2011 Adoptee Rights Demonstration in San Antonio Texas

Please take a moment to read posts on this blog - http://adopteerightscoalition.blogspot.com/ I hope that it will help you find one way (or more!) that you could show support to the Adoptee you Love! I've tested it, and their link for a donation (of any denomination) is fast, easy, and safe!

I'm afraid to attempt a list

of all the adoptees, I love,

for fear I'll miss some names -

But I'll say that it would include all the adoptees (and other Original Moms) I met & reunited with at the

Adoptee Rights Demonstration in Louisville, Kentucky 2010

And the Adoptees (and other Original Moms) that welcomed me with big, huge, gigantic wide open arms at and the

Adoptee Rights Demonstration in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania 2009

The adoptees I Love would also include

FB Friends,

CafeMom friends,

as well as the Adoptee Forum Friends

you All have made an incredible and positive difference in my life!!!

If you've happened upon this blog from some other google search, and you don't have an "adoptee you love" in your life - we still welcome your support as we fight for Equal Access for All Adoptees in the US no red tape no extra fees no special requests to a judge Simply to walk in to a Vital Statistics Office, fill out the form as every other person in the state, pay the same fee, and walk out with one's Own Original Birth Certificate

Candy Wrappers and Miracles at the Sign Making Party

There is this tradition with the ARD that I need to share about. It is the traiditional “Sign Making Party” [SMP] the night before the actual demonstration.

I like this tradition, a LOT. In fact, if anyone is considering joining for a Demonstration in the future, you must, must MUST participate in the SMP. Why? What’s goes on that someone absolutely MUST be there? Well, let’s start with the obvious, since that’s a part I often overlook. We make signs, yup, signs; as in the ones to be carried during our demonstration the next day.

We all pile into one room with poster board, paint, markers, glitter, sticks, staple gun, and duct tape. At some point pizza is brought in to refresh the starving and weary. We also review the route and listen to instructions for the demonstration.

I don’t know whose idea it was, but this year there was a mini talk on what to say or not say, suggestions for breaking the ice, etc. I found this to be very helpful, because I tend to clam up around strangers and since I’m a newbie, I’m worried that I might say the wrong thing(s). A point was made during this ‘workshop’ that I’ll come back around to in another post. So, Hats OFF to the person who made this suggestion! Loved it!

During the Sign Making Party is also an opportunity to help with other tasks for either the demonstration itself, or for the booth at the convention center.

Since I like being a behind the scenes invisible helper, I didn’t mind doing tedious things that don’t get attention or accolades. I just want to help, and if folding t-shirts helps free up another person to do something else – I’ll fold t-shirts. And, why stop at folding t-shirts when you can get thousands of paper cuts from folding miniature candy wrappers? Just kidding, I don’t think I got any paper cuts, but not kidding about the mini candy wrappers. Potential for paper cuts was definitely there!

I don’t think it’s obvious, but in the picture above, there were bags and bags of miniature candy bars (Hershey Chocolate, Mr Goodbar, and my personal favorite the Special Dark).

Our Graphics Genius measured the candy bars and designed awesome re-wrap covers. These incredible little re-wrap covers were in blue, red, green, and yellow.

She also threw herself into the project with printing various slogans such as; “Separate is not Equal,” “Restore our Rights,” “Why is my Birth Certificate Sealed?” and other catchy phrases.

As if designing and printing them was not enough, she had already re-wrapped 600 of these sweet little goodies BEFORE the sing making event! (I did not ask how many she ate in the process.)

It was a beautiful thing to behold that she saw the importance of keeping the colors together in their own separate zip lock bags (I’m sure it is what I would’ve done too). Shocking as it sounds, I was able to actually sit (sort of) in one place (most of the time) to help fold these. Using the glue dots was out of my league apparently. I tried one candy wrapper and ended up with several glue dots on my nails, fingers, and other hand.

While folding the Candy Wrappers, it gave me the opportunity to just observe and listen. It was the time I could look around the room and see unfolding before me the absolute best part of this event. Sure, other things are nice, making signs, eating pizza, educating each other, and taking pictures of Dan the Biker Glitter Man ...


but the most important thing,
I think,
that happens at the SMP is the bonding.

There is a great deal of irony in this, because bonding, trust, and building relationships is something that I’ve heard many adoptees express difficulty with throughout their lives.

Yet, here in one room a miracle is taking place as adoptees feel ‘safe’ to share their stories, their struggles, their victories, their pain – because they know that the person listening “gets it”. Here is that time and place where they don’t have to worry about being told how they should feel – that they should be grateful that they were separated from their original families, that they should be loyal to the parents that raised them, that they should get over their imaginary ideas of feeling abandoned, that they should …

No, this is a place and time that they can truly open up and talk honestly about what being adopted means to them. Some endured abusive homes growing up, some grew up feeling like they did not fit into their family, some grew up with all the love and care a kid could ever hope for, yet they still feel the same deep loss of their original family, as the others feel.

And as I sat there folding Candy Wrappers, I get to witness this miracle happening right before my very eyes.

There may be one or two people who are still foggy with pro-adoption rhetoric, but they are not the majority. Hopefully they’re wise enough to see what is going on around them, and that pro-adoption rhetoric surfaces pain, not healing. Hopefully they’re wise enough to learn from this event and would walk away with a different perspective, a different viewpoint and begin to question their own loyalty to a practice that produces such heinous results of lifelong pain that grips a person down to the unreachable depths and core of their being.

But there are only a few of ‘them’. It’s their loss, really to be on the outside of the circle.

On the inside there is laughter, hugs, some tears, a LOT of understanding, warmth, acceptance, openness, and I dare say … Love.

Candy Wrappers and Miracles at the Sign Making Party

THIS JUST IN ....

This Just In … WE APOLOGIZE FOR THE INCONVENIENCE; however, THE ORIGINALLY SCHEDULED BLOG PST pertaining to the LOUISVILLE ADOPTEE RIGHTS DEMONSTRATION is being interrupted

with

this important news flash …

Just arrived inbox of Cheerio’s e-mail …

-> You have received this message as a subscriber of this list. Questions about this advertisement, or questions about advertising with us, should be directed to: Offer-Whiz 60 29th Street #110 San Francisco, California 94110 ****** What a lovely group of baby pimps. This was Cheerio's reply to this marketing company- as this 'ad' shows so clearly what adoption agencies/professionals try so hard to deny. That Adooption is NOT about the needs of a child, but about the desires of adults. "AdoptionServices@offer-whiz-mailings.com" "She's ALL Yours" THAT right there is what is wrong with adoption, they treat human beings like products or something that can be owned! She is a human being, and she has already a momma, a momma that she loves, a momma whose voice she recognizes before she is born into this world of adoption wolves! How can you sleep at night treating little human beings like boxed baby dolls with upc codes on their bottoms, and a price tag on their arm? How Can YOU? How pathetic, shameful, and greedy making money off of baby selling! Thank you for this Ad, I'm going to be sure to blog about you this week.

****

While this baby pimping add 'interrupts' the theme of talking about the Adoptee Rights Demonstration, at the same time, it ties into it perfectly. We need to change the laws in order to treat the adoptee as a human being. They are not a commodity that neither the adopting parents nor the original parents own rights to. It is the adoptee's birth certificate... unless you believe this whole "she's all yours" mentality, then stick to your human trafficking point of view and oppose thier basic right to their original identity.

She's

a human being

not

For Profit!

Louisville here I come!

In Cheerio’s world, things don’t follow a normal predictable pattern. In fact, it’s better to expect the unexpected. I’ve posted twice about the Adoptee Rights Demonstration which was on Sunday, you’d think the normal would be to proceed to events Sunday evening. But NOT in Cheerio’s world! We are going to instead push the clock hands wayyyy back to Friday. Friday afternoon, 7/9/2010 is when I arrived in Louisville.

Waiting outside airport for hotel shuttle

It was nice and warm sitting outside waiting for the hotel shuttle to arrive. I admired what another woman was wearing. I don’t know what to call it, it wasn’t a sweater, or hoodie. It wasn’t a jacket, sweatshirt, poncho, or scarf. It was sort of like a shrug. I so wish I had taken a bunch of pictures of it so I could make one for myself – whatever it was! It was BRIGHT orange, almost like my fingernails. It draped over her shoulders and flowed down almost to the ground. In the back in only covered her neck and trapeziums, but ended about her lower back. It was like a wide scarf, which was sewn along the edges for sleeves. It had a relaxed loose fit, and was made of a lightweight material. I’ve GOT to make one for myself! But then I’d probably be too self conscious to wear it in public. Hers was made of a knit, but I’d use a lighter material, maybe muslin or something else light weight. I actually was admiring hers while thinking it would be PERFECT to wear on the day of the Demonstration to keep the sun off my arms.

My Roomie was driving up from Miami and hadn’t arrived yet. So I checked in and dragged my stuff up to the room to unpack before she got there. I picked the bed closest to the door so I could slip out for my coffee first thing in the mornings.

I used one dresser drawer and hung a few things like my “don’t go anywhere without it – puff vest”, winter hoodie, sweatshirt, and my bright orange wind breaker. (Yeah, everyone packs a winter hoodie when the weather forcast is 99 every single day!) I was done unpacking and had eaten most of the gingersnaps when I got a text message from JimM that he’d arrived. I made my way downstairs to reconnect with friends, and hoped we’d head out for some supper soon. As we were talking grub, my Roomie arrived. I helped them unload their pickup truck and then the three of us went out for dinner. End Friday. Saturday morning I woke up early and slipped downstairs for my morning coffee. I expected to bump into others from the group (which is what happened every morning in Philly). But I guess I was up too early because no one was downstairs, not even outside for a smoke. So I decided I’d have my coffee and have a good swimming workout. WeeHaa. After my swim and my 2nd shower, I went back downstairs for breakfast and there were people from our group everywhere! It was GREAT! Breakfast with the B@stards is a very memorable experience. There’s not a bunch of catty bickering, just a lot of hugs, sharing, listening, and caring. After breakfast folks were planning their days. I asked if I could join the crew headed out for our pre-march walk, to test the path of our demonstration the following day. It was a nice leisurely walk and we even had time to stop and take pictures, like this one.

and this snowy one too...

...doesn't it look like snow sitting in the divits? Well! it did to me!

The Authority decided that since we were there, we may as well go inside and pick up the group’s badges and check out the booth. I knew that I was not in any of the time slots to man the booth during the convention, and I felt honored to be able tag along with this group of determined, fearless, and persistent folks who are fighting tirelessly for adoptee rights.

After that excursion, a bunch of us had lunch on forth street. The salmon on flatbread was excellent! I’m still not too sure about the fried pickle though. I got back to the hotel in time to change and get ready for the sign making party that night. Will post on that later!

Louisville,

Here

We Come

!!!

Message on a Stick

The Signs Were Definately Awesome! Group signs Denied Adoptee A Little boy’s sign--- I did not feel comfortable posting the pic of a boy, even without his name. There was a little boy who was about 5 and he wanted to draw his own Demonstration Poster. It was a white 8 ½ x 11 sheet of paper taped to a stick. He started drawing stars for the American Flag, and people, and the border on both side had tears. Why tears? His Dad found out less than 5 years ago that he is adopted. So this little boy sees first hand that “adoption makes people sad.” Pedigrees Skeletons, Secrets & Lies Adoptive Parents support Moms Birth Cert Hostage/Discrimination Original Identity Basic Human Right Searching Identity So, now that you’ve looked at a good sample of the posters, do you know what this Demonstration was about? What do things like “Original Identity,” “denied,” and “sealed” mean? What do Birth Certificates have to do with all of this “lies,” “secrets,” and “secrecy”? Let’s start with the Poster that Summarizes the Plight of the Adoptee. Born – a child is born. There is a birth certificate listing the (original) mother of this child & sometimes the (original) father is also listed. Adopted - the child is given up for adoption. The mother either voluntarily surrenders her rights to parent the child, or the rights are terminated by the courts. Sealed- The adoption process can take from months to years to complete or to be “finalized.” At the time the adoption is finalized, the Original Birth Certificate (OBC) is sealed by the state and a new Amended Birth Certificate is issued for the adoptee. This Amended Birth Certificates now lists the Adoptive Parents as the Mother and Father of the child. Denied – when the adoptee becomes an adult, they find their requests to obtain their Original/Unamended Birth Certificates is “denied.” It is important to note that there are currently there are only two states that do not seal the original birth certificate and never have sealed them. Kansas is one of those states. Why?

So, what is the goal of this demonstration? It is bring awareness to the discrimination to the 6 million Americans who cannot get their Birth Certificates like all other US citizens. The Goal is to change the laws so that an adoptee, when he/she becomes an adult, can got o their vital statistics department and fill out the exact same forms as a non-adopted person would to request a copy of their Birth Certificate, pay the same price as a non-adoptedperson, and obtain their Birth Certificate without all the delays, red tape, extra fees, hassles, etc. Equal Acces is what is being asked for – not special treatment or special privileges,

simply equal.

Equal

Access

ARDemonstrations 2009 & 2010

It is Monday evening, August 2nd, 2010 and I’ve been home from my trip to Louisville for a few days now. I want to share about that trip before I get dragged too deeply back into the ‘real world’ with work and daily responsibilities. I never did get around to posting about the march in Philadelphia last year. So with this first post about the event, I’ll try to compare the two events.

Adoptee Rights Day, July 21st 2009 – it was a rainy and drizzly morning as we gathered at People’s Plaza, Independence Park before our march down the streets of Philadelphia. There were people among our numbers which were not at the sign making party the night before, because Philly was local enough for them to drive in just for this demonstration.

There were several people filming and cameras everywhere. This was a huge step out into the plain exposing open for me. I’m an open book online, but in real life I was an in the closet original mom. It was a very overwhelming at times. I was very timid, nervous, and even afraid. All the “what if’s” bombarded my brain -- ”What if my picture ends up in a newspaper and people I work with see it? What if my name is printed? What if my son’s family sees an article about the demonstration – will they use it against me to try to cut off contact?”

I think the most vivid memory I will always have about that morning is when Scott Hancock asked me a few questions while his friend filmed our conversation. Scott asked me why I was there, then asked if I am adopted, to which I replied, “No, I’m a natural mom.” We had a brief conversation about the terminology and use of ‘birth mother’, then he continued his interview. Then came the part that is forever in my mind, he asked “Would you look into the camera, state your name, and tell us why you’re here.”

I froze on the inside. I didn’t want to state my name, I was still hiding (from myself), so I took the cowardly avenue and said, “I go by Cheerio and I believe that adoptees have a right to know their original identity and it is not right to try to keep secrets from them. Once they become adults they should have the same rights as every other American citizen.” While my focus was clear, by not stating my name I was definitely chickening out.

Just before we began the march, there was a point where M distributed folders with information sheets so we could hand them out as we talk to people on the streets. I immediately thought “Talk to People???!!! Is she crazy? I can’t TALK to people!!!” I very timidly slinked up to a different organizer and told her I didn’t want to talk to people and she graciously excused me and gave my folder of papers to someone else.

I was like a frightened sheep as we began the march, and I made sure to be in the middle of the crowd, so no one would notice me. I didn’t want to stand too close to the Itty Bitty Big Mouth as she led the chants along our way. “You’ve Got Yours! We want ours!”

The demonstration was on a Tuesday and there were people everywhere! We marched a few blocks, and those few blocks were life changing to me. As we marched along, there were a few occasions that people in the crowd walking the same way would ask questions. There was one young man in particular I remember talking with as we walked along. That brief chat with a complete stranger gave me courage to converse with other pedestrians as we were marching back and forth in front of the convention center.

I learned two very important things that day.

1.   The first thing I learned was that society in general has no idea about this discrimination. 
2.   This leads to the other important thing I learned, they are on the Adoptee’s side! They also feel it is wrong and believe too that adult adooptees have a right to their own original birth certificates.

So, that’s my short summary from the Philadelphia - Adoptee Rights Day 2009.

Fast forward to ARD 2010. I didn’t think I’d be able to go to the ARD this year, but was delighted when my husband said he did not mind if I went solo. Talk about a change in just one year. I don’t know if I could have done it on my own last year, and this year I was going solo for a whole week!

So, that little bit of courage from talking to a stranger on the street last year lasted longer than just the next few hours t hat day. It has grown in the course of the year, and now I have grown and am stronger.

Last year when I told people, “I go by Cheerio,” it was because I was still afraid to giving out my ‘real name.’ This year people still called me Cheerio – but it was not because I was afraid, ashamed or hiding. Some people in real life call me Cheerio too. I even made a Cheerio Button that had a picture of my monkey avatar.

The day of the Demonstration had some noticeable differences from last year. The first noticeable difference was the weather - it was not rainy, and the weather forecast was for 99 degrees, again. There was no relief from the heat in site. But the heat did not wear me down!

The other difference was the volume of foot traffic was notably less, much less. Now, I’m not from Louisville, therefore can’t gauge what normal pedestrian traffic is like on a weekday vs a weekend. But there were not a lot of other pedestrians to mingle with. As we marched back and forth in front of the convention center, there were not a lot of people streaming in or out of the building.

I talked with only two folks, one was a young man on a cell phone who said he agreed and supported us. I asked if he wanted to join our protest? I handed him my sign and took his picture. I’m not sure if he actually talked with anyone else in our group or not, but it makes for a good picture.

The other fellow I spoke with, I pulled in The Authority to help answer his question. Basically his question had to do with Father’s Rights. His example was a woman has a baby and does not list a father. Some time down the road the mother wants child support so she goes after the father for child support. This man’s question to us was “shouldn’t that father have a right to have his name on the birth certificate if he’s going to pay child support?” I agreed with him, that he should have that right.

The Authority explained that unfortunately the one who ‘wins’ the battle is often the one with the most money. She continued on by stating that Father’s Rights are systematically trampled with the adoption process. She encouraged him to find a Father’s Rights group to join.

When people talk about pro-life or pro-choice, I’m neither, I’m pro-family. We need to support families and help them. That includes daddies and Father’s Rights too.

The rest of the time I talked with other marcher’s (but that I believe is another blog post).

Last year I was tired for our entire stay in Philadelphia. Some time after returning home we find out why I was so tired.

This year I was my usual self, chock full of energy. Although it was hot hot hot out there, I was just pumped and bursting with energy. I felt like I could run around the entire convention center a few times. I WANTED to march out on the side of the building in the full sun. I challenged a few people to a race, but no one took me up on it.

Thank you Panera Bread for the free iced water!!!

About 2pm our leaders decided to call it a day. I was proud of them to make a decision that was based out of concern for everyone’s welfare. They could have said “we planned to march until 3pm, and we have just one hour to go!” But that wasn’t the case. People were hot, tired, weary, and worn out – and they cared about that.

This is without a doubt a group of very caring, thoughtful, and loving people. I am honored to be able to stand with any one of them, to walk hand in hand or side by side (especially when some folks were very very sweaty). It truly is a beautiful experience, and I wouldn’t trade it for any exotic vacation anywhere else in the world!

dropping the attempt to 'catch up'

There are several things I’ve wanted to blog about over the course of the past 7 months.

I was trying to keep my blog posts mostly in a chronological order. However, that became a very difficult thing to do.

I fell behind on posting everything about the ARD (Adoptee Rights Demonstration). While at the ARD in July, I remember being puzzled as to why I was just so completely exhausted, and wondered where did the energy go? Normally when I’m away and have no pressure, I’m up before the sun. I'm packed full of energy that can’t be exhausted in one short day. That didn’t happen at the ARD, and it baffled me!

When I got home, I found that then stress and pressure from my job did not subside at all while I was away. It drained any bit of energy I would’ve had left. My intentions of posting after the ARD just didn't happen like I wanted.

Once I found out I was pregnant, I could not post about any of those experiences at the time, because I was hiding the ‘news’ from my employer for as long as I could. They had just laid off 30 people in my department, and I was afraid that telling them I’d need time off in the spring of 2010 would push me to the top of the list of people they’d cut next. I never did get a chance to tell them the "good news."

When September came and I lost the baby I felt like I couldn’t post ‘current’ things because I didn’t post ‘earlier’ things yet. Then came the period of time that I just couldn't write. There were no words to write.

So beginning today, I’m going to let go of chronological order for now. It’ll be up to you, the reader, to notice dates and put those pieces where they rightfully belong. I’m not going to try to ‘catch up’. I’m going to just write what I’m feeling and experiencing now, with a lot of reflection in some posts.

Today, as the wind blew and the temperature stayed below freezing, I walked outside to get the mail. Although the sun was shining, it was not warm in the least. But I could not resist the urge to walk through the gardens, it was calling to me and drew me in with no resistance. And I noticed signs of life.

There are little tufts of crocus sticking out of the ground! One area even has a few daffodil tips poking out.

That's very significant to me. Just like the spring bulbs, I too was emotionally cold and asleep - for a long time. But I've begun to thaw, and now is the time for me to wake back up, sharpen my pencils, and write!

Cheerios World Back Ordered

I don’t know what you expect when you visit this little blog.
I tell people that [here] I am an open book.
You may have noticed and maybe even wondered why there have been very few posts from Cheerio since the ARD in July.

It was because I did not have the physical strength. I noticed the lack of energy seemed to start at the ARD (Adoptee Rights Demonstration at Philadelphia in July). Several weeks leading up to the ARD I was under extreme pressure at work, but in the past when I went away on vacation and was able to relax, I would be up before the sun, and just bursting with energy. 

This did not happen at the ARD. I was confused and frustrated with myself at the ARD, because I was tired and slept a lot, much more than I usually would.

My Hubby chalked it up to it just being emotional for me, and therefore; he concluded, I was just emotionally drained. When I got back from the ARD, the pressure at work had not subsided. I was so extremely tense. I don’t think I had ever felt this unbelievably tense at any of my other jobs before.  

One night while I was driving home, I had a thought… What if I’m pregnant? What if I’m pregnant and the stress hurts my baby? I would hate them forever if anything happens to my baby from all this stress.

This nagging thought kept coming back until I finally decided I would take a HPT (home pregnancy test) just to be sure. If I was pregnant, I would have to find a way to not let the pressure and stress get to me.

There are a few more posts about the ARD event, including the ARD March itself, which I plan to write. However, before I continue with those posts, I am going to post some of the journal notes I wrote after the ARD and taking that HPT. 

I was not able to post them at the actual times - so I will note the actual journal date.

Cheerios World Back Ordered

Hi Mom

It was Monday. We had a wonderful time earlier at breakfast and meeting a whole bunch more folks who arrived for the event. It was around 11 am that a small nucleus was beginning to form in the hotel lobby.

We were all excited and there was a lot of chatter as we waited for H of the UK to join us. Although she was not downstairs yet, we were all talking about her and what was about to happen, Our Crafty Art Teacher made a sign for her the night before. If she didn’t want to use it, that was ok. But it was there ready for her if she did.

H arrived and we took a head count. Most people could fit in the van that Our Transporter drove down from Long Island. The rest piled into a car with the Itty Bitty Loudmouth and her hubby. I got to ride in the van with H. On the drive to the airport we listened to her tell parts of her story. It was very sad and angering to hear.

Now I’m not new to the adoption arena as far as what society believes and what apparent choose to think. In general society as a whole does want to hear anything “bad” or “negative” about adoption, especially NOT from an adoptee! Right away they want t o label him or her as “bitter” or “ungrateful” or both. Then they completely dismiss their experiences, thoughts, and feelings so they can just continue believing their untrue ‘feel good’ ideas.

But the sad part of H’s story is not about her childhood. She was raised in a good home and loves her afamily very much. But the truth is that her aparents and her life with them was not the VERY BEGINNING of her story (which is true of every adoptee). Her story started with a young woman I’ll simply call Mom.

Mom was a young single woman still living with her parents when she was expecting. It really was not all that uncommon, as some may think -- not even from back in that era. People just think it rarely happened because society tried to hide these young moms. These girls were whisked way from their home, families, and towns. They were hidden away in secrecy at maternity homes.

These ‘bad girls’ were punished by how they were treated throughout their pregnancies, and at the time of labor and delivery. They were mistreated and their babies were often forcefully taken away so they could be sold to a childless couple. Some stories have been recorded in the book “The Girls who Went Away.” http://www.thegirlswhowentaway.com/

Mom somehow was spared the punishment of being sent away, and the time came for her child to be born. After giving birth, she wanted to hold her child, but her child was not given for her to be held. Instead she was given platitudes and told her baby died while she was giving birth.

Mom did not believe it, she did not believe them. Yet they insisted her child was gone, had died, and sent her home with empty arms and a broken grieving heart that was now filled with anger, betrayal, and distrust.

After several years had passed, and Mom still refused to accept or believe that her first baby died, her mother’s conscience and the guilt got the best of her. She confessed that she had conspired with the delivering doctor to pretend the child died. It was all so the child could be adopted out.

I had not heard this part of H’s story before. There we were sitting in this van all listening to H retell what happened to her original Mom. She went on to tell us that after much searching she finally found Mom just a year ago. She dialed the phone number she was given. Mom answered the phone and H said to her, “Hi. You have not seen me in 38 years.” Right away Mom knew this was her stolen baby.

In just a few sentences Mom comments to H, “It sounds like you have a bit of an English accent?” She was stunned to learn that her baby was not just stolen away, but stolen away and carried across the ocean to another continent, to another country that her baby would call ‘home.’

Since that first phone call, they’ve called and e-mailed each other often. Mom even got to talk to her little grandchildren on the phone and got to know them too.

What a range of emotions we all had as H of the UK talked. We finally got to the airport, this little caravan to pick up Mom. It still chokes me up to remember and think how special this was, as that this would be their very first face to face meeting. Phone calls and e-mail during the past year was good, but not at all the same. Mom lived in FL and H obviously lived across the pond in the United Kingdom., and here at this Adoptee Rights Demonstration would be their chance to finally meet face to face.

We found a parking space, and this little caravan hurried on our way following this very quiet and soft spoken woman, H of the UK.

We found the area where her flight would be arriving. There we stood this cluster of guys and gals, with a buzz of energy and nervousness in the air. With the exception of myself and just a few others, this group had one thing in common, they are adopted. Back and forth they would ask each other that ‘forbidden’ question … “Have you reunited with your original Mom?”

My heart was heavy to hear some of their answers. What courage and strength for Jimm to be here among us. He found original siblings, but the search for his original mother proved to be too late, she had already passed on a few years earlier.

It broke my heart to know how much he wanted to see her, to talk to her, just to know her. Yet even her last breaths on this earth, she did not know this. Two hearts, two lives that were destined to be together were instead separated; separated forever, never to connect again. What an unnecessary tragedy.

The ridiculous laws of ‘secrecy’ (sealed birth records) cost him (and her) that chance and hope to reconnect. Michigan needs to change these outdated and discriminatory laws! Change them ‘for the sake of the children’ – for surely these children will grow up. When they become adults they should have their original birth certificates hassle free!

Next to Jimm stood Our Transporter. He is adopted, but he is no longer a child. He is a husband and a father of two lovely little girls. We originally met on Facebook. As he stood there, I remembered some of the messages he sent me about his story.

Although NY is like Michigan in regards to sealed OBC, he had the info on his original mother to search for her; and search he did. But his search took him to one dead end after another. How much disappointment can one heart endure and still have the strength to continue on. While the dead ends were discouraging, none of them had the weight of that final blow – the original birth records were falsified. He will never know his original Mother’s name. Worse yet, he will never be able to find her.

I can’t even begin to imagine what an isolated feeling to be in a sea of people, yet not be biologically connected to any of them. No original grand parents, no original aunts or uncles, no original siblings. Yet, here he stood with H of the UK as we all awaited Mom’s arrival.

Many thoughts and feelings swirled around inside of me. I wondered what was going on in H’s heart and mind as she stood there at the gate (well, as close as a non-passenger can get)? She was holding her ‘Hi Mom’ sign that could’ve been read from a very far distance.

As the passengers exited, we did not know what flight they were disembarking. So with each flight that came in we had no way to know if Mom was among them. For some crazy reason Mom would not send H a recent picture of herself, so we all just scanned the faces of the passing crowds.

Had it been me standing there with the sign, I would have been embarrassed at the strange looks and comments of those who passed by. But H of the UK stood there, she seemed a bit nervous, but she was unwavering as she held her sign waiting expectantly for Mom.

I don’t know how I missed it, short attention span got the best of me again I guess. I looked over and there they were!!! The ‘Hi Mom’ sign was on the floor and Mom and H of the UK were in one of those gigantic hugs where you could just see the love, joy, and happiness radiating! They were unashamed to embrace in a public place.

Finally! Mother and Daughter together again!!!

The rest of us stood there crying – yes, even the guys had leaky eyes as H and Mom hugged and cried and hugged again.

Slowly we started to make our way to the luggage pickup area.

Then I saw it!

I’d read and heard about it from many other reunion stories, and I got to witness it for myself. H and Mom walked side by side chatting and holding hands as they went.

They held hands the entire journey from the airport terminal, to and from the luggage pickup area, and across the parking lot to the van.

I hope to never lose that picture I have in my head.

(Romany contributed the photos I’ve shared with you. Thanks Romany!!!)

What a beautiful and emotional experience for H to share with all of us. While we waited for Mom to arrive, thoughts and hope for reunion with my own lost son danced through my mind. These thoughts were soon followed by a keen awareness of missing him and desperate longing; longing to look into his eyes, to hear the sound of his voice, to feel the warmth of a loving hug.

What an amazing time it was! I tried to imgine all the thoughts and emotions that H of the UK might have been feeling. And yet, and yet as we were riding back to the hotel, she reached out her hand and rested it on my shoulder. A gentle squeeze was her simple gesture of compassion and understanding. Mom noticed this and looks at H questioningly.

H leaned over to Mom and let her know that Cheerio is an Original Mom who lost her son.

Mom looked at me and simply said “Never give up Hope.”

links to other Cheerio ARD related posts:

Sign Making Party and Encounter with Itty Bitty Loudmouth (Day#2, second of 3 posts)

Searching for Identity and Ridiculous Red Tape (Day#2, first of 3 posts)

Day #1 Meeting on-line Friends

Funky light patterns on the Benjamin Franklin Bridge

Sign Making Party and Encounter with the Itty Bitty Loudmouth

Adoptee Rights Demonstration - Day #2

Sign Making Party and Encounter with the Itty Bitty Loudmouth

(Day #2 part ii of iii)

**Sign Making Party

By now I hope you’ve seen some of the signs that were used for the Adoptee Rights Demonstration, both for the March to and displayed during that protest in front of the Convention Center where the Legislators National Conference was being.

If not, you can find some great shots in the youtube ARD Documentary just below this post.

The hotel allowed us to use the room that is the breakfast area. It had several tables that were pushed together to create our workspace. Jeff and his wife brought lots of arts and craft items. Others brought poster boards, sticks, markers, a staple gun, duct tape, and glitter.

There was not enough room to lay out all the signs in that one work area, so many folks overflowed out to the lounge area, to work on their signs. I wonder what the other hotel customers were thinking? Wondering what all these adults were doing acting like a bunch of kids?

I had an important job, and took it very seriously. To avoid splintermania the next day, I covered the wood handles with duct tape. It was a great task that I could do without thinking, which allowed me to talk with whoever came over to help me out. (Although my hubby mocked me for making the tape line up just exactly. NOT OCD!)

The final volunteer that helped me get to the end of the stick pile was Right Hand Man. He was with his friend, the Camera Guy, who spent most of his time peering through a camera while he interviewed and filmed. It was so very encouraging to me that he was such a big supporter and encourager for his friend, to the point of attending an Adoptee Rights Demonstration when he is not adopted himself. He described that it was very apparent that being adopted very much affected his friend, Camera Guy.

I don’t think this Right Hand Man realized how rare that is in a friend for an adoptee. As I listen to adoptees from all over the US, Canada, Australia, and even Lebanon, one of their struggles is that people who are not adopted just don’t “get it.” Their friends brush off the struggles with comments like “be grateful for what you have,” “everyone struggles with family problems,” or “don’t let it get to you,” or “you’re better off with your afamily”. And the frustration is not just with friends, but I've heard the same frustration about significant others, who do not understand and do not offer support through the adoption related struggles.

I think this is one of the things that cause adoptees to shove most of their feelings deep inside, because when they try to express what they are really feeling, even to their best friends – they are either criticized, or their feelings are dismissed. They feel isolated with these feelings that no one seems to understand, and often don’t want to hear about. So, it was very encouraging to know that the Camera Guy has a true friend who “gets it” and encourages him instead of telling him just to put on the “happy face” mask.

As we were splinter-proofing the sticks, it also gave me a chance to sit and watch. When I’m around people that I don’t know, I tend to clam up and hide, especially in a big crowd. This task allowed me to sit on the sidelines and just observe others. It really was amazing to see all these people from all over the place joking and talking, and asking someone to pass the glitter.

It was also amazing to see all the hugging. People I’ve only ever chatted with on-line would give me a big hug. It really was the coolest thing. It was just a warm environment, with lots and lots of energy going on. There was also an air of concern for each other. When one person would share painful parts of their story, others would stop and empathize and express sadness.

In the room there were obviously lots and lots and lots of adoptees. Some who are searching, some who have searched – but it was too late, some are in reunion. It was very interesting to hear the stories of interaction with their original family. Pro-adoption myth believers have this dreamy idea that “someday” the adopted person will meet their original family, and that suddenly they are instantly ‘fulfilled’ and they go on with their merry lives as if that meeting was the most natural thing in the world.

Put a Screeching Halt to that Cherry Cart! It just doesn’t work that way! There are years and years of unresolved issues on both parts, and it takes a lot of work to make a re-union a good one. And frankly, sometimes it takes more work than some people are willing or able to endure. It broke my heart to hear how badly some of them were treated by their original families, siblings are suspicious of them or their intentions, first moms withholding the name of the natural father, flat out rejection by people who are supposed to love them the most, their original mother & their original father.

Some talked about their afamily. Somehow society thinks that people who adopt a child are saints. But then again, that is the same society that believes that adoption is a win/win situation, therefore the aparents must be wonderful and special people for rescuing a child. (pardon me while I pull up the barf bucket…)

While many aparents are good, there are still whole boatloads of them who are not. I talked with at least two adoptees who were in very abusive homes growing up, and a few others who don’t even talk with their afamily anymore. Many faced rejection and retaliation from their afamily for even searching.

I sat in disbelief with my mouth dropped open while Our Transporter told me that his aparents would not acknowledge the birth of his first child. They would not visit his new baby, and they would not even congratulate him or his wife. Why? Because he was able to do something they could not do – have their own biological children. His aparents apparently never dealt with their own issue of infertility, and took it out on what could have been their own grandchildren. Pro-adoption people won’t tell you these kind of stories.

While I’m on a little sidebar conversation, let me bring up a point that I hear over and over from adoptees, but no one else (especially pro-adoption folks) talks about it -- Extended AFamily. Sure the aparents may be very good parents, and they may love their adopted child with all their heart, but that does not mean that everyone else in the family will.

The new Aunts and Uncles don’t consider the adopted child as a “real” neice or nephew. I’ve heard countless stories of how “Grandma made this special gift for every grandchild- except for me.” Adopted children are not included in the “survived by #children or #grandchildren” portion of obituaries. The rest of the family still treats the adopted child differently. It is no fault of the adoptee, and yet they are not stupid, they see it. The see it, and more dramatically, they feel it growing up.

I could have let those paragraphs out, but then it wouldn’t be real. This was an adoptee event, by and for adoptees. These are stories of what they experience. It makes me incredibly sad that I was pro-adoption for so many years and promoted something that puts a child in such a tenuous situation throughout their entire life.

Back to the sign making event… There were other first moms there. I’m a bit embarrassed to admit that I did not reach out and talk to them all. In fact, if I didn’t have a hint of who someone was (like if I would know them from on-line) I kind of just sat there working merrily along.

There was a t-shirt there with a slogan that I decided to use for my sign.

“Original Identity is a Basic Human Right.” I’ve also decided that instead of natural, birth, first, that I think “original” is the best description possible, and maybe you noticed that in this post. I am my son’s Original Mom, my dad, my father-in-law, my nephews, they are my son’s Original Family. I’ve just decided that I like it. So far, I haven’t had to explain what I mean when I use the term.

I also liked the statement that Original Identity is a right, and I believe it is. It is THEIR identity that was changed, and if they choose to search back to where it originally started, I believe they should have the right to do that.

This is a perfect segue to the story I alluded to in my prior post, my story about our “Itty Bitty Loudmouth,” and she knows who she is. Anyone who was in the room that night making signs knows who I’m talking about. She was definitely “itty bitty” in size, but NOT in volume!

**Encounter with the Itty Bitty Loudmouth

The sign making party had dispersed. Well, actually I think they chased us out of the room (heehee). Most folks had gone to their rooms. I had the armful of sticks while the Itty Bitty Loudmouth and her hubby had the remaining box and a few signs.

When the elevator door opened for us to enter, Itty Bitty Loudmouth decided to go check the room one more time to make sure it was presentable. Her husband took some supplies up to their room. I walked to check out the room with her, and the trash was already taken out, the tables were in order, the chairs were all put back in place, the countertops had been wiped down.

Itty Bitty Loudmouth went over to close the other set of doors, which was near one side of the bar. I just stood in the room waiting for her return.

Even though I was in another room, I could hear she was engaged in a conversation with a few fellows at the bar. It started out with one of them asking about a slogans on one of the signs. This of course led to a discussion of what the heck were the signs for anyway? Which of course is a subject the Itty Bitty Loudmouth is very passionate about.

The conversation slipped into a confrontation when Itty Bitty Loudmouth referred to adoptees as b@stards. The fellow sitting right beside her took offense to that statement. He challenged her that he has two adopted children, and they are not b@stards.

And of course we know that most AParents are delusional about the true needs of an adopted child. Many AParents feel (they not admit it outloud, but they do feel) some sense of ownership of a child they adopt. Many AParents are unaware of their own insecurity and fear that the adoptee might ever want to know - or God forbid! have a relationship with their original family.

Now keep in mind, Itty Bitty Loudmouth is an adult, she is a wife and mother, and an employee. She is small in stature, but she is not a teenager or a little kid anymore.

I admit that as I listened to the confrontation I could not make myself leave the room to ‘defend’ her as she stood toe to toe with this ADad. I thought about it, but when he described the typical idea of an original mom, I did not want to listen to the abuse that he certainly would turn toward me – if he knew I was an original mom too. I did not have the backbone to face the sneers or judgmental looks, and certainly the mocking as they would jump to all kind of conclusions of “what kind of woman” I am.

Their conclusions that would most likely be wrong. Many people think original moms do not WANT their child. This is just so not true. Many people think original moms are incapable of parenting. Many people think original moms are defective – druggies or sluts or child abusers. I did not have the will to fight their imaginations. They already have their opinions formed and their mind made up. I am not willing to put myself out there for them to attack so they can just walk away feeling better than me.

So there I stood, nearly paralyzed at first. I eventually made my way out of the room and stood behind Itty Bitty Loudmouth. In all honesty though, Itty Bitty Loudmouth did not need any help at all. She was standing her ground, and was quite literally in this guys face – pointing her finger at him as she vehemently spoke.

You must pay special attention to this part of their conversation. I know this post is getting long, but I think this is what is in the minds of many AParents.

ADad, “my kids don’t need their birthmother. We took them and have cared for them as they grow up.” Basically the “we’re their parents now.”

Itty Bitty Loudmouth “But when those kids become adults, they should have a right to their own original birth certificate.”

ADad, “No.”

Itty Bitty Loudmouth, “I am an adult adoptee, and I should have the exact same right as you and every other American, I should have the right to my original birth certificate.”

ADad, “No, that’s not your family any more. And you should not have a right to that certificate.”

Itty Bitty Loudmouth, “Why is that? I am an adult, as you are. You can request your birth certificate and get it without any questions. I want that same right.”

ADad, “No, the Aparents are your parents now, just like I am the father to my adopted daughters.”

At this point the bartender made her way over to this corner of the bar, and was leaning on the bar, making sure no punches were thrown.

Itty Bitty Loudmouth, “What about my rights?”

ADad, “What about them?”

Itty Bitty Mouth, “Every one else can get their birth certificate, and I can’t.”

ADad, “You should not have access to your birth certificate.”

Itty Bitty Loudmouth, “So, are you saying your rights are more important than my rights?”

I wish I could have captured the look on this man’s face.

She posed the question straight up.

You could see that for a few seconds he was pondering her question, he didn’t just blurt out an answer. His response was deliberate. “Yes,” he said, “my rights are more important.”

And this is where the bartender put her hands between the two of them and suggested that they agree to disagree.

And so that is what we did the very next day, was we marched through the streets of Philadelphia, exposing this blatant discrimination. One adult’s rights should not trump another’s. Especially in this case where there is no valid reason for it.

It is based out of fear. “OMGosh, if they know who their original parents are, they might not love us anymore….and they HAVE to love me, after all, I’m the one who paid for them, and took care of them while they grew up, and bought their first pony and their last car.” The basis is fear and a sense of ownership.

I am still dumbfounded (not really surprised) that this man flat out said

“Yes, my rights are more important.”

Links to other Cheerio ARD related posts:

Searching for Identity and Ridiculous Red Tape (Day#2, first of 3 posts)

Day #1 Meeting on-line Friends

Funky light patterns on the Benjamine Frankliln Bridge