Sight of the Unsightly Redbud Tree

The week of my original due date was very hard emotionally.

Just two days before she was due, I took yet another hike in the mountain. This time, though I was scouting for redbuds. It is a beautiful native tree here in PA, and early April was when they started to blossom. One of the characteristics of redbuds is that they have big heart shaped leaves.

That day and each time I walk through these woods, I am just amazed at how much work my husband has put into restoring the land. When we first bought this property, it was an unsightly sea of green overgrowth. It was not a good or healthy green at all.

In the sunny areas mile-a-minute (devils tail) had taken over and literally climbed up and grown overtop all the vegetation. It climbed the wildflowers, shrubs, bramble bushes, and was even growing in the trees. When walking, our footsteps were precariously balanced on vegetation, not touching solid ground.

The woods were in just as bad shape. The trees were choked and being strangled by white clematis, wild grapevines and worse -- the foreign invasive Oriental Bittersweet vine. You could not look through the woods and see trees or shrubs. Instead everything was entwined with some kind of vine and/or vines.

Here is a brief synopsis on the growth habit and damage caused from Oriental Bittersweet vine. True to a vine’s nature, the vines grow encircling the branches as they spiral their way up. Over time the vines themselves get thicker while the tree is also trying to grow. The vines constrict the branches and reduce nourishment to the leaves. This constriction deforms the branches and stunts growth. The greatest danger; however, is how quickly the vine races for the tops of the tree and there in the sunlight it becomes very dense with leaves and fills the treetop with it’s ever encircling vine. The bittersweet vine reduces the amount of sunlight to the leaves, thereby weakening the tree. As the bittersweet vine thrives, the weakened tree gets to the point where in several years it can no longer bear the weight of the vine with being weakened and top heavy, the tree breaks and collapses.

Oriental Bittersweet vine is not a native plant. It is foreign plant introduced here. It was not part of the original landscape thereby disturbing the natural balance. It is invasive because it crowds out and kills native vegetation, which in turn affects wildlife – flower, trees, birds, butterflies, and more.

So as I journey on my hike, there is an amazing feeling to be walking on a path, and be able to see through the woods, down to our house. This was not possible three years ago. I was strolling up a path my husband cleared just last spring. I was walking slowly, enjoying nature and breathing in the fresh air. I saw purple ahead of me and anticipated seeing a beautiful stately redbud in full bloom.

As I got closer, I was confused by what I saw. I was trying to make sense of it as I noticed the redbud branches and blossoms were low to the ground, which is not normal for this type of tree. It looked like an older dead tree must have fallen over on top of the redbud.

The confusion changed to puzzlement as I got closer. Is this broken tree I see a redbud? Those blossoms near the ground, are they evidence of survival?
Can this ugly brokenness I see at the top be the same tree as the purple buds branching from it?

I leave the path and walk down to investigate.

Sure enough, the brokenness and blossoms were from the same tree.

I walked around the base of the tree and noticed remainders of Oriental Bittersweet vines hanging from it. This must have been one of the trees my husband has freed from the strangling vine. When he found her, she was weighed down, crushed, and broken. If he had not intervened, surely this tree would have simply collapsed and died, killed by an invasive foreign vine (Oriental Bittersweet) that was never part of the original design.

As I’m standing there in amazement at this tree, it was as if God spoke to me. It was as if He was pointing out that right now in my life I’ve been feeling broken. Not only from the lost of our unborn little flower bud, but also and even more so from the adoption pain of the son I have not seen for over 15 years. And it was as if He was letting me know that even though I am broken in ways, that it does not have to utterly destroy me. Instead there can be some beauty from my life, despite the brokenness. As I was sharing with a friend this bit of encouragement from my hike, she says to me, “But how do you know you are broken? How do you know you’re not what God intended you to be?” No wise person would look at this tree and say it's meeting its full potential. This tree is obviously broken. It is bent over and will NEVER be in the straight upright position that a lovely redbud tree is designed to be.

No matter how many years pass, the gaping holes in its trunk will never grow closed. No amount of time will erase the scars of brokenness and years of damage done to this redbud tree. This is what adoption has done to me. Just as the Oriental Bittersweet vine was a foreign plant invading our hillside, so adoption is a foreign blight in our world. It was never God’s design to break women’s hearts, lives, and motherhood. It was never His design to bring about crushing brokenness to families.

Even though some claim it to be “ordained” by Him or they claim superior knowledge that adoption is “His Will,” they are misguided. Just as it is with the Oriental Bittersweet vine, it is so with adoption. The people who want to keep it alive are the ones who benefit from it. Crafters view Oriental Bittersweet as a wonderful thing of beauty because they can use the bright orange berries. But they totally ignore the damage the vine does.

So it is with adoption. The ones who view it as a wonderful and beautiful thing are not the ones living under the crushing weight, the strangling pain of losing a child, or losing an original parent.

Another irony I see in this story is that the bright orange berries are more highly revered than the natural heart shaped leaves of the redbud. Could it be mere coincidence that this vine was choking out the ‘heart’ of the forest?

I have been strangled, weakened, and choked from pain caused by adoption. I have collapsed at the weight of it upon my soul. My heart is broken and pieces of it have splintered beyond repair. I will never be what I was originally designed to be. I will never stand in the forest straight, tall, and strong.

When people look at my life, they will not see beauty BECAUSE OF adoption. No, adoption has caused the grotesquesness. But when peole look at my life, if they see beauty, it will be IN SPITE OF THE permanent damage caused by adoption loss.

Beauty Despite Brokenness

How Long did you grieve for your child?

"How long did you grieve for your child? " In another forum, a question was posted by a woman whose child is under 6 months old. Her question is this “How long did you grieve for your child?” I’m going to confess, I did not read all the replies. There are three pages of replies. But I did read her short paragraph describing her question. Her question broke my heart. Reading her words broke my heart. Basically she described that she recently lost her child for adoption, and cries every day. She missis her daughter and wants her back. She's wondering how long others grieved, and I think she's hoping for someone to tell her that it will get better. One thing that breaks my heart is … How? How in the world can we be in this information age, and people are still so uneducated about adoption as to think that a woman ever stops grieving for her lost child? How? I don’t know if her adoption was handled by an agency or an adoption lawyer, but HOW in the world are We the Women and Men Of the United States allowing adoptions to continue on the same path of being unethical and lacking moral standards? Agencies make billions, but they are not regulated. Does this repulse anyone else? Why is no one accountable? Here is a woman who is asking about grieving. She’s lost her child less than 6 months ago. I’d be willing to be a paycheck that her counseling (but not biased at all, I’m sure) went something like “It will hurt for awhile, but will fade away.” Are you happy with that kind of disgusting misrepresentation? If you are, then you must also believe that she is not a human being as you are. Therefore she is not deserving of truth. She is merely an incubator for a more deserving couple, or someone who has more money. She doesn't have feelings, or emotions. Surely, the child is better off and safer with someone else. And I guess you’re also among the group that would say “awww, honey, but you made the right choice….” When are we going to stop labeling it as a right or wrong choice, and start to realize the key is asking - IS IT NECESSARY? If it is NOT absolutely necessary, then child should be with his/her mother. Why should a mother be psychologically damaged for the rest of their life if it is NOT absolutely necessary? Juno is not real. Women do not walk away into the sunset all happy and giddy. If you believe that, then you need to get off the adoption merry-go round, you’re dizzy from it. Look at reality! These are women and young women who mourn and grieve for their child until the gravel of the grave falls on their closed caskets. If you’d like to follow up on that forum and see the replies, here is the link. I initially wanted to talk about my own feelings. But a more personal post will follow later. For now, I’d rather just leave here. Leave it with this thought ... Does that sound like a win/win situation to you? To grieve until the dirt clods drop and echo on the casket lid?

walls

I feel the walls going up. I am tired. So much has gone on with my family the past few weeks relating to my two nephews, I am emotionally drained. The reunion with the oldest nephew, while it was oh, so good, it is also very triggering for me. I feel like I need to hide it - so it doesn't take away from the joy from the rest of my family. I’ve been reading and thinking about my son so much lately, and why? What good does it do; this ‘thinking of him?’ Chances of us ever having a meaningful relationship are so slim. Even if we do, there is nothing I can do about the past – not a thing. I feel helpless. I feel wounded so deep that nothing will ever be able to heal it. When I wrestled with the agency last year, I think they did some arm twisting behind the scenes to get a ‘new agreement’. Last year I was promised pictures "every April until he turns 18." April came and went this year and I tried to not get my hopes up. This morning as part of my early morning stroll, I walked down to the mailbox. As I thumbed through the mail on my way back to the house, I was actually surprised to find the envelope of pictures. I sat it aside, not really wanting to “go there” before work. I worked out in the garden a little before coming back in to get ready for work. As I was about to walk out the door, I paused and looked at the envelope. I decided to open it. Maybe some of the hostility from last year wore off. It was not just 4 pictures in an envelope, like last year. This year it was actually a few pages printed out with little 2” pictures and descriptions, and his school picture for the year. Most of the pictures were from their 2 week vacation traveling some of the western states. It's a shame the pictures were so tiny, and many pictureswere creased where the pages were folded. The last page had a nice size picture of him and his brother, without a fold across his face. He looks ... he looks so much like ... well, like us (me and his natural dad - my husband). I read over it quickly and put it back into the envelope – trying to not feel, trying to force myself to be indifferent. I mechanically get into my car and drive to work. I’m trying to just listen to the music and block out any other thoughts or feelings. The tears come anyway. The thoughts seep in. My heart gets heavier. I gave him away. Look at his family. Maybe he is better off without me?

walls going up

3 parties of Successful Scams and Fraud

Scams and the elderly- sound familiar? If not, put this post on hold until you go back and read the one from last week by that title. Otherwise some things in this post may not make complete sense.

Successful Scams and Fraud takes three (3) parties.

In the prior post, we already talked about the first party and how con artists become successful. It is basically by deceiving someone, usually at a vulnerable time of their life. That 'someone' becomes the second party involved - the victim.

When I was a young teen I was living in a trailer that my Mom rented. It was on a farm, and the farm house was turned into a rental property with a few apartments.

One night near the end of March, when I was 14, I was hanging out with two other gals who also lived there. They were both a year older than me. I don't remember all the details of how the idea came up, but we all piled into Jeff's pickup for a drive. Jeff was a farm hand and maintenance guy for the rental properties. He was quite a few years older.

We rode into town and Jeff (name has been changed) stopped for some beer while we were out. Instead of driving back to the farm right away, we rode around the country side.

While just riding around, Jeff shared his beer. I don't remember if it was cans or bottles, nor do I recall if it was lite or regular beer. I do remember not being interested even though the other two girls had a beer or two or three, I didn't really pay attention to how much was consumed. Eventually we got back to the farm.

Did I mention that I lived with my Mom? I don't remember how it all came out, but I ended up telling her what happened. You bet ya - she called the police. The police talked to all us girls, and probably talked to Jeff as well. And that's the end of that story.

Well, they probably had to write up some kind of report when they got back to the station. Then that was the end of that story.

Jeff? I don't think anything happened to Jeff. No warning, no fine, no arrest. Nada.

Why?

-because the victims were not willing to testify against him.

I'm telling you - my Mom was hot under the collar! She was NOT happy that nothing was going to be done about it. Not happy in the least. When she gets angry her one eye squints partially closed. She definitely had the angry squinty eye thing going on.

Let me clarify one little detail. When I said that none of the victims were willing to testify, I was not referring to myself. The policeman explained that since I did not drink any of the beer; although I was there, although I witnessed the whole ordeal; although I was offered beer, I was not considered a "victim." Only the other two girls were a victim, I was merely a witness.

What does this story about giving alcohol to minors have to do with adoption?

Voice.

My voice didn't really amount to much in that situation when it came to confronting or making accusations. If nothing happened, or nothing was lost, then there is nothing to say. But with a victim, something DID happen, and the victim has power in using their voice.

Even among victims, every one is different though.

Some face a period of denial. Some are too ashamed to talk about what happened. Some don’t get the help that they really need. Some try to just move on and try to pretend nothing happened. Some victims blame themselves beyond what is reasonable and are riddled with excessive guilt. Some never see justice. Some are angry for a long time afterward. Some stay crippled by the experience. Some use the experience as a catapult to spearhead a cause to fight for.

Successful scams involve Three (3) parties:

The con-artist.

The victim.

You & Society as a whole.

Society is either protecting the victims, or it is exploiting them. Read on if you're wondering, how society is exploiting the victims?

One way is by not giving weight to their voice. Instead of listening to the victims, they are ignored, shushed, or silenced. We must ask ourselves: If we're not listening to the victim, then who ARE we listening to? Are we listening to each other, which have not 'lost' anything? Are we listening to the con artists?

Listening, as with our preconceived ideas of what we want to hear is not right. We, society as a whole, needs to be sure we are carefully listening to the victim and what they have to say.

But it cannot stop there. After listening to the victim and finding out that, yes - indeed they were deceived and taken advantage of. If society does not protect the victim and prevent the spread of the scam/fraud - then that is the other way they are exploiting the victims. It is not enough to just listen; effort must be put into reducing and stopping the incidents of fraud.

Prior post I described how adoption professionals have all the behaviors of other undesirable con artists. They take advantage of women at a vulnerable time of their life, and they manipulate these women to get what they want (her baby).

Society needs to start recognizing her, not as a woman who made a choice, but as a victim who was conned into making that choice. The next step is for society as a whole to protect her from the fraudulent activities and tactics of the adoption professionals.

And just as there are warnings posted all over the place "caution" or "beware" about scams to prevent others from becoming a victim, there should be the same type of cautions regarding adoption and adoption professionals. Also there should be warnings that expose the 'tactics' being used.

So, as long as society is not protecting and preventing, they are standing in the same corner with the con artists and scammers. They are exploiting more victims.

Victim of adoption fraud. Similar to Scams and the elderly.

cheerio sticks her neck out

Time and time and time again, I've described myself as "in the closet" first mom. I hide behind my computer screen. And it is here where I feel safe enough to open some of the windows to my soul. Very few people in real life know that I have a child. So far my son has been my only child. Only people who are close to me know about him, and only people I feel I can trust. There have been a few I told about him, and then wish I had kept my mouth shut! Like the lady who insists on spewing the despicable adoption rhetoric that caused me to lose my child. Lady - I was NOT brave!!! I was freaking terrified out of my mind. I was afraid. Someone who doesn't even try because they are afraid? That does not make them 'brave'. NO! It makes them a yellow bellied sap sucker (aka: chicken)! She's known me for what? a year or so, and all of a sudden she thinks she knows what I was thinking and feeling 15 years ago? Who does she think she is? God knows, and I can guarantee He'd be on my side correcting this woman - "No," He'd say in His deep booming voice, "No, Lady. Cheerio was not brave, she was a coward. I gave her a beautiful perfect little boy, and she gave him away. There is no bravery in that." But so far God hasn't tapped this lady to silence her. Instead she tells me (literally) "I don't care what you think," [now, this is AFTER I've told her that her words are hurtful] "I still think you're brave." Do people say this stupid stuff to a woman living with domestic voilence? Do they say you were brave to marry him, even though he is abusive? Do they tell her that she did the right thing? I sure hope not! Ya know, she's so bent on sticking to her own opinion that I doubt she'd even listen to God Himself, even if He were to speak in an audible voice. Alas, the gibberish and hurtful words from those who are not affected by adoption. That is partly why I hide here. It doesn't take long to learn who is going to be sensitive, and who isn't. Then I can pick and choose who to interact with. But then I heard a knock on that closet door. An adoptee invited me to the Adoptee Rights Demonstration in Philly this July. It seems the closet door has cracked open a bit. Cheerio is still hiding inside, but she is at least peering through the crack. As the date for the demonstration draws closer, I am nervous. But I want to do this to fight for the rights of adoptees. I especially want to stand and be counted - to oppose the lie from the adoption professionals that first moms want to stay a secret. THEY want us to stay a secret. THEY want us to live in shame and stay hidden. I can't let them continue winning, spewing their lies unchallenged. I have so many adoptee friends on my Cheerio facebook account, it's very cool! But then there's the facebook account with my 'real' name, which is totally separate. Nothing to do with adoption is listed or linked there. Until - - until this week. At the Easter Egg Hunt last week a lady said she sent me a friend invite. She said she saw me listed as a friend to someone else. It surprised me. I didn't have him as my friend. I had not been on that account for weeks. Curiosity got the best of me, and so early this week, I signed on. I found 17 friend invites - mostly from people at my church! I have not accepted any of them as friends yet. First I wanted to update my profile page. I've added a link to the video below "Are you my mommy?" And I've added a link to the Adoptee Rights Demonstration blog. This weekend I'll accept all those other friend invites. And from day #1, they will see a glimpse of (ironically enough) the 'real' me - and they will know about Adoptee Rights. Cheerio stuck her neck out. We'll see if her head gets lopped off for it? closet hiding shame guilt fear

her face

People are different - many different shapes, sizes, and personalitie. Just like the variety of spring flowers. Some people are loners, others like to surround themselves with others. Some people like to keep at it until they have the task complete, while others get bored doing just one thing and need variety. Some people love babies and children, others don't. People who know me, know that I don't interract with babies at all - and with young children only minimally. When they're at about age 7, I'm more comfortable with children. By the time they're pre-teens, I enjoy being around them. I love the energy teenagers give off. They're a blast to be around and to watch. Poor Uncle Ian, he's become the subject of a few posts lately. Well, this isn't really about him, but about one of his two lovely daughters. I don't get involved with any of the 'kid's programs' at church. I'd rather get to know them on an individual basis when they're older. I didn't give it much thought at how old Uncle Ian's daughters are now. Last I remembered they were 5 & 3 yrs old. But when I sat down on Sunday morning, we happened to sit next to them. Thatt's when I realized the oldest girl is that magic pre-teen age! I don't know when she grew up like that! I haven't really talked with her before, and I'm certain she wouldn't even know my name. There are several chairs between me and the girls. The girl gets up to bring the basket to me, and I looked into her face. Yup! She's almost a teenager. You can see it in her face and her complexion. She's a beautiful girl! She's thin, but taller than I would have envisioned for Chinese heritage. But when I looked into her face, my heart fell. All I could think about for the rest of the service, and throughout the day was ... "Her mother will never have the chance to look into this girl's face. Her mother will never know how beautiful her own daughter' is becoming. This beatiful girl will never be able to look into her mother's face and see where she gets her beautiful eyes? her nose? or her lips or her brow?." I felt as though I had stolen this glimpse from a woman in another land far far away. How could I see her daughter, when she could not? And she probably never will. It just wasn't right. I did not deserve to see this mother's wish, when I looked into this girl's face.

her pretty face

An Abnormal Flower

How does an Abnormal Flower live in a Normal World? 

 Spring is here and the flowers are reaching for the sunlight. I take a stroll outside and sit in my garden. My hands are wrapped around my cup of hot tea, my fingers are entwined. I sit. I sit silently, and I listen. My eyes are closed and my face is warmed by the kisses of distant sunrays. 

Ever so faintly I hear the earth moving, and mulch is being pushed around. I can hear the giddy little sounds of the bulbs sending their leaves up. Their leaves reach up up up, up from the darkenss of the cold earth. Reaching skyward toward the sunlight and it’s warmth. 

 First it is the snowdrops that break through. Their white bell shaped flowers act like a trumpet to the rest of the sleeping earth and her bulbs beneath. The brave snowdrops break through the mulch, and rise above the snow proclaiming SPRING is on it’s way! Despite the fact that it is still cold and the land seems frozen. 

 Within a day a cheery yellow face of the winter aconite breaks through the mulch and is joyously proclaiming that winter is over and it’s time for spring. Then it’s almost as if a murmur surrounds me and I can hear the little chanting sounds … “Spring, did they say it’s spring?” “Alright! I can stretch now, way up to the sky!” “I can’t WAIT to break out of this pile of dirt and rocks and see all my spring flower friends again!” Yippie! It’s Spring!” 

 The crocuses have the cutest little chorus. Their grass-like sprigs of leaves poke through the ground with a breath of fresh air simply and announce, “SsssspRING!” It’s as if they were just released from a shaken soda bottle. But it doesn’t end there. Tiny flowers of yellow, white, and purple rise from the center of their grassy display. As each bloom reaches it’s maximum height, it rests for a few moments before gracefully allowing each flower petal to fall open with the sound of “ahhhh aaaa, spring.” It’s silent and almost wistful. 

 The daffodils, the hyacinths, the irises, they are all awakening from their slumber. All around me I hear their joy and their energy and their enthusiasm. I just sit there absorbing it all. 

 Then behind me I hear the leaves rustle and another voice joins the rest. Except this time the chorus becomes silent as I see one tiny tip of a tulip pushing aside the leaves. She is breaking through the crusted mulch and she lifts her green leaves skyward. “Ahhhh. Spring,” she says. “Finally, it’s spring.” I recognized her right away. That is where the beautiful apeldoorn tulips were planted. What a lovely sight they will be later in the season! The majestic apeldoorn have graceful long sturdy stems and elegant red flower petals. Each petal was artistically designed, with just a touch of yellow/orange, as if airbrushed in place. 

I pull myself out of my daydreaming, and realize that the awkward silence is still hanging in the air. I’m not really sure why, so I just sit still waiting for clues. 

After a few moments the cheery little yellow winter aconite makes the broad announcement, “Well. Will you look who it is! If it isn’t little Miss AppelLESS Apeldoorn Tulip Girl. Welcome back, you little faker.” 

 “You mean that?” Questions the little tulip of the aconite? “You’re really welcoming me back?” 

“No! Of course, Not! I’m not welcoming you! Can’t you tell sarcasm when it is oozing out of every pore of my stem and leaves?! No, you’re not really welcome here! You’re not one of us. You’re … you’re … You’re ABNORMAL! And you jut don’t belong!” The tirade of the aconite continues “Why did you come back? We didn’t want you last year, or the year before. What makes you think this year will be any different? You ruin the beauty of our garden and our grandiose spring display.” 

I could see the little tulip wilt in her hole. Her leaves were no longer reaching above her. They were curled around her – as she tried to hide from sight. She was no longer breathing in the fresh spring air. The other spring flowers mocked her, whispered about her, and turned away from her altogether. 

This was not at all what I was expecting in my enchanted spring garden. I lift myself from the earth and walk slowly to the house. Even though I look at the yellow daffodils and purple lungwort, I find that I keep looking over at her. My mind is reeling and searching to find what makes her “abnormal?” I go to the potting shed and grab a pair of gloves, a trowel, and a small clay pot. I return to this lonely little tulip, being very careful with every step to not disturb other flowers that have not broken through. 

I kneel down and gently dig around this tulip, and gently talk to her. “There there, little girl. Everything is going to be alright. Don’t you worry about a thing.” As I get ready to move her from the ground into the clay pot, my suspicions were confirmed. Instead of a healthy full bulb, this one was misshapen. Apparently at one time she was damaged when trying to move her. 

Several memories flashed through my mind seemingly all at once. 

When I had my son, I was like that tulip. I brought into this world another life. It was beautiful and precious. He was perfect, except for one thing - I was his mother. I was afraid that if I were to parent, I would ruin him. That his future would be marred and he would be shackled and unable to reach his full potential with a mother like me. Yes, this is what adoption professionals WANT the expectant moms to think, that "Your baby deserves MORE than YOU." They were so WRONG, and I made the worst mistake of my life believing it. 

I felt just like this little tulip I held in my hand. At one time someone sliced through the fleshy bulb. Now a chunk is missing and she will never flower agian. When they separated me and my child, they sliced through the flesh of my soul -- through that very sacred mother/child bond. Without him, a fleshy part of me is missing, I have never been the same.

 

I take the little tulip to the house, not really sure what I’m going to do with her now. What do you do with a tulip that will never flower? She had flowered once, but that part of her has been cut away, and she will never lift another face of petals to the sky again. Do I just toss her in the compost bin behind the shed? What dignity would she have left then? 

 No. I think, instead, I’ll keep her here on the porch with me. 

After all, I know what it’s like being an abnormal flower trying to live in a normal world.

abnormal

flower

sick, not limited to the physical sense

Cheerio has been sick. 

 I don't like being sick, especially if it lingers. 

 I don't want to complain, as it is just a temporary sickness, not a life-threatening disease. But it's still "sick" when it feels like it is taking all your strength to walk 3 feet. 

That's been Cheerio's world. 

 At work one day one of the New Yorker fellows I work with says, "Hey, Cheerio - what's up with you? You've been moping around for days now." Thanks, Man! Gotta love Italians and their no-nonsense approach? Eh? 

 Today I'm feeling better and I'm getting stronger every day. I'm starting to walk kind of normal. I'm moving a little slow, and a tiny bit unsteady. I'm not making any quick turns or dashing about, that's certain. When this first hit me, I was in bed - slept all day, kind of sick for two days. One night as I'm lying there trying desperately to fall asleep, I realized just how sick I really am. Here I've been barely able to wobble downstairs for a drink for a few days. And my first sign of recovery was the over-activeness of my brain. 

"Sick" I am, to finally have strength to even just think and the thoughts pummeling my mind are ... about the 'A' word.

 GAAA! I can't even escape it when I'm sick!

I'm laying there thinking about my blog, and what I'd like to write about. I'm thinking about the topics I've read on an Adoptee Forum. 

I'm thinking about how I can make a difference in the people around me from day to day - trying to break through their predictable 'adoption is a loving choice', and 'it's a win-win situation' blinders. 

I'm thinking about how much adoption hurts and yet the general population has no clue how much. I'm thinking how hard it is to combat that. I'm thinking about my on-line friends who are in reunion stages - and they're struggling. 

 I'm thinking about how hard my own reunion will be. His amom and adad won't communicate with me at all now, should I expect THAT to change when he turns 18? HA! I'm not counting on it!

 

My mind is churning as I'm predicting my son will face what I hear from my adoptee friends ... that they're made to feel Guilty for thinking about their natural family ... that they're labeled as disloyal for searching ... that even when aparents say they're for searching and re-union - they don't really mean it. 

GAAA! I am coughing up hairballs like you wouldn't believe and my chest muscles hurt, yet my mind is already thinking, no obsessing about Adoption! 

Sometimes I just want to be a normal person. 

I wish someone could unscrew a plate in the back of my head, and just yank the "adoption" fuse out. Please. Please let me go to bed thinking about my seedlings, my sewing crafts, plans for my flower beds, and the heavenly smell of mulch. Please - enough of Adoption already!!!

Just make it stop! Make it go away! Change the mp3 playlist!

now that's one sick puppy

young hearts..

young hearts ..

two people in love? it couldnt have been. young hearts, young minds, nobody seen. Her belly grows, Everything is okay. He cheats, she cries, then runs away. She's all alone now, with nowhere to turn. She's way to young, theres so much to learn. Her belly grows more each day. second thoughts, is there another way? Baby born, so tiny and new. she whispers quietly "i love you" She looks into her baby's eyes. The love inside her suddenly dies. She kisses her baby one last time. She knew she had to say goodbye. Her tears fell as she walked away. Hoping to see her baby again someday. The baby cries, all alone. As she waits for someone to take her home. People come, but who are they? strangers just came and took her away. The baby grows, but somethings wrong. The little girl does not belong. She knows there's something not quite right. She dreams of her face every night. Her parents tell her, "your special to us" "and there's no need to make a fuss." She goes through life broken and alone. Still waiting for someone to take her home. She knew there was someone that had a peice of her heart. This person stole it when they got ripped apart. She needed to find her. She tried really hard. But it broke her down and left her scarred. So many nights, she would lay there and cry. The life was drained right from her eyes. She got lucky one day, and thats when she knew. her searching was over, her wish had came true. She found her way back to where she belonged. With both of her parents, she got to go home. But thats when she realized it won't be the same. She missed out on everything, but theres no one to blame. She tries to be grateful, and is most the time. But these were my parents, they were soposed to be mine. Its not fair and will never be. Im just happy i can love you, and you can love me.

February 24, 2009, 11:04:19 pm

copied with permission from author:

BrokenButterfly

"He's a Starfish too"

I don't care if you're a girl, or if you're a guy - Everyone needs a good friend.

I'm not talking about people who know a whole lot about you, or even the people you might party with. I'm talking about a real, genuine, true blue friend. Someone who also knows what is going on inside of you. Someone who knows what makes you tick. Someone who knows what your 'hot' buttons are. Someone who knows how rotten you can really be, and yet they're still your friend anyway.

Everyone needs a friend like that. If you can find more than one or two, hang onto them with all your might. They're more than their weight in gold.

I have an on-line friend who is like that. By now she is not surprised to hear about my color coded to do list on my white board at work. She is not surprised to hear that everything I've even sent to my son is methodically organized and preserved to perfection. She is not surprised to hear about the most recent practical joke I've pulled over on someone.

We talk on the phone every three weeks or so. And I love every time we talk. I love that she listens to my boring stories. I love to hear her laugh. I especially love hearing the commotion in the background at her house (all the time!).

When she calls me and is upset, I hate to know she is hurting, but I am glad that I can be there for her when she needs a listening ear or reassuring hand on her shoulder.

And so, I'm telling my friend Cassi about the episode of Uncle Ian and the Adoption Sales Pitch.

I was actually talking to her on the same night it happened. I'm being my animated usual self, with raising and lowering my voice to add emphasis and interest. I was still feeling kind of confident for taking a stand. I'm vocalizing to her what my next step is. I emphatically state that "I am now on a quest to find the perfect phrase to silence Uncle Ian for good! I need that phrase which would drive the silver spike through his heart to ensure the dark, evil, and vampirish subject of adoption will NEVER come up again. I need to put him in his place!"

You know what happened next?

I bet not, because it sure caught me by surprise.

Instead of being egged on by my friend, she says something that stops me in my tracks.

If you have a good friend, like I described. I'm sure you would agree that you know that you're in for trouble when they say, "Can I be brutally honest with you?"

I stopped. I literally stopped. I think my arm was midair, and my pacing of the floor ceased. I thought to myself, "Gee, this is bad. What now?"

After pondering her question for what seemed like an hour, but surely it was only a few seconds, I said to her, "Yes, please be honest with me."

And quietly (well, as "quiet" as is possible for Cassi) she says to me, "But, Cheerio, you know ... he's a starfish too."

Instantly turmoil broke lose inside of me. I felt myself protesting, "But...." "NO!" "no, no, no, no! I can't". My offensive stance disappeared, and instantly all the walls to protect myself went up.

She goes on to describe what I did NOT want or even Care to hear, but I needed anyway.

She asked, "Who? Who is going to prepare him for what his two beautiful Chinese daughters will face in the years to come? Who will help him and his wife realize that these two girls deserve the right to grieve instead of being forced to feel grateful? Who will help this family through the greatly misunderstood turmoil ahead?

"How will they ever come to know that there is another side of adoption? -the side that involves loss, instead of gain? -the side that is sadness instead of smiles? -the side that hurts deeper than words would ever reach? - the side that is brokenness instead of butterflies and rainbows?

"How will

they

EVER

know?"

At this point, I'm just standing there listening. My tirade is over, and my spear is on the ground and out of reach. There will be no fight, no target on whom I can unleash all my anger and rage of past hurts.

No, no fight this time.

She's right.

I was standing in front of the coal stove. My right hand was holding the cell phone up to my ear. My left hand would clench, unclench, clench and unclench again. ((With long nails a person needs to do this exercise carefully; otherwise there can be little spots of blood seeping through where the skin was punctured just a little too hard.))

Although she recognizes that I am not ready to 'go public', with my 'adoption story'. Well, quite the contrary, it is not a 'story' it is the 'truth' that I've refused to reveal.

At the same time this man's two beautiful daughters deserve for their father to KNOW the 'other' side of adoption.

Unexpectedly I come up with a different plan.

Instead of "putting him in his place" with a verbal attack,

I will offer him a different perspective.

I haven't hammered out all the details just yet. But here is the crux of the plan.

In some way, shape, or form, Uncle Ian will be invited to join others who could "talk about adoption for hours". Hopefully he will have an "open mind" and join us on July 21st, 2009

at the Adoptee Rights Demonstration in Philadelphia, PA.

(( http://adopteerightsphilly.blogspot.com/ ))

"...he's a starfish too"

Uncle Ian's Sales Pitch

We had an appointment the other week. We decided to see a financial advisor. This guy was recommended by several folks. One of them was a former landscape client of mine. She mentioned that he helped them outline a plan so that they'd be able to reach their goals in the future. We all went to the same church. Although I didn't know him on a personal level, I would easily recognize him and his family. The hubby and I don't have a lot of definite goals for the future / retirement. I'm not a big traveler so that's not on the horizon. But I think we both would like to make sure we're able to stay in our home with a modest lifestyle similar to where it is now, and so we're seeking advice/guidance. We both meet after work that night with our pile of paperwork. We were a little chatty as we head into the office building. The office is on the 7th floor and as we’re riding the elevator I'm reminiscing to my husband about the company I had interviewed with in this building more than 10 years ago. The elevator doors open and we're greeted by Uncle Ian. (No, that is not actually his name. I was trying to think of something clever or a nifty acronym to use in this post. Then I remembered Uncle Ian from the Alvin & The Chipmunks movie, and so "Uncle Ian" it is.) We followed to the conference room, put our stack of papers on the table and we all sat down. Uncle Ian asked us to tell him a little about ourselves. General stuff, such as where we work, what we do at our jobs, where we live, how long we’ve been together. Then of course the conversation leads to his asking about our current financial situation and what our financial future plans involve. Most of our plans right now involve our home. It's a beat up old house - neglected for many years before we bought it almost 3 summers ago. There are several structural issues that need attention. Some of you may know how expensive structural repairs can be. I mentioned the other financial possibility that would affect our future plans would be a child. I mentioned that we are going to try for another year and see what happens. I didn't make a big deal of it and moved along to the next topic. Or so I thought we moved on. Uncle Ian gets this certain glowing look to his face as he leans back and pulls his hands together as he twists his pen and says, "Well, after a year, if nothing happens we can always talk about adoption if you want to." Now, I was not totally caught off guard by this statement. I do know Uncle Ian has two daughters who are both adopted. Even if I had not heard the story he has shared about 'bringing them home’, I would still know they are adopted. It is very apparent. After all Uncle Ian and his wife are white. Very very white. They do not a trace of Asian heritage whatsoever. Since I was not entirely blindsided (although a bit surprised - I admit), before he could continue to his second sentence, I was able to abruptly respond with "No, we don't want to talk about it." I was somewhat amazed at myself at how calmly I responded without lunging across the table to shake the poor guy. Inside I was simmering a bit, but I understand this fellow did not know MY story, and I tried to just let it roll off. And so we move on. I was grateful “that” was over. I was glad it didn’t get ugly either. When we were wrapping things up for the evening, Uncle Ian hands us a business card. He repeats his plan to gather some info for us and run some numbers. He brought up confidentiality - that although we all go to the same church his wife does not know who he meets with. During the final notes as he's about to send us out the door he says, ”And keep an open mind about adoption. It is a subject that I am very passionate about and I could talk with people about adoption for hours.” GAAA!!! The first time I could let it go, but now it's a SALES PITCH! A stinking Adoption Sales Pitch!?!? Un be lievable! I just looked him in the eye and said "I have very strong opinions about it already. I don't want to discuss it." Although I could not actually see the expression on my face, I think I looked calm and collected on the outside, but now I really WAS wanting to lunge at him and start banging his head on the table. I'm not sure if he could read what was really going on in my mind as I smiled, waved and said "good night".

As we are 'safely' outside and walking back to the truck, I was feeling strong by being firm, by standing my ground, and by not being reduced to tears or a sniveling little ball of snot. And so I ask my hubby (who indeed is a treasure and an unbelievable source of strength for me in the really dark times), “So, do you think my answers were pointed enough to keep Uncle Ian from ever bringing up the subject again?” I wish he were wrong, but my shoulders slumped a little from the reality and my heart fell when my husband gave his honest answer, “No. I don’t think that was enough.” Uncle Ian is determined and I guess I need to be better prepared for Uncle Ian’s Next Adoption Sales Pitch.

Adoption Sales Pitch

nutty journal hugger

As I was driving home,

I was contemplating my son's next Christmas gift. And, yes. I realize that it is only February.

Christmas 2008 I sent him a journal with the intent of sending a new one each year. It was hard for me to pick out that first one. I ended up buying a blue spiral bound journal with robots on the cover. I thought robots would be cool since I've sent him “assemble yourself” Robot Kits the past few years for his birthday.

I keep thinking about the journal for sale on the Adoptee Rights Demonstration cafepress store. http://www.cafepress.com/AdopteeRightsPA.349212525 With my unexplainable paper fetish, on my first visit to their store, I of course scoured the entire on-line store highly doubtful they would even sell a journal. I quietly squealed with delight when I saw they actually had one! Yay! I guess there is room for nutty journal hugging people like me. Although I'd like one of the journals for myself, I really want to send one to my son next Christmas. So, as I'm driving along, in my mind, I'm going over the arguments -- back and forth --trying to evaluate all the possible risks of sending him such a journal.

Now, here is a (will be by then) 15 year old boy, who is the younger of two adopted sons. I have sent letters and gifts to him from the beginning. I got updates and pictures from the aparents at first. When he started school is also when the communication became a one-way street. The aparents "weren't interested" in sending anything to me anymore.

Back when they did send me pictures, they always included pictures of him opening the gift I sent, or of him reading the card/letter. I hold to this thought and believe he still gets the gifts and letters. I might be wrong, but I'm going to just keep hoping, and keep on sending.

I only mention this 'one way street' scenario, because I don't hear from my son - EVER. Once when he was a few years old, his amom sent me a letter where he wrote his name at the bottom of the page. That is it. Period. End of chapter. Nothing else in the box. What are you still standing in line for?! there is NO MORE!

Which all boils down to the reality that I have no idea where he is (or his older abrother, or his aparents are) regarding the 'A' word. [The 'A' word, meaning adoption.]

I want to send him this journal because I want him to think about adoptees’ rights - about his rights. Maybe at 15 he isn't too concerned about his rights. But by next Christmas if his brother isn't 18 yet, that 18th birthday won't be too far away.

Maybe this tiny little journal might spark something in his mind to start thinking about his rights, his needs, and his feelings too. Things that he may have been told he "should not" think or feel, but if he were honest, he'd admit that it’s still there, even if it's hidden very deep. As I am reading more of what adoptees share, it totally dumbfounds me that non adopted people simply don't care about the unique 'burden' that an adoptee carries.

I read over and over again that adoptees are basically told what NOT to feel or think, and and how they SHOULD feel or think instead. And, well, I guess I'm hoping that maybe a journal to my son, highlighting Adoptee Rights ... well, that maybe it would cause him to consider that I don't want to do that. I'm hoping that by showing that I'm already thinking about adoptee rights, my focus would be on him and his "needs".

If I sent him this journal, maybe he would Google Adoptee Rights Demonstration, and there he might find other adoptees that he could connect with.

What a guessing game it is too of how his aparents would feel about a journal with ARD logo on it? How do they feel about adoption records being open? about them being sealed? If they haven't thought about it - it wouldn't hurt for them to give it some thought.

I'm driving and pondering it all.

Then it dawns on me ... he'll be 15 years old next Christmas.

I have only 3 more Christmases! After that, he’ll BE 18!?!?

I've survived this long - I will survive the following years also.

I still hesitate. It's kind of risky - his aparents don't communicate with me at all. Hmmmm, "as an old wise man once said, 'It's better to ask forgiveness than permission.'" [Do you recognize what movie this quote is from? I’m working on a post about this movie & hope to have it up on my blog soon.]

nutty journal hugger

My child is breathing ...

My only child, a son, was lot to adoption when he was three days old. People who learn of my son often try to comfort me by saying "at least he is alive". I know they mean it to assure me, but the words are hollow. There is no way they could ever know how hard it is to have a child - alive, and out there somewhere, but not be able to see, hear, or touch him.

Their words are meant to comfort, but they mock me and they sting. These are the thougths such words bring ...
 

My child is breathing, but I cannot hear it
My child is breathing, but I cannot see rhythmic movement of his chest
My child is laughing, but I cannot hear the sound
My child is laughing, but I cannot see the smile
My child is sleeping, but I cannot hear the sweet silence
My child is sleeping, but I cannot see the angelic look on his face
My child is learning, but I cannot hear what subject is his favorite
My child is learning, but I cannot see teacher comments or his grades
My child is eating, but I cannot hear the crunching and munching
My child is eating, but I cannot see how much food he crams in with just one bite
My child is singing, but I cannot hear the music
My child is singing, but I cannot see if his foot's tapping to the beat
My child is running, but I cannot hear the cheers of the crowd
My child is running, but I cannot see the strength and determination in each stride
My child is building, but I cannot hear if he talks to himself while he does
My child is building, but I cannot see if he likes the finished robot in the end
My child is writing, but I cannot hear if he shares his written words aloud
My child is writing, but I cannot see the stories through a pen he has told
My child is growing, but I cannot hear the change in his voice
My child is growing, but I cannot see each year for myself just how much
My child is maturing, but I cannot hear if there is a rage with in
My child is maturing, but I cannot see - just how much harm I may have done to him.
My child is ‘out there.' He is somewhere, and yes he is alive.
But this being separated; oh, how every day my heart just cries!

my child is breathing

The Starfish Story

Cheerio has a whirlwind of topics and posts I want to write. I think I would need a week off work to get it all out. That is not really an option for me right now. So I'll start by copying something I posted in a private First Moms group May of last year.
Don't skip this post ... one of my future posts, currently one of the nine at the drawing board, will relate to this story. So here it is ahead of time.
 Don't forget it, and be sure to look next week for a new post referencing this one.
 This just feels like the ideal time to just say to all my followers and people who visit my blog often - Thank You! Some of you comment, some of you don't. I'm grateful to everyone. Thank you for the feedback and encouragement. To my quiet non-commenting friends Thank You for the support you show when simply stopping by. We really do need each other. I do believe that together we can and do 'make a difference.' 
I was on the phone with a friend. She is a woman who lost her first son to adoption, as I did. I could tell she was discouraged in this battle fighting against the myths of adoption. And so I asked her a question. It’s a question I ask myself often. I’ll ask you the same question.

“Can you make a difference? Really? Can you make a difference?”

Her response had much of the same doubt I fight off myself. And then I remember this story.
I call it The Starfish Story. You may have read it somewhere, and I apologize for not getting all the details right. My pastor shared this story as part of a sermon a long time ago.

Many of us in this group are in some way speaking out to fight the wrongs of adoption. Sometimes you may get weary or feel like you’re not being heard. And so, I’d like to share this story with you.
One morning following a storm, a little boy is walking along the beach, ahead of his family.
Before him, as far as he could possible see was a devastating site.
Thousands and thousands of starfishes had been beached by the storm. 
Some did not make it, but as the little boy is walking along, he could see that many are still alive and struggling to survive.

It’s such a beautiful morning, the sky is blue with puffy white clouds floating high, seagulls swooping and squawking, and the morning sunrays feel warm.

It is a beautiful day; yes, a perfect day for playing at the beach, making sandcastles and running along the edge of the water. But the little boy notices none of that. His heart seems to be breaking as he realizes the fate of these starfishes strewn all over the shore.

What could he do?
He couldn’t just walk on by and let them all out here to die in the rising sun!
There were so many starfishes. He must do something! .

He bends down, gently picking one up.
 As he is holding it in his tiny hand, it’s as if instincts take over. And like a boy with a stone, he tosses the starfish as far as he possibly could out into the ocean, into the water where the starfish will be able to recover and survive.

It dawns on him that this is the answer. Now he is on a mission. He is moving as quickly as possible, picking up a starfish and tossing it into the water. He picks up another starfish and tosses it into the water. This goes on for quite some time, the little boy working his way down the beach rescuing starfishes.

The little boy did not realize he was being watched by an older gentleman sitting on the beach.
At his age, he’s witnessed this scene many times, of so many starfishes that were stranded and he could not even begin to count them. It’s just what happens when there is a storm like that. Nature will take its course and they will die.

Engrossed in his task, the boy does not even notice the older man sitting in his chair watching.
The boy was somewhat startled when the man called out to him. “Hey, son! What are you doing there?” Then the man lifts himself from the chair and approaches the boy.

Tossing the  starfish into the sea the boy proudly declares, "I'm rescuing starfish!"




The man leans his head back and lets out a mocking laugh.

He is genuinely amused. “Son,” the man says. “So you are rescuing starfish, huh?”
The man chuckles again. Then he reaches out his hand and motions a broad sweeping gesture the length of the beach. “Son, there are thousands upon thousands upon thousands of starfish out here, and there is only one of you. There is just no way that you can rescue all these starfish. I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this son, but they’re going to die. You should just go have fun with your family instead. What you are doing is insignificant, and it doesn’t matter.”

 Undaunted, the boy bends over and picks up another starfish.
Still following the pattern he had all morning, he tosses it back into the ocean.
Without even turning to look at the man, he says

 “It matters to this one.”

it matters

to

this one

"There was a scam...looking for children to sell."

from Georgia state - Can you Help Her??? children separated & sold black market adoption ring http://www.walb.com/Global/story.asp?s=9789662 Woman needs your help finding brothers (Feb 4, 2009)COFFEE COUNTY, GA (WALB) - Deborah Latham thumbs through 28 files full of information about her biological family members. Information she began collecting after her mother died. "After all of the family that you know is gone, you start to think I have no more family, but I do somewhere. And I wonder if they've been looking for me." And they were. A week before Christmas she got a call about her sister and later connected with her brother Gary. "My original name Doris Hill was the name he was looking for," said Latham. That was also when she learned about the illegal adoptions. "There was a scam going around looking for children to sell. The judge was involved and a nurse. Deborah's mother was targeted because she was a poor single mother with nine children. "They took us to the state patrol station to the back room, and the parents were there and they took us right than," said Latham. "Who got what money or who started it I don't know?" The original birth records of all five children involved were destroyed, and their names changed to hide the illegal exchanges. This is also making it harder for Deborah to find her biological brothers Earl and Elroy."We are still trying to find them, but we don't know what names to look for." >>for rest of story, see article below. I will leave it posted for some time & I hope there will be updates to this family's story<<

But in the story did you catch the following words:

"illegal adoption"

"scam"

"children to sell"

"targeted"

"judge was involved"

"money"

If you didn't catch all those words, I hope you'll take just a moment and go back to the story and read it again. My dear friends . . . adoption is not 'new'. The core reason for adoption is not 'new'. Buying babies is not 'new'. Separating siblings so infertile couples can have a family is not 'new'. Targeting poor families to sell their children is not 'new'.

When will you stop believing how wonderful adoption is - and start seeing it for what it really is?

"scam" "children to sell" "targeted" "money"

STOP the baby selling !

updated to include following links for additional reading...

Georgia Tann - read an ecxcerpt from the book: http://www.babythief.com/Excerpt.html

Or read more about her here ... http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Georgia_Tann

stop the baby selling

pg # 13

I am not planning a long post. Instead I foresee short post spurts happening as I am reading thru the book "The Primal Wound." I don't have it all planned out. So I don't know if you should expect commentary or opinion and thoughts? or to not expect them? Tonight (tehcnically this morning) I am stopping a few pages shy of the end of chapter #1. I am stopping at page #13. For now I will merely quote Nancy Vierra from today's stopping point.

" ... what if

the most abusive thing

which can happen to a child

is

that he is taken from his mother?"

abusive ... taken ... his mother

Ca cha cha cha ching$$$$$$

Today I saw a bald eagle. My husband has seen one twice since we've moved to our 'new' home. Today as I was driving along the river, I was getting ready to get on the interstate when I saw it. It was probably the same reaciton as people who just saw a celebrity. My jaw dropped open as I'm trying to focus on driving...I'm just in awe... stupified and frozen. If I had not had that celebrety shock hit me, I might have gotten a shot of it w/ the camera on my cell phone. It was not very big, so it must've been a young bird. I was so excited about it, I got on-line to write about it ... and then I found this blog. The irony, I was so pumped about seeing the Bald Eagle. The national bird, symbol of freedom! strength! dignity! and honor! But after reading this, my visual was instead of a young eagle with it's wings bound and lyaing helplessly on the table. A table in an auction house. The onlookers eyes were filled with greed. I sense the fear in the once - majestic bird. It has been reduced to becoming someone's prize - at the right price... Here is the link for you to read. http://apathoftheheart.blogspot.com/2009/01/january-23-2009-adoption-situations.html Or you can scroll down to read it as I read it today ... I've pasted it below for your convenience... >I've interjected my comments are in gray< "Friday, January 23, 2009 January 23, 2009 Adoption Situations I hope this post finds everyone doing well! Thank you for all the comments and suggestions of more adoption books. We're headed to Borders this weekend to expand our library:) The following are our most current situations available to our clients: 1.) *NEW* Caucasian/African-American Boy, 2/10/09, UT, $23K + potential medical expenses, *BM used marijuana during pregnancy and wants open adoption with poss visits 2.) *NEW* African-America/Hispanic Girl, 2/28/09, Maryland, $20K, Alcohol exp during pregnancy 3.) *NEW* Caucasian/Hispanic Unk Gender, $35K, May 4.) Caucasian Unk Gender, $37K, June 5.) Caucasian/African-American Boy, $30-35K, Apr 6.) Caucasian/African-American Boy, $30-35K, June 7.) African-American Boy, 2/23/09, $20K, GA 8.) African-American Girl, 3/10/09, $20K, AL 9.) African-American Boy, 3/13/09, $20K, GA 10.) African-American Boy, 3/25/09, $24, UT 11.) African-American Girl, 4/11/09, $24K, UT Contact me at karalee@christianadoptionconsultants.com if you're interested or to find out more about CAC. Have a great weekend, everyone! :) " **second blog post** "Tuesday, January 6, 2009 Updated Situation List Things sure are moving quickly! :) Here is a list of our updated situations: 1.) *NEW* Caucasian Girl, 1/23/09, BM on methadone 2.) *NEW* African-American/Hispanic Girl, 2/28/09, Maryland, $20K (Alcohol Exp) 3.) *NEW* African-American Boy, 2/6/09, GA, $20K 4.) *NEW* African-American Boy, 2/17/09,SC, $21K 5.) *NEW* African-American Boy, 2/17/09, UT, agency fee $16K 6.) *NEW* African-American Girl, 3/1/09, TX, $20K 7.) *NEW* African-American Boy, 3/6/09, LA, $20K 8.) *NEW* African-American Girl, 3/1/09, AL, $20K 9.) African-American/Caucasian Boy, Due March 10.) African-American/Caucasian Unk Gender, Due April 11.) African-American Boy, Due Feb 12.) African-American Boy, Due Feb 13.) Caucasian Boy, Due Feb 14.) Caucasian/Hispanic Unk Gender, Due Feb 15.) Caucasian Unk Gender, Due May 16.) 3/4 Hispanic 1/4 Caucasian Girl, Due Feb17.) African-American Boy, $16K, 2/22/09Contact me at karalee@christianadoptionconsultants.com with any questions or if you're interested! Posted by Karalee at 5:15 PM 0 comments **end of blog post** >about this second post, wow she literally says "things are moving fast". What things? Babies?< >Below I'm pasting comments to her 1/23/09 post, which were there when I read it today, because I imagine the author of this blog will delete them when she reads them. Whereas instead she should be falling on her knees repenting... karalee, do God a favor and stop using His name to justify the greed and marketing for such a repulsive industry, ok?< jctippinward said... First let me start off with saying this one of the most disgusting things I have ever laid my eye upon, and Ive seen a lot in my 21 years of living, but this putting a price on a child and listing him/her on a blog as if you were selling a car is just wrong. A white Caucasian male will run you about 35k wile an African-American male child will run you about 23k. What is this, Cars made by a certain company therefore will be better? Are you serious? These a children people, the most innocent thing in the world has now become a Market for investments and profit. Look at the way you list him here as if they were a product, like they came out of a plastic box. Do you not have children of your own? Let me ask you this would put a price tag on them and sell em on the open market? No? Then why do you find it to be right to sell another person(s) child over blogspot? As im sure by now some have you have stopped reading and wrote me off as an educated buffoon who has no idea what im talking about and to those you closed minded ignorant pricks all I can say to you is piss off. I am a product of the hole open adoption craze. It was like a new fashion craze amongst you everyone is doing it so it must be right. Well its not right and I will tell you why. When my Amom stopped sending my Mother(Casi) news and pictures on how I was doing, my Mother went to the adoption agency and complained. They told her there is nothing she can do about it, that I was now under the control of my Amom(Terri). My adoption was an open one and just like that it became close. I will only say this the amount of pain that caused my mother still ripples threw time today. What it did to me has changed who I am forever. I spent most of youth jumping around from step dad to step dad watching the first one physically and mentally abuse Terri and I. The second one never loved me he told me that himself. There was no father figure besides Terri's Father. He passed away when I was 15 the only sort of guidance for me had no passed on to a better place, I was lost. I didn't know who I was I new that I wasn't blood with the people I lived with and deep down inside I knew I didn't belong where I was. As a teen I was far from an angel I did a lot of things I look back onto now and hold in deep regret of my actions. When I was 16 Terri left me with her Mother who at the time was unable to walk. I had complete freedom and I took full advantage of it. I found my self stealing her car, credit cards, an cash and partying every night. By the time I was 17 I was kicked out of Terri's mother's house and left to move back in with Terri. This was the hardest time of my life.Terri was a drunk and a mean one at that. It caused many fights and many problems for us. I dont want to cover much on this time. I was doing nothing but living to die. I knew deep down I hated everything and everyone and the only thing that made that go away was a abusive drug habit that still scars my heart today. Both of my shoulders are destroyed from self inflected wounds they will never look the same. These are the things that haunt me. Now I tell you that story to tell you this one. The adoption agency told my mom she would not be able to be a good mother for me. Those lieing bastards. I have 2 little brother and one little sister. Both of my Parents are still together and married doing what they can to make sure we there children have everything we need to succeed in life. They told her this would not happen. Now ive read all over books about feeling angry towards (and I hate using this term) the Natural parents and if your one of those right now reading this I want to say this from me to you. Forgive and open your heart, remember when your young and scared about the world? Well they were two and they where tricked by a money thirsty industry. If they would have known the true cost it would never have happened and it would have been done there. So again forgive your heart will feel better as will theres. So don't sit there and tell me someone cant raise a child because they've smoked a little pot. Or because they are young and still young adults themselves. 99% of parents out there love their children with all the heart to an extent that words not describe. I say 99% because there is that 1% who kills their children because they are legitimately insain and God told em to do it. Love is a powerful thing and it will make you do crazy things, such as forget your old life style and began raising a child. And so now here you sit reading over adds on the Internet for children. All of them have different packages and millage on them and you feel good about your self? It should not matter the race or gender of age of the child why? Because they are Children all the same innocence wrapped up in a bundle of joy. So I hope this made some of you think a little bit about the truth behind this industry, its not always everything they tell you it will be. January 23, 2009 3:49 PM >Thank you jctippinward for sharing of yourself, your soul, for helping others see without the tainted rosecolored glasses< "worried said... How do you sleep at night knowing that you sell human flesh in the name of Christianity? You are not a Christian. You are being used by the devil to do evil work. January 24, 2009 9:27 AM" >You hit the 'nail' on the head, Worried! Selling babies one of the most UNChristian things around...even if 'everyone's doing it!'< >Ok, Ok. I TRIED to not comment, but since it would probably be deleted, here's what I said ...< Cheerio! said... "Thank you karalee - thank you for removing the fog for people to clearly see how even so-called "christian" ((NOT!!)) agencies sell babies. Price Tags visible to all. I hope that for the sake of the child you adopted already, you would seek out books like Primal Wound by Nancy Vierrier to see inside an adoptee's heart. Adoption affects children. A child being separated from their Natural Parent is a great loss and wound to them. It is a well hidden fact & people don't who are not adopted do NOT want to hear it. Why wound these children in the name of God? why not instead stand beside the expectant woman and TEACH and SUPPORT her to be the Mother God desires her to be? January 24, 2009 10:01 AM"