one.)</span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-variant: small-caps;">Pro-Adoption Marketing
Propaganda</span><span style="font-size: x-small;"><u><span style="color: red;"> </span></u></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><u><span style="color: red;">Birthmother Good Mother</span></u><span style="color: red;">: Her Story of Heroic Redemption (2007) by Charles Kennedy
and National Council for Adoption</span><u><span style="color: red;"> </span></u></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><u><span style="color: red;">The Missing Piece</span></u><span style="color: red;">: Adoption Counseling in Pregnancy Resource Centers (2000) [pamphlet]
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Curtis J Young</span></span></span></div>
</div>
</div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EYFpB_-hno0/VLCoKkntWqI/AAAAAAAAAps/O_aNWey5qew/s1600/book%2Btitle.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EYFpB_-hno0/VLCoKkntWqI/AAAAAAAAAps/O_aNWey5qew/s1600/book%2Btitle.png" width="219" /></a></div>
<span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"></span><span style="font-variant: small-caps;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Reunion</span></span>
<span style="font-size: x-small;">
<br /><br />
</span></span><br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="font-size: xx-small; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><u>Adoption and Recovery</u>: Solving the Mystery of Reunion
by Evelyn B Robinson<u> </u></span></span><br />
<span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="font-size: xx-small; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><u>Adoption Forum</u>: Intimate discussions to unite the
triad in healing by Kasey Hamner<u><span style="color: red;"> </span></u></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;"><u><span style="color: red;">The Adoption Reunion Survival
Guide</span></u><span style="color: red;">: Preparing yourself for the search,
reunion, and beyond by Julie Bailey and Lynn Giddens</span><u> </u></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;"><u>Birth Bond</u>: Reunions between birthparents and
adoptees – what happens after by Judith Gediman and Linda Brown<u> </u></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;"><u>Birthright</u>: The Guide to Search and Reunion for
Adoptees, Birthparents, and Adoptive Parents by Betty Jean Lifton<u><span style="color: #7030a0;"> </span></u></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;"><u><span style="color: #7030a0;">Boundaries</span></u><span style="color: #7030a0;">: When to say Yes, When to say No to Take Control of Your
Life by Dr Henry Cloud and Dr Jon Townsend</span><u> </u></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;"><u>Lost & Found</u>: The adoption experience by Betty
Jean Lifton<u><span style="color: #7030a0;"> </span></u></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;"><u><span style="color: #7030a0;">One Perfect Day</span></u><span style="color: #7030a0;">: A Mother and Son’s Story of Adoption and Reunion by
Diane Burke and Steve Orlandi</span><u><span style="color: red;"> </span></u></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;"><u><span style="color: red;">Reunions between Adoptees and
Birth </span></u><span style="color: red;">Parents: The Adoptive Parent’s View (1994)
[article] by Silverman, Campbell, Patti – Social Work</span><u><span style="color: red;"> </span></u></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;"><u><span style="color: red;">Why Reunions Go Wrong</span></u><span style="color: red;">: What Memoirs of Adopted Daughters Tell Birthmothers
(article) by Jane Edwards – Origins USA</span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><u><span style="color: red;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><br /></span></span></span></u></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"></span>
</div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="font-size: xx-small; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-variant: small-caps;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Transracial and
International Adoption</span></span><br />
</span></div>
<span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="font-size: xx-small; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="font-size: xx-small; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><u><span style="color: red;">Black Kids in White Houses</span></u><span style="color: red;">: On Race, Silence, and the Changing American Family () [article]
by Jen Graves</span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><u><span style="color: red;"> </span></u></span></span><br />
<span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="font-size: xx-small; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><u><span style="color: red;">The Lie We Love</span></u><span style="color: red;"> (2008) [article] by E. J. Graff</span><u> </u></span></span><br />
<span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="font-size: xx-small; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><u>Child Laundering and the Hague Convention on Intercountry
Adoption</u>: The Future and Past of Intercountry Adoption (2010) [article] by
David M Smolin – University of Louisville Law Review<u> </u></span></span><br />
<span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="font-size: xx-small; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><u>The Missing Girls of China</u>: Population, Policy, Culture,
Gender, Abortion, Abandonment, and Adoption in East-Asian Perspective (20100 [article]
by David M Smolin – Cumberland Law Review</span></span></div>
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</span><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="font-size: xx-small; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">
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<span style="font-size: small; font-variant: small-caps;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Contains Adoption Threads</span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;"><u><span style="color: red;"> </span></u></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;"><u><span style="color: red;">Finding Fish</span></u><span style="color: red;">: A Memoir by Antwone Quenton Fisher</span><u><span style="color: red;"> </span></u></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;"><u><span style="color: red;">Rosa Lee</span></u><span style="color: red;">: A mother and her family in Urban America</span><u><span style="color: red;"> </span></u></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;"><u><span style="color: red;">Shut up and Say Something</span></u><span style="color: red;">: Business Communication Strategies to Overcome Challenges
and Influence Listeners by Karen Friedman </span><recommend b="" for="" in="" interested="" style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;" those="">(<b>adoption reform</b> </recommend></span><span style="font-size: small;">or
fighting for legislative change for <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">equal
access to OBC</b>
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<span style="font-size: small; font-variant: small-caps;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Non-adoption reading</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">WWII -- <u><span style="color: red;">Unbroken</span></u><span style="color: red;"> by Laura Hillenbrand</span> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">WWII -- <u><span style="color: red;">Night</span></u><span style="color: red;"> by Elie Wiesel</span> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;">WWII -- <u><span style="color: red;">From Zolkiewka to Israel</span></u><span style="color: red;"> by Haim Zilberkland </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;"><u><span style="color: red;">Fat Shame</span></u><span style="color: red;">: Stigma and the Fat Body in American Culture </span><span style="color: red;">by Amy
Erdman Farrell</span><u><span style="color: red;"> </span></u></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;"><u><span style="color: red;">Killer Angels</span></u><span style="color: red;"> by Michael Shaara</span><u><span style="color: red;"> </span></u></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;"><u><span style="color: red;">Nickel and Dimed</span></u><span style="color: red;">: on (not) Getting by in America by Barbara Ehrenreich</span><u><span style="color: red;"> </span></u></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;"><u><span style="color: red;">Now, Discover Your Strengths</span></u><span style="color: red;"> by Marcus Buckingham and Donald O. Clifton</span><u><span style="color: red;"> </span></u></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;"><u><span style="color: red;">The Blue Orchard</span></u> <span style="color: red;">by Jackson Taylor<u> </u></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;"><u><span style="color: red;">The Healing of America</span></u><span style="color: red;">: a Global Quest for Better, Cheaper, and Fairer Health Care
by T. R. Reid</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: x-small;">Cheerio's</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: x-small;">Reading</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: small;"><span style="color: red;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="color: black;">Rack</span></span> </span></span></div>
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<br />Cheerio!http://www.blogger.com/profile/00709663898726245342noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5881694936200344846.post-13875232021165380822014-08-08T23:27:00.000-04:002014-08-08T23:41:57.576-04:00Pussy Willow my little PrincessTo my dearest little Pussy Willow Puff,<br />
<br />
<br />
The naked ladies started blooming this week. <br />
They were blooming last year when you died. Aug 9th, 2013<br />
<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6SohCIa_kMc/U-WTY6V_VvI/AAAAAAAAAow/pzvwxS7p_7g/s1600/Kitten+Pussy+Willow.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6SohCIa_kMc/U-WTY6V_VvI/AAAAAAAAAow/pzvwxS7p_7g/s1600/Kitten+Pussy+Willow.JPG" height="266" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
I was heartbroken and I still miss you, terribly! <br />
A year later and I still cry when I think about you and the tears are falling now as I write. In a hours it will be one year that I held you and pet you for the last time, comforting you as your little kitty soul was packing up to leave your furry gray home here. A huge part of me wishes you were still here, while the other part of me would not want you to still be here and be in pain or suffering. <br />
<br />
<br />
I try to not dwell on it but sometimes I question why. Why did you have to go? Can anyone make sense of death? You were here one day and gone forever the next. How, how can you just be gone? Forever? I think of that last night with you. -Carrying you inside from the front porch and upstairs. -Holding you, talking to you. Remembering how I failed you in the early morning hours and I feel so guilty about that. I’m so incredibly sorry Willow, I didn’t know, I didn’t realize you were dying. It was stupid of me. I should have sat with you and talked to you and comforted you sooner. I just didn’t know. I wish I could turn back time so I could have been there for you earlier.<br />
<br />
<br />
Although you are gone, your little paws left permanent impressions across my heart.<br />
The corner of the bathroom cabinet stays a stark white now that you’re gone. You were always rubbing along the corner of that cabinet and I had to wash it all the time. What I wouldn’t give to have to wash that corner again. But the memories will just have to do.<br />
<br />
<br />
I miss hearing you talk to me. <br />
Early in the morning as I was still trying to get the blur out of my eyes you would follow me everywhere, talking the whole time! Who would have imagined a tiny little cat could have so much to say? Especially so early in the day! I really miss that, your constant little meowing. When I grumbled about you being “a morning person” I still thought it was adorable (albeit a bit annoying at times). Mornings are not at all the same without you.<br />
<br />
<br />
We got you as a little kitten and you were always so cute and sweet. <br />
<span id="goog_1463239575"></span><span id="goog_1463239576"></span><br />
You could be zipping around the house, but as soon as I picked you up, you would go limp as if to say “Ok you can hold me now.” When I held you, your little front paws would cross, like a little princess. Yes, you became the little princess too. Even your coat was special. You were always soft as a bunny. It was quite a challenge bathing you, because of that extra downy like under coat of fur you had – seemed I could never get it wet.<br />
<br />
<br />
Most cats go crazy with the laser lights too, but not you. <br />
It was as if it was beneath you. Even when the other cats chased it, you were not interested in the least. When we tried to get you to play, you would just sit there looking up at the laser pen, and then at us as if to say “who do you think you’re trying to fool?”<br />
<br />
<br />
I miss the eye contact too. <br />
You didn’t just look at me; you looked me in the eye and you would hold that gaze. It was like that with everyone. Even company commented about your “stare.” I miss our customary greetings too. I’d walk into the bedroom and you’d be standing on the side of the bed, I’d bend my head down and you would rub your head on my forehead along the side of my face and jawbone. We greet each other that way since you were a tiny kitten, for eleven years Willow.<br />
<br />
<br />
I miss singing to you <br />
– from the Cocoa Puff commercial “Puff puff, Willow Puff! Crazy little Willow Puff. Soft and gray and fuzzy. Wahooo, I’m cuckoo for Willow Puff.” And I miss singing with you “Little Pussy Willow had a fly upon her nose [you’d meow], little Pussy Willow had a fly upon her nose [meow] little Pussy Willow had a fly upon her noooooooose [meow] and she flicked it and it flew away.”<br />
<br />
<br />
You always had the most incredibly loud purring.<br />
It was like a tiny little engine roaring. Often I’d wake up during the night and I could hear you purring – laying over at the edge of the bed. It was just so loud and sometimes it was difficult falling asleep sometimes because it was so loud (and you often slept near my shoulders) but I couldn’t really get annoyed about you being that happy.<br />
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<br />
You were my little comforter too. <br />
In 2009 when we lost our little flower bud and I was overwhelmed with grief, sometimes I would just sit on the steps of the deck. I didn’t want to do anything - just sit. You would crawl into my lap and let me pet you and hold you as I cried. You didn’t seem to mind the tears falling into your soft gray fur. <br />
Around November of 2012 I hit a really dark spot for a little while. <br />
<br />
I was so afraid of not hearing back from Nathan. So afraid that he would be like his original father, that he would be content with life as he knew it and not want contact. I was really struggling with the idea of trying to go on without him in my life. It was hard enough surviving this long and I just could not comprehend continuing to go on for countless more years with the silence.<br />
<br />
<br />
Mr Cheerio needs more sleep than I do and so by the time I went to bed that night he was already asleep. I was emotionally exhausted but sleep was far away as I lay there on my back and the tears just kept rolling. I was having a lot of thoughts about death and dying.<br />
<br />
<br />
I will never forget that night, Willow. <br />
It is like a movie that replays in my mind. I see it clearly.<br />
You always slept at the edge of the bed, but that night as I lay there crying, you slowly walked up beside me. You very slowly put one paw up on me, then another and another until you we standing on me. You very slowly walked up and sat on my chest. You never did this before. The whole time you were looking into my eyes, even as you sat there. I started to pet you and eventually stopped crying. You lay down and started to purr. <br />
<br />
<br />
It was as if God knew how much I needed comfort,<br />
and He sent you, this cute little gray cat, to help me. From that point on for the next nine months every single night (except for the last) you would curl up on my chest. I pet you and you purred. You stayed there purring until I fell asleep – every night.<br />
<br />
Every<br />
Night<br />
<br />
<br />
Once I fell asleep <br />
you’d leave that spot often moving to the corner of my pillow. When I woke up through the night, I’d hear you purring on my pillow and I’d pet you until I fell back to sleep. I think this solidified our bond, Puff Girl. <br />
<br />
<br />
After your little kitty soul departed, it was too quiet everywhere! <br />
The silence was deafening. Like a vacant house, every sound echoed the emptiness. The other cats don’t meow like you did. They make these strange little meeps and murps and sounds in their throat, but not actual meows. But the hardest part was getting to sleep at night. <br />
<br />
<br />
Not only could I no longer hear you purring, <br />
but the little purring vibrations were obviously gone too. I couldn’t even sleep in that room – “Willow World” we called it. I would just cry walking into the room. When I did finally fall asleep, I’d wake up realizing I was petting the corner of my pillow, where you used to sleep. I finally retreated to the guest room for several months, just so I could get some sleep.<br />
<br />
I lost you in August, <br />
our little flower bud in September, <br />
and Nathan’s birthday in October. <br />
I was worried about facing another birthday and holiday season without you. You were my comforter in very dark and heavy times, what would I do if I hit another dark period since you’re gone? I was actually concerned about that. <br />
<br />
<br />
For Nathan’s 19th birthday last October <br />
we sent a gift directly to him at college and we sent his Christmas gift early – so he would have snacks to munch on while studying for finals. In the packet of pictures I sent, there were pictures of you too. I wish he had gotten to meet you and you him. I also wish you were here to share the joy with us my Little Princess, when he actually sent us a snail mail letter in January of this year. We have mailed a few letters back and forth. So, I think the darkest part of the silence may be gone and I should be okay to face the upcoming fall season of losses and holidays to endure.<br />
<br />
<br />
As the one year anniversary is getting closer, I still miss you. <br />
I wish I could hold you again. You were a best friend and I will always miss you my dearest little Pussy Willow.<br />
<br />
My hope is that I can make a meaningful difference in people’s lives that when my time is up, maybe someone will miss me just a fraction as much as I miss you.<br />
<br />
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<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">my dearest</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">little</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">pussy willow puff</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">princess</span> </div>
Cheerio!http://www.blogger.com/profile/00709663898726245342noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5881694936200344846.post-2323287864703677472014-01-19T22:24:00.001-05:002019-07-13T20:36:32.414-04:00Google it<br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">“Google it” is such a common phrase, more or some than others.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I am always hesitant posting about situations with family or friends, because I don’t know who among them reads my blog. I try to not mention it to people I interact with in real life. I have a friend, whom I’ll call Gigi. I am nearly certain she is unaware of my blog, so I feel safe posting this.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Gigi is a very talented woman with creative and artistic abilities. At one time were neighbors and then we both moved but have kept in touch. We get together at lest once a year. I feel fortunate if we can get together more often. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Although we have been friends for many years and have a special relationship, I have rarely talked with her about my son. Before the whole situation unraveled, she was actually the ONLY person, outside of immediate family, who knew about him. When I got pictures in the early years, I was so proud and Gigi was the only person I could show them off to. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Other than when a batch of pictures arrived once in awhile, we didn’t talk about it. I am not blaming her, I as still in complete denial. When I would talk about it, it didn’t make me feel better. Often it frustrated me more.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I was visiting Gigi last weekend. We were catching up since the last visit. She was showing me her amazing 3-D appliqué quilts. We were in the kitchen and she was talking about work, and how one guy didn’t show up for awhile. She asked a co-worker about him. The co-worker suggested Gigi Google the guy’s name.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">And so she did and was stunned to find the guy’s mug shot and police report from another state. This was a new concept to Gigi, to Google a person’s name. She told me she Googled herself, but there was nothing out the. Then asked if I ever Googled myself? “Yes,” I replied. She asked if there is anything out there on me? “Yes,” I answered. “Oh! What’s out there?” she asked. Then I changed the subject to one of her mini quilts I just noticed hanging in the kitchen.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">What is out there on me is an on-line news article from several years ago. I had no idea the reporter was going to print my name! I did not disagree with the article, but I would have preferred to keep the adoption a private matter. It is not what I would want to pop up if I am ever job-hunting and a potential employer Googles me.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I didn’t want to get in it with Gigi that night, so I steered the ship a different direction.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana";"><br /></span>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Fast forward several days.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I called Gigi we talked about a big event going on in her life. Then after she was all talked out about it, she informed me that she Googled my name. “Did you find anything out there?” I asked her.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">“Yes,” she said. She found and read the article. The article includes stories from several original moms the reporter interviewed. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">“I found a website that talks about what happened to you and another woman. How you were talked out of keeping your babies.” Her next words completely surprised me. “I get it now. I used to think you were just upset because you couldn’t see your son. But now I realize that it was because of what happened to you. You could have kept your son. You and your husband have been married all these years and you still like each other. I didn’t understand, but I get it now.”</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana";">WOW</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">We talked a bit more about adoption stuff, like the coercion and how it is still going on. I talked about money and how profit is the motivation.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Near the end of our conversation, I thanked her for acknowledging that and let her know how much I appreciated it.</span><br />
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<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Google</span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">I get it now</span></div>
Cheerio!http://www.blogger.com/profile/00709663898726245342noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5881694936200344846.post-37388137225571890492013-11-24T13:05:00.002-05:002013-11-24T13:13:37.645-05:00you don't define meThere is a phrase from Barlow Girl’s song, “Mirror” that I keep replaying in my head. The song is about a girl who doesn’t like who she sees in the mirror and starts to starve herself to become thinner. While the song has an important message to our young people (yes, both guys and gals) about self-image, that isn’t what I’ve been clinging to.<br />
<br />
The phrase I keep replaying is “you don’t define me.”<br />
<br />
<br />
Who or what defines us? <br />
<br />
There can be danger in who we allow to define us.<br />
<br />
I think this is something someone who is in an abusive relationship probably struggles with. <br />
<br />
For me, as much as I hope for a reunion with my son – I cannot let that hope for something in the future define me today. I cannot let him (my son) define me either. He is who he is, somewhere distant and not inviting contact. And I HAVE to be ok with that.<br />
<br />
This has been on my mind for quite awhile, and I’m just now making the time to sit down and really focus on it – for myself.<br />
<br />
It is hard, really really hard. It is a decision I have to make.<br />
I cannot let it define who I am today, right now.<br />
And I will have to continually remind myself of this going forward.<br />
Yes, I hope for contact, and will continue to hope.<br />
But I cannot hold onto that hope so tightly that it defines me and what I do.<br />
<br />
It is the same with shame.<br />
That is what I see when I look in the mirror, shame. When I hear or think about the words of this song, it is shame that I feel defines me, from the shame I am trying to break free. <br />
<br />
<strong>I</strong> have to define who I am. I have to look myself square in the eyes and acknowledge it, and embrace who I am. No side-stepping, no sugar coating, no wishful thinking, no consideration of turning back time. <br />
<br />
Perhaps this will be the way to start to not be so bound by the constant shame.<br />
I think this is going to be much easier to write than to live by.<br />
<br />
This<a href="http://youtu.be/0XyFK_Uaoh0" target="_blank"> you tube video</a> shows several quotes at the end. This is one of them, <br />
"Other people’s opinion of you does not have to become your reality. -Les Brown”<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">define</span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">my</span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">life</span></div>
<br />Cheerio!http://www.blogger.com/profile/00709663898726245342noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5881694936200344846.post-18931224769680182722013-11-16T16:26:00.000-05:002013-11-16T16:29:04.984-05:00three years ago today<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span> </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-tar3evkZspU/UofhuOdNx1I/AAAAAAAAAmw/RKmEYlcBUVE/s1600/date-circled-calendar-16th.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-tar3evkZspU/UofhuOdNx1I/AAAAAAAAAmw/RKmEYlcBUVE/s320/date-circled-calendar-16th.jpg" width="212" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span> </div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">today - three years ago, I found you.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">at the time I was shaking and so incredibly relieved.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
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<br /></div>
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today I know so much about you, but I still miss you terribly.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
be well, my son. <br />
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
please don't stay away any longer than you have to.<br />
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
k?</div>
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</div>
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</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">please</span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">don't </span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">stay</span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">away</span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">
</span></div>
</span><span style="font-size: x-small;"></span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br /></div>
Cheerio!http://www.blogger.com/profile/00709663898726245342noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5881694936200344846.post-18855325978099482182013-10-25T18:47:00.003-04:002013-10-25T18:49:33.702-04:00burn it all<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">sometimes I wonder</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;"></span> </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">if</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;"></span> </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">it would have been better</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;"></span> </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">had </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;"></span> </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">I</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;"></span> </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">not </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;"></span> </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">found you</span></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-023I-FGhQyU/Umr0P2dd0zI/AAAAAAAAAmM/jPn-LYdiKRo/s1600/burning_paper.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-023I-FGhQyU/Umr0P2dd0zI/AAAAAAAAAmM/jPn-LYdiKRo/s640/burning_paper.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Ironically I found this graphic on a<a href="http://www.michiganquarterlyreview.com/2013/08/a-poetics-of-forgetting/" target="_blank"> blog post about forgetting</a></div>
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</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">maybe</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">finding you</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">was</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">another huge mistake</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">I've made</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
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</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">found</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"> - </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">still lost</span></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Cheerio!http://www.blogger.com/profile/00709663898726245342noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5881694936200344846.post-79161270361033767902013-09-28T18:37:00.000-04:002013-09-28T18:49:21.612-04:00his voice<span style="background-color: #fff2cc; color: #6fa8dc; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">his voice</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #fff2cc; color: #6fa8dc; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">i don't know why I do this to myself, </span><br />
<span style="background-color: #fff2cc; color: #6fa8dc; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">but I found more stuff online relating to my son... </span><br />
<span style="background-color: #fff2cc; color: #6fa8dc; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">i found pics from around the time of his High School Graduation</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #fff2cc; color: #6fa8dc; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">(he is quite a handsome young man)</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #fff2cc; color: #6fa8dc; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">and there are some short video/pics of him at his xc events away at college...</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #fff2cc; color: #6fa8dc; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong><span style="background-color: #fff2cc; color: #6fa8dc; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">DUMB, SUPID, PEABRAIN, FOOL THAT I AM</span></strong></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: #fff2cc; color: #6fa8dc; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">just had to keep digging </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: #fff2cc; color: #6fa8dc; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">why didn't I just stop with the three new pictures?</span></div>
<span style="background-color: #fff2cc; color: #6fa8dc; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #fff2cc; color: #6fa8dc; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">- i don' tknow, </span><br />
<span style="background-color: #fff2cc; color: #6fa8dc; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">i guess it's like a little kid picking a scab?</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #fff2cc; color: #6fa8dc; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">i am so curious, </span><br />
<span style="background-color: #fff2cc; color: #6fa8dc; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">i am also very happy for him relating to good things in his life, to see him smiling and doing what he seems passionate about</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #fff2cc; color: #6fa8dc; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #fff2cc; color: #6fa8dc; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">i found a video of an xc event this month, and after the race, the person wandered around asking guys how they felt about their time.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #fff2cc; color: #6fa8dc; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">and so, </span><br />
<span style="background-color: #fff2cc; color: #6fa8dc; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">19 years later </span><br />
<span style="background-color: #fff2cc; color: #6fa8dc; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #fff2cc; color: #6fa8dc; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I finally get to hear the sound of his voice...from a stupid video!! </span><br />
<span style="background-color: #fff2cc; color: #6fa8dc; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #fff2cc; color: #6fa8dc; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">not over the phone, </span><br />
<span style="background-color: #fff2cc; color: #6fa8dc; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">not skype, </span><br />
<span style="background-color: #fff2cc; color: #6fa8dc; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">not f2f, </span><br />
<span style="background-color: #fff2cc; color: #6fa8dc; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">but some stupid impersonal video...</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #fff2cc; color: #6fa8dc; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #fff2cc; color: #6fa8dc; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">it is so hard being on the outside. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: #fff2cc; color: #6fa8dc; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #fff2cc; color: #6fa8dc; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">yeah, I know - I know, </span><br />
<span style="background-color: #fff2cc; color: #6fa8dc; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">patience patience patience</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #fff2cc; color: #6fa8dc; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #fff2cc; color: #6fa8dc; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">He is happy, he is healthy, he is in a good direction for life ... </span><br />
<span style="background-color: #fff2cc; color: #6fa8dc; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">yes, it brings both relief and genuine happiness for him</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #fff2cc; color: #6fa8dc; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #fff2cc; color: #6fa8dc; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">at the same time</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #fff2cc; color: #6fa8dc; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">i am tired of finding stuff about him </span><br />
<span style="background-color: #fff2cc; color: #6fa8dc; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">- it always leads me back to this place of more hurt from still missing him</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #fff2cc; color: #6fa8dc; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #fff2cc; color: #6fa8dc; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #fff2cc; color: #6fa8dc; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">i don't want to know "about him" - i just want a chance to get to know him</span><br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="background-color: #fff2cc; color: #6fa8dc; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="background-color: #fff2cc; color: #6fa8dc; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-small;">hearing</span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="background-color: #fff2cc; color: #6fa8dc; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-small;">his</span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="background-color: #fff2cc; color: #6fa8dc; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-small;">voice</span></div>
<br />Cheerio!http://www.blogger.com/profile/00709663898726245342noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5881694936200344846.post-2881255431370136812013-09-18T23:33:00.001-04:002013-09-19T09:47:22.535-04:00five years agoNot really expecting any replies ...<br />
<br />
I have been struggling a lot with depression lately.<br />
Last Friday I was just so glum, even the forced smile was obviously fake.<br />
<br />
I can't write about it now, but I lost my "little princess" my sweet little Pussy Willow early August.<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rvwR9XGjNIQ/Ujr_vQXxYfI/AAAAAAAAAlo/6K9RAjawGiQ/s1600/Willow+kitten+and+Cheerio.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rvwR9XGjNIQ/Ujr_vQXxYfI/AAAAAAAAAlo/6K9RAjawGiQ/s400/Willow+kitten+and+Cheerio.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pussy Willow kitten n Cheerio</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Not able to fall asleep or sleeping well.<br />
I haven't even been sleeping in my own bedroom -- which has been "Willow World" for the past several years. That was her room, her territory, her domain. So going in there to sleep just isn't possible.<br />
<br />
I think the sadness is combined with that event<a href="http://cheerios-world.blogspot.com/2009/11/our-babies.html" target="_blank"> 5 years ago</a>. I didn't even tell my hubby when it was the anniversary - I just cried myself to sleep. <br />
<br />
Monday I called a friend and she let me talk about it. Tuesday I was in a much much better place.<br />
<br />
anyway, not an exciting post ... just reflecting, I guess<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">five</span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">years </span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">ago</span></div>
Cheerio!http://www.blogger.com/profile/00709663898726245342noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5881694936200344846.post-44285577164588065632013-09-13T18:23:00.002-04:002013-09-13T18:26:13.947-04:00Where there are boundaries, there is safety?<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">My last blog post was end of May – over three months ago.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There have been so many situations since then
I’ve wanted to blog about.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But as a
full-time student working a full-time job, blogging time is very limited (to
non-existent). <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Perhaps it would be faster
to record an audio file than it would be to type, which would allow me to share
more of what is swirling around in my brain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The post in May was about my son’s high school graduation.
It seems that the well is dry so often these days.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was really hurting and originally posted
because I was hoping for encouragement.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Instead I was caught off guard by the responses I got on FB.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Now, let me make it clear that I am not upset with anyone
who commented to that post.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am just
taking that discussion and blogging it, because I feel the subject of
boundaries that surfaced is very important.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I have read MANY discussions about adoptive parents “setting boundaries”
against the original parent(s).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But don’t
recall boundaries being discussed between original mothers relating to our
children when they are older.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Healthy boundaries are different for every one of us,
whether we are original parents, adoptees, or adoptive parents.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We all need to figure out our own healthy
boundary lines – even with relationships having nothing to do with adoption.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sometimes we move or change those boundaries
as we grow personally. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hRDYwUpAsa4/UjOQN517oYI/AAAAAAAAAlY/--RxylI181k/s1600/gate+and+fence.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="449" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hRDYwUpAsa4/UjOQN517oYI/AAAAAAAAAlY/--RxylI181k/s640/gate+and+fence.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">So, back to the graduation thread … </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Several responses had to do with the idea that I should
“just go to his graduation.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I tried to
explain that around here, you don’t “just go” to a graduation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Seating is limited and they give out tickets
in advance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You do not get in the door
without a ticket.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Apparently not all
High School Graduation ceremonies are like this across the country, but here it
is not open to the public.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">*Even with this information one response was that I could go
to the graduation anyway and just sit out in the parking lot in my car.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I know the woman who suggested this is hurting very much and
gets very little information about her young son, and that makes me sad for
her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At the same time the suggestion was
out of the question for me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My own
boundary is that I will not do anything to cause me to hide and duck from
police/security.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Where is the honor in
that?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Think too for a few moments about the violence we’ve seen
this past year on school grounds.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
imagine any one responsible for security would be more vigilant than ever to
look for anything “out of place.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Imagine, had I gone, and was asked or leave or arrested, imagine
if my son witnessed that?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He would be
mortified!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Imagine if one of his
classmates saw it – my son would be embarrassed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Imagine if it would have ended up in the
local paper!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>None of those situations
would bring about positive results.</span></div>
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">*Another was asking that if I did go and sit out in the
parking lot, wouldn’t it make me feel good just knowing he was in that building?</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Quite frankly, no, it would not. If anything, it would have
made me feel WORSE – knowing that he was in there and I was not invited, but
excluded. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">That was <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">his</b> big
day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I did not want to do anything to
take the spotlight off him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Knowing full
well that his adoptive family is there, I did not want to do anything to put
him in an awkward situation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even if
deep inside he would have wanted to invite me, it would have likely caused too
much turmoil for him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The reality is that I am second fiddle right now, and
sitting in a parking lot would have only been a stark reminder of how
incredibly true this is.</span></div>
<br />
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<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>*Another push-back I
got was asking how showing up at his graduation would be different from going
to any of his sporting events over the past two years.</span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Regular readers here know that we (my husband/his father and
I) have gone to see our son at a few track/cross country events.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We went to the larger events that would have
a larger crowd and each one was a public event.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>There have been some events I found out about, such as one that was not
sports related.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I did not know if it
was open to the public, therefore I did not go.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">To me there is a very clear distinction between public and
private space.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is actually my first
test to determine if something is within a healthy boundary or not.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I believe it is crucial to respect his
private space.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He is not a seven year
old boy, and I need to allow him to have privacy and I must respect his private
space.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His adoptive parents do not “own” him and
neither do I.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
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<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">*One last comment I want to mention was the input “But he
has not told you to stay away.”</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">My thought on this is – Exactly!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nor do I want to provoke him to the point
that he would have to tell me to stay away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I feel that I must weigh all of my actions carefully to avoid this kind
of negative confrontation.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">If I were to continue acting with the frame of mind “he
didn’t tell me no” – and I do that over and over again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If it finally gets to a point that he would
actually tell me no, then I have already crossed one of his boundaries and it
would then be much harder trying to repair the damage. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I hope that restraint will be worth something someday.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have known his last name for almost three
years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In that time I have not been to
his high school, his hometown, or driven by his home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">All opportunities to watch at public events are over now as he
went off to college last month – eight hours away in another state.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That will be <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">his</b> territory.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We won’t be
able to watch, unless he opens the door and <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">invites us into his space</b>.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">So those are my self-imposed boundaries.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am not ashamed of any actions I have or
have not taken.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I also think these
boundaries keep us from falling into a stalker category. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Open for discussion, ideas, or thoughts. . . How did you
approach finding healthy boundaries with your adult adopted son or daughter?</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: x-small;">Healthy</span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Boundaries</span></span></div>
Cheerio!http://www.blogger.com/profile/00709663898726245342noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5881694936200344846.post-41430257100818028482013-05-22T19:35:00.000-04:002013-05-22T19:38:50.998-04:00Milestones<br />
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This needs to be a short post, as summer classes have started and I have a few chapters to read before class tomorrow night.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="color: blue; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
The past few months have had their ups and downs, with some down times being darker and valleys deeper. I am thankful that I have a good network to lean on during those times. It worries me that my son may not have such support.</div>
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<br /></div>
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It is hard to believe it was two and a half years ago that I ‘found’ my son.</div>
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I did not attempt direct contact until his 18th birthday last fall.</div>
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<br /></div>
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I have often used the analogy of a double paned window. Until his 18th birthday both windows were closed, the ones on my side as well as the ones on his side. When he turned 18 and I sent him our full names with contact information, it was as if I had opened the window on our side.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="color: blue; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
While that is great and fantastic, it isn’t the end of story.</div>
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It isn’t time for contact or reunion yet, because he needs to get to the place where he too opens the window on his side.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="color: blue; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
I have done what I can do, and the rest is up to him at this point.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="color: blue; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
BUT that does not mean I am in the clear. I still need to be very careful with everything I do, because it will influence his willingness or resistance to opening that window.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="color: blue; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
This is his senior year of high school, and it has been wrought with incredibly painful milestones. Each milestone is a wonderful celebration for him, his progress, his growth, and his accomplishments. These steps he is taking as he is closing this chapter in his life before beginning a new one. This is good. He has worked hard and it is paying off.</div>
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<br /></div>
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At the same time, it is difficult to sit here still being an observer in the shadows as he approaches and then passes these milestones.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="color: blue; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
I remember co-workers showing off senior pictures of their son, or niece, or other relatives they’re proud of. I enjoyed sharing in their joyful moments. For my son, I was hopeful he or his parents would send a senior picture, but I should have known better.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="color: blue; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
Early this spring, he, and other classmates signed their intent to stay involved in athletics when going off to college. You should see the big smile on his face in that picture! He’s a tall kid and easy to pick out in the group. But I see this from the still-closed window. I know of his college plans from a newspaper article.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="color: blue; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
The Friday before Mother’s day was their Senior Prom. But he didn’t excitedly (or nervously) tell me about it, instead I found the date and information on their class blog. I have not been able to find any hints or clues of him going to the prom. If he did, it is another milestone where he was most likely smiling and I’ve missed it.</div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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In two weeks he will graduate from high school. I know the date, place, and time the ceremonies will be held – thanks to the information online. He should be proud. Even though we won’t get invitations to the ceremony or a party, we are still proud, very proud of him.</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-QsF5KX0dPxI/UZ1VUosqsrI/AAAAAAAAAkQ/wpMc6mC3pIc/s1600/2013-Graduation-Announcement-Image.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="306" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-QsF5KX0dPxI/UZ1VUosqsrI/AAAAAAAAAkQ/wpMc6mC3pIc/s400/2013-Graduation-Announcement-Image.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div style="color: blue; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
This past weekend was the district track and field competition. He did well in the league championships and was seeded to do well in his events for districts. While Mr. Cheerio and I went to watch him run, it was such a difficult time realizing that this was his last track event of the school year; therefore it was my last chance to see him until – until who knows when. </div>
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<br /></div>
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Back to the window analogy; not only has his side of the window remained closed, now the curtain has shut.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="color: blue; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
I am left here in darkness and silence.</div>
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There is no future date to look forward to anymore.</div>
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No more glimpses at running events. No more news articles with pieces of information. No more online pictures.</div>
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What do I do to recover now?</div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="color: blue; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">How</span></div>
<div style="color: blue; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Do</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">I</span></div>
<div style="color: blue; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Recover</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Now</span></div>
<div style="color: blue; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">???</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="color: blue; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
(sounds like another post for another day)</div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
<br />Cheerio!http://www.blogger.com/profile/00709663898726245342noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5881694936200344846.post-82813943235274402032013-01-17T21:59:00.001-05:002013-01-19T11:17:58.075-05:00The power of being a Birth Mother<span style="color: blue; font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><br />This is a very personal thread today. </span><br />
<span style="color: blue; font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">I want to show the progression of change since the last time I saw my son, 19 years ago. </span><br />
<span style="color: blue; font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">A picture is worth a thousand words, and these three say it all.</span><br />
<span style="color: blue; font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">This is a picture of me just after the adoption was finalized.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-S8CH9840RYw/UPi4vPkzTBI/AAAAAAAAAjU/JySQlvn7QDs/s1600/Picture+of+birthmom+after+rights+terminated_me.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="254" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-S8CH9840RYw/UPi4vPkzTBI/AAAAAAAAAjU/JySQlvn7QDs/s320/Picture+of+birthmom+after+rights+terminated_me.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="color: blue; font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"></span><span style="color: blue; font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"></span><br />
<span style="color: blue; font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"></span><span style="color: blue; font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">This is a collage of pictures of me during my son’s childhood years. </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VUwnkfR1q_k/UPi43-LcarI/AAAAAAAAAjc/Bw9FYmrQRDY/s1600/Picture+of+birthmom+son+is+a+child_me.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="254" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VUwnkfR1q_k/UPi43-LcarI/AAAAAAAAAjc/Bw9FYmrQRDY/s320/Picture+of+birthmom+son+is+a+child_me.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="color: blue; font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">This is another collection of random pictures of me as my son was maturing into a teenager. He is now 18 and a legal adult. Included below is a shot around his 18th birthay when I sent him our names and contact information.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WaD6lv1GIAU/UPi5ErltUlI/AAAAAAAAAjk/4iLlvHtPe1E/s1600/Picture+of+birthmom+19+years+later_me.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="254" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WaD6lv1GIAU/UPi5ErltUlI/AAAAAAAAAjk/4iLlvHtPe1E/s320/Picture+of+birthmom+19+years+later_me.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="color: blue; font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: blue; font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">What did you notice about me throughout this journey?<br />What you couldn't see me in the pictures?!?! I am there, it's just that, well, I am invisible.</span><br />
<span style="color: blue; font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: blue; font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">1st pic of Invisible Me -- Once the adoption was finalized, the adoption agency was not concerned about me anymore. They got what they wanted, a fresh womb-wet white healthy baby to sell.</span><br />
<span style="color: blue; font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: blue; font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">2nd pic of Invisible Me --The aparents sent me pictures until he started kindergarten, and then I became invisible to them too.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: blue; font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">3rd pic of Invisible Me -- My son is now a teenager and old enough to contact us when he is ‘ready’ for contact, but right now I am invisible to him too.</span><br />
<span style="color: blue; font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: blue; font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>STOP </b></span>with the marketed brainwashing rhetoric that birthmothers are brave<br />Or that they are heroic<br />Or that they are making a selfless choice</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: blue; font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Just stop – it is a bunch of lies made up by people who want to make money from legally selling babies – callously severing the sacred mother/child bond to fatten their wallet</span><br />
<span style="color: blue; font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">We were <b>vulnerable </b>and <b>exploited</b>, so cut the pretty words and use the real ones</span><br />
<span style="color: blue; font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"></span><br />
<span style="color: blue; font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">If you are considering adoption for your baby – be prepared for a life of being invisible.</span><br />
<span style="color: blue; font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"> </span><br />
<span style="color: blue; font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Once you let go of your baby you will become invisible and powerless. You are no longer necessary and you won’t matter anymore. 80% of open adoptions close - you really want to take a risk like that? Let me guess, your social worker didn't mention adoptions closing?</span><br />
<span style="color: blue; font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: blue; font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">The being invisible -- </span><br />
<span style="color: blue; font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">It stings when it comes from the agency. You blame yourself for believing them, even though they were so convincing and painted such beautiful pictures. Being masters of deception it seemed they genuinely cared about you. How were you supposed to know they would drop you like a dirty diaper?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: blue; font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">It hurts when the betrayal comes from your child’s aparents. How could they? We trusted them with our own flesh and blood – how could they<u> </u> fill in the blank because it’s all happened. With semi-open promises of updates and pictures that are no longer sent. Perhaps, it is e-mails in a more open agreement that stop or go unanswered. Maybe they’ve moved away, leaving you no forwarding address or information. How could they? The answer is simple – because we are invisible to them.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: blue; font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">All of that is much easier to bear than when it’s from your own son / your own daughter. I know it has only been a few months and he “needs time.” I just can’t shove off the feelings of being invisible, insignificant, and worthless. </span><br />
<span style="color: blue; font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"></span><br />
<span style="color: blue; font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Only he can decide if/when he wants to make contact. And I have no guarantee that he ever will – none of us do. </span><br />
<span style="color: blue; font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Will I be invisible in the casket too?</span><br />
<span style="color: blue; font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"></span><br />
<span style="color: blue; font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"></span><br />
<span style="color: blue; font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">If you are considering adoption for you baby – it is nothing like you imagine. All the doubts you’ve stuffed while listening to the sweet social worker, all the questions you refused to ponder. They’ll come back to visit you again and again, whether awake or in your dreams. They'll haunt you.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: blue; font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">So, if you are considering adoption for your baby, the day you let go of him or her you may as well walk to the nearest toilet and flush your self worth – because that is what adoption will do to it anyway.</span><br />
<span style="color: blue; font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"></span><br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace; font-size: x-small;">Invisible</span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace; font-size: x-small;">and</span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace; font-size: x-small;">Powerless</span></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<br /></div>
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Cheerio!http://www.blogger.com/profile/00709663898726245342noreply@blogger.com36tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5881694936200344846.post-82024241915504535552013-01-12T17:07:00.000-05:002013-01-12T17:08:05.382-05:00Ornaments, Traditions, and New Year's wishes<br />
<span style="color: red; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Eighteen years ago when I sent a package for my son’s first Christmas, I included a keepsake ornament. I bought two that year and it became a tradition each Christmas I would buy two ornaments, sending one and keeping the other. There was only one requirement when selecting the perfect ornament – it had to have at least two characters (symbolizing both of his original parents). </span><br />
<span style="color: red; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<span style="color: red; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<span style="color: red; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">This is a picture of that first ornament. </span><br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_W961CaqvpY/UPHd8SoHfxI/AAAAAAAAAi4/_Fv7CmpJFrA/s1600/Babys+First+Christmas_ornament.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_W961CaqvpY/UPHd8SoHfxI/AAAAAAAAAi4/_Fv7CmpJFrA/s400/Babys+First+Christmas_ornament.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /><span style="color: red;"></span></span>
<span style="color: red; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Such detail and it captures the complete opposite of what happened that first year, Baby’s 1st Christmas. Instead of him sleeping all snuggled in his crib while his daddy and look on in awe, wonder, and love – he is sleeping in some other crib and I am miles apart unable to sleep, tormented, and bawling my eyes out every night.</span><br />
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<span style="color: red; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">If the New Year could bring wishes, I wish everyone that thinks adoption is beautiful could see me now. Not just see me with their naked eyeball, but to see me with their eyes closed, to sense and feel what I feel right now. Do you imagine serenity and peacefulness like a freshly fallen snow?</span><br />
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<span style="color: red; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">It is January 8th. Another Christmas has come and gone. </span><br />
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<span style="color: red; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Christmas is just such a painful time. For others it may be a time for celebration, but for me it is a time of intense and deep sadness without my son. I hate Christmas. I hate decorating. I hate getting the ornaments out. Putting them away is even harder. </span><br />
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<span style="color: red; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I am at home by myself as I begin to take the ornaments off the tree. The ornament boxes are laying out on the couch – in chronological order by year, waiting for me to put everything back into storage for another year. </span><br />
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<span style="color: red; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">As usual I begin taking down each ornament, beginning with the current year and work back in time, until they are all carefully put it back in their boxes. This year it is more painful than most. I found myself pondering each ornament and thinking about why that ornament was selected. I wondered if what he thought of it (if he even got it at all). It stings. Each ornament hurt more than the prior one so I quickly removed them all at once from the tree. </span><br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0mm79Tife2k/UPHeaBSVB0I/AAAAAAAAAjA/aVEzWWZu1IA/s1600/Hallmark+Keepsake+Christmas+Ornaments.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0mm79Tife2k/UPHeaBSVB0I/AAAAAAAAAjA/aVEzWWZu1IA/s400/Hallmark+Keepsake+Christmas+Ornaments.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: red; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<span style="color: red; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Every ornament symbolizes a year of separation – not just a separation of measured distance or periods marked by the calendar, but a separation of our relationship growing further and further apart. I don’t know if or when that separation will ever come to an end.</span><br />
<span style="color: red; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<span style="color: red; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">My heart is crushed and pained at how much I miss him, pierced to know I’ve wounded him. </span><br />
<span style="color: red; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Once again, this is all there is ‘of’ my son.</span><br />
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<span style="color: red; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Lifeless eyes painted on cold unmoving plastic, and silence.</span></div>
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<span style="color: red; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span><span style="color: red; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-small;">If the New Year could bring wishes<br />I wish everyone could see this adoption pain</span></div>
Cheerio!http://www.blogger.com/profile/00709663898726245342noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5881694936200344846.post-91043842585452877842012-12-01T00:42:00.002-05:002013-01-25T16:30:23.478-05:00penguin pandemonium<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So it is that time of year again ... Christmas.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Tonight I am looking at penguin patterns - deciding what I'll use to make my son's amom's Christmas gift.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">If you want the back-story </span><a href="http://cheerios-world.blogspot.com/2008/11/pillows-for-hard-heart.html" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">click here.</span></a><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">That post ended with the pillows. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The following year I made her a penguin tote.</span></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lHoK3UkWgk8/ULmJ-DV4xgI/AAAAAAAAAhs/kbfCiGnu4Rc/s1600/Penguin+Reversible+Tote.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lHoK3UkWgk8/ULmJ-DV4xgI/AAAAAAAAAhs/kbfCiGnu4Rc/s400/Penguin+Reversible+Tote.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I embroidered her first name initial on one of the larger penguins in the center ... </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">on the other side, in the corner on one of the smaller penguins I embroidered my initial too.</span></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-BHS8xSRRR1A/ULmTbypF_EI/AAAAAAAAAiU/oG8XeYmEwm8/s1600/penguine+embroider.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-BHS8xSRRR1A/ULmTbypF_EI/AAAAAAAAAiU/oG8XeYmEwm8/s320/penguine+embroider.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The next year I made penguin place mats. Not very exciting, but I did use expensive silver thread to accent with.</span></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rGxB0C2fZcw/ULmMBIwfDeI/AAAAAAAAAh0/vC-xlL-g-lM/s1600/penguins+iceskating+placemats.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rGxB0C2fZcw/ULmMBIwfDeI/AAAAAAAAAh0/vC-xlL-g-lM/s400/penguins+iceskating+placemats.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Last year I planned to make her beaded earrings. However, I had never done bead work before and did not expect the thing to turn out 2" long!!! So instead I made it into a simple pendent on a simple beaded necklace. </span></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-k7Ds1bn9U4g/ULmWXZ5xjmI/AAAAAAAAAik/x1tngRWsXKI/s1600/penguin+beaded+pendant+and+necklace.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="265" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-k7Ds1bn9U4g/ULmWXZ5xjmI/AAAAAAAAAik/x1tngRWsXKI/s400/penguin+beaded+pendant+and+necklace.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I should have turned it into a pin, but I had to get it done THAT day so I could drive it to the ungodly agency to forward the package on.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span> </div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It was very interesting doing bead work like that. It was those teeny tiny seed beads.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Let me tell you, it took h o u r s. I would love to make a choker necklace with seed beads like that some day. It would be very cool. Black with a few light blue flowers.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Oh, sorry, I got distracted. That's the way it is with a crafty mind ... it is hard to keep up with it sometimes. And interestingly enough, several years what I made her for Christmas turned into ideas of what to make friends and family for Christmas too.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The year of the pillows I made pillows for everyone at work, and for all my sisters and nieces, my dad and mom, my hubby's entire family. Each one was unique. I didn't realize pillows would be so much like bunnies.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The same with the yea I made the totes. I made over a dozen of them as gifts. I picked designs for specific people. From winter snow birdies, to Victorian roses, to bats, to flames and motorcycles.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Since making this one first, I've made a bunch of knot blankets as gifts.</span></div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-i9FrUgjpg08/ULmQ0TeKpjI/AAAAAAAAAiE/JCGN_zSbphU/s1600/penguin+knott+blanket.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-i9FrUgjpg08/ULmQ0TeKpjI/AAAAAAAAAiE/JCGN_zSbphU/s400/penguin+knott+blanket.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So why do I do this?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Because it is clearly who I am.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I am creative and I love to make stuff for people.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I love to see their face light up.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">When I started making gifts for her, it was back before they closed the door.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Once the pictures stopped, I was still the same person, and so I continue to send gifts.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Granted they're not worth a whole lot, but I made them especially for her. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">A simple 'thank you' would have been nice, but it has never happened. It probably never will.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">When we expect anything in return, it is no longer a gift. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">These are gifts, because it is who I am.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">However, </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">there will only ever be </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;"></span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-djypFnZytpQ/STIcCUfMegI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/9XviEl4o_JA/s1600/Fuzzie_trimmed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-djypFnZytpQ/STIcCUfMegI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/9XviEl4o_JA/s320/Fuzzie_trimmed.jpg" width="208" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span><br />
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just one</div>
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Fuzzie.</div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span> </div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">penguin</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">pandemonium</span></div>
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<br />Cheerio!http://www.blogger.com/profile/00709663898726245342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5881694936200344846.post-47184757738913798782012-11-24T17:00:00.000-05:002012-11-24T17:00:44.999-05:00the Wishbone<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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The Wishbone</div>
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For me Thanksgiving has not been a happy holiday for a very
long time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How could I be happy? It is
only a month after my son’s birthday and everyone in the country is talking
about family traditions, family recipes, family this, and family that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My heart just hurts for the family I gave
away – and how much I miss him.</div>
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This year I keep thinking about that tradition of breaking
the wishbone. </div>
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If a turkey was on your Thanksgiving table perhaps you kept
the wishbone aside.</div>
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Do you remember the ‘rules?’</div>
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First is to not break the wishbone while carving the turkey.</div>
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After removing the wishbone from the bird clean it and sit
it aside to dry.</div>
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You can’t really break it until the bone has dried, so you
wait.</div>
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Finally the day comes when you each hold an end of the
wishbone and pull.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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Whoever gets the larger end wins – and they get to make a
wish! </div>
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I remember a few times as a kid breaking the wishbone with
my older sister.</div>
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This year I was pondering this whole practice, and thinking
about how unlucky it is from the wishbone’s point of view. Something in my little head snapped as I realized that
adoptees are usually the wishbone in the whole mess of adoption.</div>
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I kept thinking of my son and how I hope to hear from him,
allthewhile realizing all the reasons of why I probably won’t.</div>
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I can’t imagine how ‘pulled’ he may be feeling right now </div>
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– pulled by the wishes of his adoptive family</div>
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– pulled by the hopes from his original family</div>
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I don’t want to hurt him, </div>
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So I passively? Fearfully? Hopefully? Almost patiently? wait</div>
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If/when he reaches out and there is a chance for reunion,</div>
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I don’t want to be party to him being torn, or splintered</div>
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–as if it is competition between me and his aparents </div>
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Yes, I understand that the very fact he is adopted and has
two sets of parents</div>
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He may already feel like he has to choose</div>
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But I don’t want it to be a pressure that comes from me,</div>
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I would not want it to become a lucky wishbone pull with him
in the middle</div>
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If his aparents feel that way, I would have to let go of ‘my
end’ of the wishbone,</div>
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I just don’t want to hurt him like that. </div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">No </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">wishbone</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"> pulling </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">contest</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"> here</span></div>
Cheerio!http://www.blogger.com/profile/00709663898726245342noreply@blogger.com0