(Good?) Advice

I've mentioned before that, for one reason or other, people in the adoption community will occasionally come to me for advice. Bad idea, people. I once advised a co-worker to take naps under her desk. I am full to bursting with bad ideas that amuse me. Which isn't to say that I intentionally give bad advice; rather that I seem to be incapable of giving good advice because it simply isn't in me. I, too, take naps under my desk.

I digress. People will ask me for advice and sometimes I will offer it. Today I am offering advice to a group who have not asked for it, because someone has suggested that I am uniquely qualified to do so. I was asked by someone who works with birth mothers to advise women who have recently placed children for adoption. I asked what "recently" meant and was given a nebulous response that I promptly threw out. For our purposes today I want to go beyond the weeks and months immediately following placement, because I've beaten the dead horse that is post-placement grief for these many years and I'd like to find another carcass to swat at. I want to talk to women who are out of the fog that settles when relinquishment papers are signed, but who have not yet hit the one-year mark. If you fit into this category, what follows is for you. (If you don't, all I can tell you is that life is full of disappointment.)

So, you've placed a child for adoption recently but you have reached the point where you are awake and dressed more days than not and you're no longer crying yourself to sleep. Good job! I knew you could do it. I wish I could tell you that it's a calm ocean and clear skies from this point forward but it's not. For the rest of your life, you're going to have little moments where it hits you that you once placed a baby for adoption and how could you possibly have done that? Who does that?

You did. You did, and it was awesome, and you're awesome. So what if a tiny lost sock at the grocery store makes you teary-eyed. You made a family. You win. And, hey, free tiny sock.

Anyway. I want to tell you some things today that no one told me when I was where you are. I don't know if they qualify as "Things I Wish I'd Known" but they are things to know, in any case, and maybe you'll find them helpful.

So. (A needle pulling thread ...)

You're probably at the point where people no longer have to drag you bodily to social functions. You find yourself wanting to go out and see people, even if you are slightly terrified that adoption or your baby will become a topic of conversation. Be careful where you go and with whom. I said in a previous post that your surprise pregnancy was a symptom of a greater issue. I believe that. I wasn't living a happy, wonderful life when I got knocked up. There were so, so many other things going on.

I'd bet a tenner that it's the same case with you. Hence my caveat. If you go back to the same friends and situations you were in before, I hope you've got the birth control thing figured out because if you don't you're likely to end up pregnant again. I know (and dearly love) a number of repeat offenders. I'm not saying it's easy to change your life or lifestyle. I'm just saying, be careful. Placement can be a fantastic re-set button. Whatever agency or organization you placed through should offer post-placement counseling (if they don't, they should). Use it. Become a better person. Therapy is a beautiful thing. Figure out why you ended up  where you did, and resolve to stay away from there from now on.

Here's a fun fact for you: for the rest of your life, people are going to misunderstand you and your story and adoption. It hurts right now when it happens. It bothers you a lot. It feels personal and offensive and is the catalyst for many a crying fit. You will hate everyone.

Here's another fun fact: it will bother you so much less as time passes. As you become more and more comfortable talking about adoption, correcting or dismissing people will take zero emotional toll on you. You will be much less defensive. You're still going to blurt out "placed" when someone says "gave up" but you won't tear up if they insist that their terminology is right or ask why you didn't want your baby. (I tell them it's because she threw up on my sofa. Bad joke. Sorry.)

You will also, in perpetuity, encounter people who think you made the wrong choice or that adoption damages children. Right now it hurts like hell when you hear this. It makes you angry and defensive and frustrated and you will rant. Oh, how you'll rant! But you will come to understand that it doesn't matter if everyone you meet for the rest of your life thinks you did a bad thing. You know you made the right choice, and your placed child is happy, and no one else's opinion matters or ever will.

Friends and family will ask about your placed child less and less. It will seem like you're the only one who cares or even remembers. This will bother you. Eventually this too will pass. I let it go with some people, and I brought it up with others. It turns out that many relatives weren't sure what I felt comfortable discussing. They weren't sure if mentioning Roo would be painful for me. The more I told happy stories about her and open adoption, the more questions they were comfortable asking. I still have relatives who pretend she doesn't exist. That's on them. I still love them and enjoy making them uncomfortable by showing pictures of Roo being her adorable self.

The media is never going to get adoption right. You'll be happier if you avoid movies and TV shows with adoption-related plots. I stopped watching the show "Glee" when a pregnant Quinn was counseled to give her baby to "Someone who really wants it." I knew when I heard that line that adoption wasn't going to be handled in a sensitive or accurate manner. I don't miss it.

I know some birth moms who go out of their way to watch movies and shows with adoption in them so that they know what bad ideas they're going to encounter and have to correct when they talk to people. If you want to do that, more power to you, but I hope you like the phrase "gave up" because you're going to be hearing it a lot. Also, let's compare our lists of things that "Juno" got so, so wrong. Mine is 15 items long.

Here's something I do wish I had known four years ago when I was approaching Roo's first birthday. It won't always be like this. The pain or the relationship or the need for visits and contact. It will all change, and it will be a good thing. My relationship with P and M is a continuously evolving thing. Because we are all adults and are willing to communicate openly and honestly, it gets better and better. I don't see Roo nearly as often as I used to. I don't need to. It's not that I wouldn't be happy to see her more often. It's more a matter of weeks and even months will pass and someone will ask when I last saw Roo and I'll think, wait, when did I see her last? The need to reassure myself that she's happy and healthy and loved is gone. The desire to see her and her family because I love them pops up every couple of months.

At some point you will realize that although your love for your placed child hasn't changed or dimmed a tiny bit, it fits into your heart differently. You feel that love for a person who is 100% someone else's child, someone you don't know as well as they do. You will realize it, and it will be beautiful.Your love won't feel like a beautiful burden. It will feel like a bird in flight.

I spent several years overwhelmed by the love that I have for Roo. There was so much of it and I didn't know what to do with it. I had a mother's love in my heart but I wasn't a mother. Then I saw this post on Humans of New York. A woman's dying husband told her to take the love she had for him and spread it around. I decided to do that with my love for Roo. It has made all the difference in the world.

There will come a time when having placed a child for adoption will cease to be most important thing about you. Your birth child will cease to be your whole world. It is scary and you might think it's never going to happen with you, because you love your child too much. But here's the truth: I love my Roo with every bit of my heart, and I will often pass several days without giving her more than a moment of thought.

It has to be this way. It's better for both of you. Your placed child deserves a birth mama who has used her experience as a stepstool rather than a crutch. Neither of you benefits if you spend the rest of your life obsessing and ruminating and crying. Even someone who loves and lives and breathes music has to turn it down sometimes and enjoy the silence. It's the silences that make music beautiful.

It's the time that I don't spend with Roo that makes our visits so precious to me. It's the weeks or months that pass without hearing her little voice that make every word she says my favorite word ever spoken. If I thought about her every second of every day, I wouldn't appreciate what a wonderful little person she is to think about.

When I was where you are now, I felt fractured without Roo. She was my whole heart and my whole life. She is neither of those things anymore. She is still infinitely dear to me and I think I'll always love her the best and the most. But I had to step back. You will too. Roo is P and M's daughter. For real. I had to let her be completely theirs to love her completely. I placed her on September 9th but I didn't let her go until nearly 2 years later. I didn't start to heal until then. I wasn't sure I would. I was afraid to step back and figure out who I was without her. I thought it would break me.

In letting her go, I became whole again.

You're going to get there, too. It's going to be beautiful. I can't wait for you to see.

If You Want to Help a Birth Mother

In my local adoption community, I am seen as a success story. Not as any kind of hero or role model, but as a success. I placed my baby for adoption after a brief stint single parenting. I went through the messy grieving process and came out of it a better person. Four years later I have a career of sorts, an apartment, a car, and mental health. I am doing well. I have a good relationship with the child I placed and with her family. I've got 99 problems, but adoption ain't one.

I know way too many birth moms who can't say the same. I have seen open adoptions - and birth mothers - fall apart spectacularly. I am more acutely aware than ever that I hit the jackpot as far as adoption is concerned. I wish everyone could be so lucky. 


I think this is why, in the last three months, I've been asked for advice by adoption caseworkers and their ilk. They all want to know the same thing: why did things work out well for me, and how can they ensure similar successes for the birth moms they work with?

I wish I knew. I am hesitant to give advice because every situation, every adoption is its own little planet. Every person is different and every adoption is different and things can change so quickly. I've never wanted to set myself up as an example of what to do or how to be. That makes me very uncomfortable, particularly when in adoption, two people can do exactly the same thing and end up with vastly different results.

I've tried to explain this, but still I'm asked, "What can we do to help birth mothers?"

I'm expected to have some exclusive insight as a birth mother. But all I can think of is how right after placement, there was almost no help on earth for me - not that there was none offered, but that nothing worked. The only thing that made me happy was seeing my baby girl and how well she was doing. I lived for her and for those moments. Other than that, there was too much going on to be helped by any single entity or program. I had too many different issues.

That's the real gist of it, isn't it? There are always too many things going on in a birth mother's life. We can talk all we want about how there ought to be support and programs to help women who have just placed a child for adoption deal with that issue. And I'm not saying those things aren't important. But what we're forgetting is that so often, an unplanned pregnancy isn't the overarching problem. It's a symptom. When a woman is facing an unplanned pregnancy in the kind of situation where she's considering and choosing adoption, the pregnancy isn't her problem. If you want to help a birth mom, you have to realize that.

Not that there's ever one single underlying issue. There are dozens. Low self-esteem, co-dependence, abuse, depression, anxiety, daddy issues … sometimes it's a combination. But part of what makes placement so gut-wrenching is that you've got the grief of placing a child layered on top of these other issues that were never treated. In my personal experience, if you want to help a birth mom, you have to help restore her sense of self-worth. 

I'm not saying that every single birth mom has made horrible life choices or gotten herself into a bad situation. But the vast majority of those I have met (and I include myself in this number) ended up pregnant because a lot of other things were going on. My pregnancy was a symptom of a much larger problem.

I've always hated the term "crisis pregnancy" because it sounds like some sort of emergency or disaster. My pregnancy wasn't like that. The fact is that it saved my life. I was self-destructing spectacularly before I got pregnant. Roo saved my life. If I hadn't gotten pregnant, there would have been a crisis situation. If you want to help a birth mother, don't look at her pregnancy as a crisis. Look at it as an opportunity to make positive changes in her life.

So, adoption professionals, here's my advice to you. If you want to help a birth mother, stop looking at her as a birth mother. Look at her as a person. She had problems before placement and she's going to have them after. There is no one-size-fits-all help for her. Don't put her in a box. You can do better than that. She deserves better than that.

The Wrong Question

I have been the worst blogger this year. I remember when I used to have time and energy and ideas for blogging and anymore I'm just tired. I love my job - well, parts of my job - but I am not now nor will I ever be a morning person. Getting up at 6:30 isn't particularly fun in the summer, but it's worse in the winter when it's cold (I hate the cold) and the sun hasn't even bothered to rise yet. I don't think I should have to get up before the sun. It's much bigger and much more important than I am. And then the lazy good-for-nothing sun can't even wait for me to get home from work before disappearing again. The winter feels dark and cold and endless and when people come to the circulation desk and mention that it's warmed up outside, I want to grab them by the shirt collar and beg, "Please, tell me what the sun feels like!"

I am not now nor will I ever be a winter person.

I digress.

If you liked A Series of Unfortunate Events, you will probably like the newest series of books by Lemony Snicket, which is called All the Wrong Questions. I don't always read juvenile fiction, but I've had a short attention span lately and 272 pages sounded just about right. Anyway. I had not planned on mentioning children's books on this blog, but this evening I heard a young woman talk about single parenting and adoption, and I thought, she is asking all the wrong questions.

 Let me begin by saying that I respect the choice so many women make to single parent. It wasn't for me, and it wasn't for Roo, but I can't make that decision or that call for anyone else. I can't advocate adoption in every single situation because I don't think it's for everyone. I don't want to step on the toes of any single mothers. I do want to say that it's not something I'd choose.

I'm going to interrupt myself for a moment to address a comment I got on my last post. I'd reference it more specifically but my computer is being dumb so I'll paraphrase. The commenter, a single mother, urged me not to deny myself the pleasure of motherhood just because I'm single. I totally get where she's coming from, and having parented Roo for the time that I did, I know that being a mom is pretty rad. But I would much rather deny myself motherhood than I would deny any children of mine a father simply because I want to be a mom. You are of course free to disagree with me, but that's a decision I've made and I'm sticking with it.

I had never before met the single mother I heard from today and I don't know if I'll see her again. I respect the decision she made for herself and her baby. I don't know why she made the decision she did and I don't need to. It's none of my business. Someone asked her if she ever thought about adoption, and her answer is where the title of this post comes from.

"I do wonder, what would my life be like if I had placed him? Because [single parenting] is so hard."

Sometimes someone's words sort of float around in my brain for a while before I can formulate a response. This was not one of those times. I knew almost instantly what I wanted to say to her, and I had to bite the insides of my lips to keep my mouth closed. It would have been extremely rude for me to say, "Pardon me, but as far as adoption is concerned, you are asking the wrong question." So I was polite and said nothing.

The right question is, "What would my son's life be like if I had placed him?" And the answer consists of every reason I placed Roo for adoption.

I asked myself the wrong question for my entire pregnancy and the first seven weeks of Roo's life. When I considered my own future, I could never even entertain the idea of adoption. I would be sad and empty and broken. I'd have nothing. It took me a while to scrape up the nerve to ask the right question - what would Roo's life be like? - and when I did I had my answer. 

Adoption is the only truly selfless thing I've done in my life. But it was selfless. I made the choice I did because I knew what adoption would do for Roo, and I loved her too much to keep that future from her.

It hurts my heart a little when I hear women talking about adoption in terms of what it can do for them and how it will affect their lives. I think it gives birth mothers a bad name. We're not all like that. Some women might ask the wrong question and place for the wrong reason (or not place at all, for the wrong reason, and parenthetically I do believe there are plenty of good reasons for not placing). But I know plenty of pretty amazing women who asked the right question and placed for the right reason.

 Adoption isn't for everyone. Single parenting isn't for everyone. But I think that the question, "What will my child's life be like?" is a question for everyone, and it should be asked early and often.

FAQ: I Would Keep My Trap Shut

I used to get a lot of questions about my perspective on adoption. I probably still get a lot of them in my e-mail but I'm sorry to say I am several months behind on my e-mail. Anyway. There's a question I was asked more than once and I always meant to answer it but I never got around to it until now.

The gist of the question is this - what would I do if I disagreed with how P and M were parenting Roo? Would I say something? Would I try to get them to do things my way?

The very short answer is that I'd keep my trap shut, because how presumptuous would it be for someone without children to offer parenting advice to a couple with two children? I don't know what the heck I'm talking about. I have zero credibility.

Maybe not quite zero. (This begins the long answer, by the way.) I mean, I think I did okay in the time I parented. But before I had Roo, what I knew about parenting could fit in a text message. I didn't know what made a good parent, or what characteristics a good parent would have. When I started considering adoption, I made a list. It was short, but I thought it had the important things on it.

It wasn't until Roo was bigger - more than a year old - and I saw her interact with her parents - that I started to see things that were more important. P and M are good parents in ways that I never even would have thought of before. I find myself almost taking notes, thinking, "If I am ever blessed with children, I want to make sure I do this." It's not always things that seem big, either. It's little things, like the way they encourage Roo to speak for herself, even though she's very small. She is so confident for such a little thing. I know her parents taught her that.

Granted, I don't see or know everything. But I know P and M, and I know they are the very best parents for Roo. How could I think to question their parenting choices? The only thing that I can seem myself taking exception to is spanking. I don't think it's ever okay to hit a child (I know some of you are going to disagree with me here, but that's how I feel). When I was trying to choose a family for Roo, one of the first questions I asked was about discipline. There were a lot of areas in which I was willing to be flexible, but this wasn't one of them. I did not want Roo spanked. Ever.

In this, P and M and I are in accord. They believe there are more effective ways of disciplining a child. I was and am inclined to trust their authority on this because they already had parenting experience when Roo came along. I know that some birth moms want the children they place to be the first in the family, but I didn't want Roo to be the test pancake. I liked that she was going to have a sibling already, and that her parents knew what they were doing!

But even if they didn't, even if I happened to disagree with something or think they should do things differently, I would keep my trap shut. Because it is not my job to tell them how to raise their children. When I placed Roo with them, I did so trusting that they would act in her best interest. I did so, trusting them in general. If I thought they needed my parenting advice, I wouldn't have placed with them!

This isn't to say that I think P and M are absolutely perfect in every way and that I am never, ever going to disagree with them. We're all human; it would be creepy if we agreed on absolutely everything. But it doesn't matter if I would do things differently. It's not my call. I know that they love Roo every bit as much as I do, and if they've decided on a course of action, it's not my place to question them. If I'm blessed with children of my own, I'll do things my way. P and M get to parent their children their way.

I love them, and I trust them.

Grief and Healing, Part 3

Happy 2012, blog peeps! Now that I've depressed the heck out of you with parts 1 and 2, I want you to cheer up, okay? Here's the ostensibly helpful conclusion. Your results may vary.



So, how do you heal? How do you move forward? First, figure out what you need to make things okay enough ("enough" being the operative word) – openness, therapy, keeping busy, acknowledgment from family members. Ask for it. Ask for it until you get it.

Write down your feelings. Don't worry if it sounds pretty or if you can't spell or if you have terrible handwriting. You don't ever have to read what you write, but getting it all out on paper (or computer) can be immensely therapeutic. Find things to look forward to. Maybe it's a visit with the adoptive family. Maybe it's a vacation, or going back to school, or work. Maybe it's going to Target to buy mascara. But it's important to have little things to look forward to, to give yourself a reason to get off the couch.

In psychology classes, you learn about something called Maslow's hierarchy of needs. Basically, if your most basic physical needs aren't being met, none of the rest of your needs stand a chance. This applies especially after placement. If you're not eating and sleeping, your mental needs sure aren't going to be met. So, eat regularly. Go for walks. Brush your teeth (for many reasons, please brush your teeth). Get plenty of sleep. Do your hair and put on makeup. Go outside in the sunshine.

You need to let yourself feel everything your brain wants you to feel, because you need to get it out to get over it. It might help to have a blanket or stuffed animal you can hold to remind you of your baby, sort of an object to pour your grief into during those times. The sooner you get it out, the sooner you can move on. But know your limits. If it gets to be too much, take a break. You can come back to it later. Don't force yourself to face things that hurt. If you need to avoid the baby aisle at Target, avoid it (I still do). If other people's baby showers are too much, don't go. If you feel like you can handle it, or if you want to get it over with, by all means do it, but don't force it if you're not ready.

Here's the truth: people are going to say the wrong things. There's not much you can do about it, it's a fact of life. Someone asked me once, “Jill, what are the right things to say?” I don't know, but I do know that it's really easy to identify the wrong things :) Try to be patient with them. Before you were in this situation, you probably wouldn't have known what to say to you, either.

Grief isn't easy. Ask for help when you need it – from your parents, your caseworker, the adoptive couple, your friends, your bishop or other clergyman. Tell them what they can do for you. If you need someone to listen without offering input, tell them, “I'm not looking for advice. I just need to vent.” This is important, because people are going to have a lot of advice, much of it unsuitable. If you don't want advice, tell them to just listen.

Remind yourself why you made the decision you did. It won't take away the pain, but it will remind you of its purpose. You're hurting now so your baby doesn't have to later. It won't always hurt, unless you want it to. It might hurt when you don't want it to, but they key is not wanting it to hurt. That's where you make progress.

You have to decide if this experience is going to break you or not. But remember that being broken isn't a badge of honor. Being happy, at peace, “moving on” isn't a betrayal of your love. You don't have to be miserable forever to prove that you love your baby or that placement was hard. You can move on, be happy, become better and still love him or her with everything you have.

The children we place won't want to grow up and find that placement has ruined, damaged or broken us. They want to be proud of us. They want to see us succeed not because of placement but in spite of it. We didn't place just so we could make ourselves better. But we can make ourselves better because we placed.

This experience will change you. It's up to you whether the change is good or bad. Who do you want to be? What do you want to make of your life? You don't have to decide everything now, but try to have a few ideas. Set goals, even tiny ones. Tiny ones are good at first. Don't tell yourself that now it's time to get your master's degree. Tell yourself, I'm going to take a class or two next semester and see how it goes. Go from there. Small changes are easiest. Don't look for a career right away when what you need is a job. If you want your own place, don't start looking into buying a house. Again, start small. Don't make any major decisions while in the throes of grief. Wait until you've got a clear head, whatever that means for you.

Your grief can be productive. It can help you grow. It should help you grow. It's up to you. I know birth moms who have gone through this amazing growth during their pregnancies, and gone right back to the party scene after placement. I know birth moms who have gotten pregnant again right away, even though their circumstances haven't changed. That doesn't have to be you. It's never too late to change your life. Be better. Start today.

Here's the thing - grief doesn’t ever completely go away - you grieve because you love, so as long as you love, you’ll grieve. But you can live with grief without it consuming your life. You can learn to live with it, and over time you'll realize it doesn't hurt much any more. The grief is there, an old friend, a lifelong companion, but a comfortable one.

Elisabeth Kübler-Ross, in her book “On Grief and Grieving,” said, “The reality is that you will grieve forever. You will not 'get over' the loss of a loved one; you will learn to live with it. You will heal, and you will rebuild yourself around the loss you have suffered. You will be whole again, but you will never be the same. Nor should you be the same, nor would you want to.”

You are not the same person you were before placement. I know I'm not. And I wouldn't be that girl again for anything in the world. Placement has taught me so many things I couldn't have learned otherwise (even though I wish I could have). God put Roo in my life to help make me the woman He wants me to be. I am better, stronger, happier than I ever was before, than I ever could have been without this experience. Even with the pain, I wouldn't trade it for the world.

My pain has taught me how to be happy again. It is precisely because I hurt so much that I am able to be as happy as I am now. Kahlil Gibran said that your joy can fill you only as deeply as your sorrow has carved you.* I believe that. We're going to be the happiest women in the world someday - we will hold so much joy! The potential is there. We just have to work for it. Grief is work, but it is rewarding. It has molded and shaped me and made me who I am, and I am so grateful.



*I paraphrased for clarity. The exact quote, if you're interested, is "The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain."

Dear M,

I wasn't very eloquent earlier. I guess I got nervous. I don't know why, but I did just the same. There were things I wanted to say but I couldn't get them out. I do much better with a keyboard and a few minutes to mull things over. I don't know if you'll ever read this, but I thought I'd write it out anyway on the off chance that you might at some point.

Congratulations! You made a beautiful baby, absolutely perfect. I know that all newborn babies are cute, but some are really squishy or splotchy or have lumpy heads. Your little one is exceptionally cute. You should be proud. You did something amazing - you grew a person! And you did a really good job. I am proud of you. I know that the past several months haven't been easy, to put it lightly. I couldn't have handled things as well as you have when I was your age. You are a strong woman.

I think part of my speechlessness earlier was because I wanted so desperately to find the right words for a situation where there are no right words. What comes next is going to suck, no two ways about it, and there's nothing that I or anyone else can say to make it suck less, or to help you understand that it won't always be this way. You've got to figure that out for yourself, in your own way. Oh, M. My heart hurts for you already. It doesn't matter how prepared you think you are, you're not prepared for what comes next. There's no way to plan for it. I wish it didn't have to hurt. It seems unfair that doing such an amazing thing should hurt so much, but that's the way of things. I know that you can do it, though. You'll find your way through and you will be a better, stronger person for it.

I guess I'm not doing much better now than I did earlier. I still don't know what to say. Just know that you're in my prayers, and you've been before, and you will be in the future. I'm here if you need me. I know people like to throw that phrase around a lot, but I really mean it.

Take care of yourself. You are still important. You were important before this all came about, and you're just as important after it. You are an amazing woman. Don't ever forget it.

Love,
Jill

"Dating" a Birth Mom

I was asked a few months ago for a bit of advice. I get asked for advice not irregularly, which is both flattering an intimidating. I don't feel like I know enough about anything on earth to give advice. But people will ask me anyway, and I try to come up with something useful to say.

Anyway. A few months ago, a hopeful adoptive mama e-mailed me. She and her husband were going to meet with a potential birth mother, and she was a nervous wreck. I can't blame her. I'd be nervous, too. And in fact, I was. I'm pretty sure that's what I ended up saying in the e-mail. As nervous as a couple might be, the potential birth mom is just as nervous. It's a pretty intimidating meeting for everyone involved. You want it to go well. You want to make a good impression. You want the other party to like you. Granted, the potential birth mother's got the upper hand here, because the decision is hers to make. But that doesn't mean she's not in a cold sweat at the thought of meeting a couple.

I remember being terrified at the prospect of meeting hopeful adoptive couples. I wanted them to like me, but not because I might give them a baby. I wanted them to like me because they thought I was a good person. I'm sure the couples I met got their hopes up a bit, and I'll confess that I did as well. I'd heard stories from other birth moms about how they felt when they met the couples they eventually chose, and I was looking forward to a heavenly choir of my own, or at least a bit of déjà vu. Neither of which I got with P and M, by the way.

I digress.

I've often found parallels between dating and waiting for placement, and there's another one here - it's overly simplistic and highly imperfect. But even so. Think of meeting with a birth mom as a sort of first date with someone you've met on-line. The comparison isn't a perfect one, obviously, because a birth mom doesn't meet every couple she has contact with. But as far as meeting with a potential birth mom goes, remember, you are attempting to start a real-life relationship, same as you would with dating.

When you were dating, would you assume that every person who asked you out wanted to marry you? Probably not. You're asked out because he or she wants to get to know you better and see if there's the potential for a more meaningful relationship. Likewise, a meeting with a potential birth mom doesn't necessarily mean she's ready to pick you. It means she's thinking about you and wants to meet in person to get better acquainted.

So, let's say you've been on a first date with someone and you had a great time. Maybe they had a great time, too, and they'll call you again and you'll enjoy another date. That would be wonderful, wouldn't it? But say that, although they had a good enough time, they're not particularly interested in a repeat performance. Would you take it personally? Would you see it as a sign that you'll never date again, never marry? Would you feel like this person was your only chance at dating, and give up?

I hope not. You might feel sad at first, and wonder what you did or said that made them lose interest. But I hope you'd feel better in a day or two and realize that just because this person doesn't want to go steady with you, doesn't mean no one else ever will, and it doesn't mean that there's anything wrong with you. You needn't take it personally.

Again, it's not a perfect parallel, but try to keep my clumsy analogy in mind when meeting with birth moms. If you meet with a birth mom once and never hear from her again, try not to take it personally. Odds are, it's nothing you did or said. She simply didn't feel you were right. It's no one's fault. And it doesn't mean you'll never be chosen.

One of the couples I met when I was pregnant had actually met with seven birth moms before being chosen. If they'd given up after I moved on, they wouldn't be parents today. But they had a little faith, and they persevered, and today they have a darling one-year-old girl who is their whole world.

It's okay to be nervous. It's okay to imagine what-ifs. It's perfectly okay to want to make a good impression, and I'd be worried if you didn't think, this could be the one. But it's also okay if this isn't the one. It's okay (or will be, anyway) if it doesn't work out. You might not think so right away. But don't lose hope. Just because this woman isn't your child's birth mom, doesn't mean you'll never be chosen.

I feel like this is probably some of the least-useful advice I've ever given, but I hope it was a little helpful just the same.

If you're in the mood for mostly-useless advice, drop me a line at thehappiestsad AT gmail DOT com.

Cold Risotto Redux

Confession time: I'm a nosy sort of person by nature. Not nosy, maybe, because that sounds disrespectful. Let's say I'm curious. I think part of it is that I'm the youngest in my family and I always felt like everyone else knew something I didn't. I still feel that way at times. I was the rare teenager who hated missing a day of school, because I was always afraid that on the day I stayed home, they'd announce something important, and I'd miss out.

I digress.

I was recently featured on the BirthMom Buds blog, which was a thrill for me. I found that, in the weeks following placement, when I was feeling down I could always find an inspiring quote or song on BirthMom Buds. Anyway. Every so often I'll click over to the post I'm in and see if anyone's commented - not because I think anyone should, necessarily, just out of curiosity. Has anyone found me comment-worthy?

There was nothing for a while and I was fine with that, because if no one had anything to say that at least meant no one had anything mean to say. But I clicked over a few minutes ago, and there was a comment. It was left by an anonymous person, of course. I've noticed that when people have unkind or unpleasant things to say on the internet they very rarely take credit for them. This person took exception to me saying that Roo was meant to be with the family she has. Anonymous said that if she was meant to be theirs, they would have conceived her.

I thought that was pretty mean. Does this person think that people with fertility problems aren't meant to be parents? Rude! Some of the best parents I know didn't conceive their children. I tried not to let it bother me, because I don't particularly care what Anonymous believes - I KNOW that God meant for Roo to be with P and M, and no amount of anonymous nay-saying will ever convince me otherwise. I tried not to let it bother me, because Anonymous went on to say that she (?) was traumatized upon being told that she was adopted. Cold risotto: served. And maybe I'd be likewise crabby if my risotto has been cold, too.

But I find myself bothered just the same. Part of it has to do with me mistakenly clicking over to the blog of one of the anti-adoption meanies I took to task here. I do wish people would label their blogrolls a bit more accurately. I expected a birth mother blog and instead I ended up on the blog of a woman who quote-unquote lost a child to adoption. And it wasn't enough for her to opine thusly. She had a few comments from people who tried to tell her that although her experience wasn't a good one, theirs had been. And this meanie called these people some of the filthiest, most vulgar names imaginable and verbally ripped them to shreds. I've read some anti-adoption stuff before, but this was the most evil and hate-filled. I felt physically ill after about thirty seconds.

You know what bothers me? It bothers me that these people have taken something like adoption - something that is, for me, an act of pure love on both sides - and turned it into something nasty and vile. I feel like it taints the proverbial waters. I feel dirty just having read such filth. I hate that I could ever be put on a blogroll with such people, grouped together with them under the nebulous heading of "first mother blogs." (A term I hate, by the way. I'm a birth mother, thankyouverymuch, none of this "first" or "natural" nonsense for me.) I hate the thought of people like that reading my blog and thinking mean, evil thoughts about me or Roo or her family. I feel sick just thinking about it.

And what breaks my heart even more is to see that these meanies are giving advice to adoptive parents who, meaning well, ask questions with the ostensible hope that their childrens' birth moms won't end up as bitter and hate-filled as the blog authors.

I read one such question and answer, and the answer made me very, very angry. So angry, in fact, that I had to stop myself from leaving a comment refuting every selfish, hurtful point made in the answer. I thought that maybe I'd have a new feature on my blog where I re-answer such questions from a sane, healthy perspective.

For example, I can't imagine that I will ever once feel hot daggers in my heart when Roo calls her mother "Mommy" even once, much less every single time for the rest of my life. Quite the opposite, at my last visit when I asked Roo where Mama was and she pointed at her smiling mama, my heart felt full.

Adoption is not an "ongoing loss" for me. P and M are not "the winner[s] in all of this." We all won - we all love Roo. I certainly don't feel like a loser. How could I? I did something amazing and it changed all of our lives for the better. Placing Roo is probably the one decision in my life so far that I will never, ever regret. The most peace I've ever felt is that moment when I traded my will for God's and accepted that Roo needed to be somewhere else.

I hate the thought of some well-intentioned, concerned adoptive mother being paranoid about talking to her child's birth mom because of the words of such angry, bitter people. I just hope that the question-askers asked the same questions of less livid birth mothers, too. I think our answers are much more reassuring and much less scary.

I've said my bit before about what I think of the Cold Risotto Susans out there, but the problem is that I can't change them, I can't shut them up, and I can't make them go away. I try to ignore them but it can be hard when they seem to come up more and more. They make me angry, and they make me sad. I just wish I knew what to do about them those times I can't ignore them.

How do you, dear readers, handle the angry Susans you run up against?

Cold Risotto

Today, I have a story for you. It's made-up but I think it's a good story. I promise there's a point to it. Here it goes. (My sincerest apologies if your name happens to be Susan. It's a lovely name.)

Once upon a time, a woman - let's call her Susan - went to a restaurant. Susan was very, very hungry. Some people might have thought she was stupid to go to a restaurant when most people cook for themselves, but that was Susan's business, not theirs, and for one reason or other, Susan was going to a restaurant for dinner.

Susan's waitress was very friendly right off the bat. She made Susan feel welcome and kept her water glass full and took her order and promised it would be out shortly. Excited and, as I said, very hungry, Susan eagerly awaited her risotto. She was so hungry, she thought this risotto was going to be the best thing in the world. As she waited, she had visions of risotto dancing in her head and all she could think of was how happy she'd be once the waitress brought out her dish.

Some time passed, and suddenly the waitress was getting as crabby as Susan was. Finally, after half an hour or more, the waitress slammed down a dish of cold risotto and the bill and stalked away. Susan was stunned. And the risotto, in addition to being rather cold, was quite possibly the most disgusting dish of risotto ever served in the history of food.

Susan was, understandably, appalled. She complained to management. The manager was appalled as well, and tried to explain things. Shortly after Susan's order had been placed, the chef quit. The waitress received a phone call from her boyfriend, who dumped her - on the phone, and while she was at work! The manager assured Susan that her dinner was an exception, not the norm. This was a top-notch restaurant with a good reputation. He offered to comp the dinner and pushed a gift card at Susan in the hopes that she would give them another try and see that their restaurant was not as bad as all that.

But Susan was unable to get past her cold risotto experience. She told every person she knew about it. She blogged about what a horrible restaurant it was, and how no one should ever eat there. When people mentioned to her that they'd eaten there and had a lovely time, she railed at them that they must be stupid not to see what a terrible restaurant it was, and she harassed those people repeatedly and with great force about what a bad decision they'd made. She ridiculed them for their naiveté. She found their personal blogs and left numerous comments about what idiots they were to even consider eating at that restaurant again. In Susan's opinion, this restaurant should be closed down immediately and not allowed to open again until changes were made to ensure that no one would ever be served cold risotto again - in fact, they shouldn't even serve risotto. Susan decided to make it her life's work to speak out against the restaurant, and she couldn't understand why the whole world didn't join in her crusade.

Now, you're probably wondering why on earth I am blathering on about snippy Susan and her cold risotto. Susan sounds like a real piece of work, doesn't she? Because really, who could have such an ego as to assume that if they had a bad experience somewhere, no one else should even consider that place?

Let's change the subject for a second, and then I'll get back to Susan.

Sorry, that's a terrible segue. Here's a better one.



That is an awesome Segway.


Anyway.


I have a great experience with adoption. I think it's wonderful. I might not tell the entire world to eat at this restaurant called adoption, but if I knew someone was hungry and didn't know where to eat, I would certainly tell them to consider eating there. I would tell them about my experience so they would know that, even though it serves up the occasional dish of cold risotto, eating out isn't a hazardous thing. It can be, but it doesn't have to be.

But I have noticed that there are a number of Susans in the adoption world - on-line, in any case, and they are just as snippy and unyielding and very much against the institution that they feel wronged them so much. They got cold risotto. And that's not fair, and I won't argue that point. What I take exception to is these Susans (allow me to apologize if your name happens to be Susan) who go on-line and tell hungry people that they need to learn how to cook because restaurants are inherently wrong. I don't like hungry people being told they're going to get food poisoning if they eat out.

You know what? I can't stop these people. I know there are people out there for whom adoption has not been a good thing. I feel sorry for them. The things that have happened to some people are unfair, wrong, and shouldn't happen to anyone. But I get tired of them insisting that adoption is a bad thing, refusing to believe that it can be an amazing and wonderful thing, simply because it wasn't for them.

Adoption was the best thing in the world for my little Roo. It was the best thing in the world for my mother. And it was the best thing in the world for probably close to 100 little children I can think of just off the top of my head. I'm sure there are countless others for whom it was also the best. We're all happy with our risotto. We are proof that the restaurant isn't a bad place, that the risotto isn't always cold and that, just the opposite, it's frequently the best dish on the menu.

Susan's risotto was bad, but that doesn't mean I'm going to let her tell me that my risotto was a mistake and that I'm going to regret it for the rest of my life and that I "lost" my appetite to risotto.

For every horrible, traumatic, food-poisoning story you hear about adoption, there are probably ten thousand stories or the best dinner ever that no one ever tells. Cold risotto makes for good news. A cozy family meal interests no one.

Is adoption always the right, best, most wonderful thing in the world? Nope. Because it involves people, and people are imperfect. But I think each hungry person should be able to decide for him- or herself how best to have dinner.

Thanks, or No Thanks?

Towards the end of my pregnancy, my mother finally started telling people I was pregnant (more on that as I get to June in my story). She told a few friends at first, and then a few people in her ward (church congregation). Instead of judging me, they were friendly and sympathetic. One woman came to visit me after Roo was born. And much to my surprise, a few of them wanted to have a baby shower for me.

I was stunned, but also excited. This was the sort of thing I'd longed for during my pregnancy - excitement, love, validation. One of the women planning it asked what colors were in Roo's nursery. I felt a little twinge of guilt (not for the first time) that my precious little girl did not have a nursery - no room of her own. Her nursery was a corner of my bedroom. But her bedding was pink and brown so those were the colors I gave. I was sent an invitation to the shower with a note on the envelope that it was for Roo's baby book. The thoughtfulness of these women I barely knew was overwhelming, and I tear up even now when I think about it.

The baby shower was on August 4th, and my mother and I got there a little late, which was kind of embarrassing. Also embarrassing was the fact that I knew maybe three people in the room. The rest of them were women from my mom's ward and she whispered into my ear who was who so that as I opened gifts I could smile at the appropriate people.

I hardly wanted to put Roo down or hand her to someone else to open presents. I think part of me always knew that my time with her was finite and that I needed to treasure every second I had to hold her. But I let my mom hold her while I opened gift after gift - lovely, sweet, cute, thoughtful things. There was also cake and punch and chocolate-dipped strawberries and pink gummy bears and ... so many perfect little details. I'm getting all teary-eyed again.

Each attendee wrote her name and address on an envelope when she arrived, and I was given the accompanying thank-you notes so that it would be easy for me to write one and stick it in the appropriate envelope. I thought this was a thoughtful detail as well - they knew how busy I was as a new mom and wanted to make things as easy as possible.

But how I felt at the shower wasn't a new thing - I hated to put Roo down, ever. I passed hours, days even, sitting on the couch with her napping in my arms, on my chest, in my lap. Part of the reason I think her head's always been such a nice shape is that I only put her down to sleep at night. Most days when she napped, I held her, not wanting to miss a single second of the first weeks of my precious baby's life.

The thank-you notes sat unwritten on the counter. Each time I caught sight of them, I thought to myself, tomorrow. I'll write them tomorrow. I started composing them in my head, but I couldn't seem to find the time to write them on paper. There were plenty of times, of course, when my mom took Roo so I could have a break to get things done. But my head was such a mess of emotions that I usually wrote in my journal then, or poked around on-line at adoption websites and couple profiles.

Then, of course, a few weeks later, God answered my prayers in a way that I simply couldn't ignore any longer, and I knew Roo needed to be with her mommy and daddy. Once that decision was made, I skipped sleep and meals for extra time to hold my baby. The thank-you notes could certainly wait. My time with Roo was swiftly coming to an end and I wasn't going to waste a single second of it.

Then I placed. My grief and pain consumed me. The sight of anything from the time I had Roo was enough to break me down again. Eight separate times I tried to write thank-you notes but ended up hyperventilating in tears instead.

And now I find myself nearly a year later, and not a single thank-you for the shower gifts has been sent. It's an awkward, tricky situation. I don't think most people in my mom's ward actually know that I placed Roo. Every so often my mom will come home from church and report that so-and-so asked how Roo was doing, and my mother has told them what choice I made. But I don't think everyone who attended the shower or gave a gift knows. And I think, what if the lack of a thank-you has made them think I'm spoiled and selfish and bratty in addition to being immoral?

I hate that thought. But it's been so long now that It almost seems ruder to send them out at this point than to not. And what on earth would I write in them? I could write what I originally planned, but it seems like I ought to mention what happened, and why it's taken me so long. But it's so personal! It felt awkward enough having so many strangers at my own baby shower. Even more awkward to have to tell every single one of them that God basically told me I wasn't supposed to be my baby's mother.

And then there's the fact that even though it's been so long, I still cry when I catch sight of the pastel Noah's Ark on the front of the notes. I still don't feel ready to write them! Will I ever feel ready? And what if when I finally am it's too late? I know I read a Dear Abby once about late thank-yous (from a bride, of course) and the consensus was that it was better late than never, but what if it's years later? Three, four, five years later? Do I mention the adoption? Would people be mad to know that I kept their gift but not my baby? Should I have returned the unused gifts? Roo did wear several of the outfits, but there were some things she never grew into while I had her. Should I write the original thank-yous as planned and then stick in each one a generic, typed-out note about the adoption? Should I leave the adoption out altogether?

I've been sitting on this issue for almost a year, and I'm no closer to a conclusion now than I've ever been before. I don't usually solicit comments outright, but I am today. What should I do? Choke it up and send them out now? Wait until I'm ready? Forget about it (my mother's suggestion, as she's given many a bridal and baby gift over the years - including to relatives - and not gotten a thank-you note)? I'm open to suggestions, as well as assurances that I am not an ungrateful brat for not sending them out 11 months ago.

The Ugly Truth

Note: I've been sitting on this post for a while now because I wasn't sure if I really wanted to say all this once I got it out of my system by typing it out. But I'm busy here in the land of Bono, and I figured this would be a good post for y'all to chew on while I get myself situated and work out some kind of schedule. I haven't proofread it in over a month, so I can't vouch for its total quality but I do recall being mostly happy with it last time I read through it. So, here goes. No rotten fruit, please.




A preface: I’m probably going to sound like a hypocrite here. I am not always sweetness and light in my blog, and I don’t doubt that I have said unkind things or passed judgment on others. I won’t try to defend myself here – there’s no excuse for unkindness, and all I can say is that obedience is a process, and that I’m grateful for a God who allows me to repent of my mistakes. Every day when I wake up I choose what kind of person I am going to be. I only hope that it’s apparent in my writing that I am choosing to be a kinder, gentler, more mature version of myself – a truer disciple of Christ than I was the day before. I plan to take all of my own advice given below.

That said, I offer the following observations that have, of late, left me feeling unsettled.

Lately, on a number of blogs, I’ve seen a lot of nastiness and defensiveness and judgment. It’s been done with a certain self-righteous, sanctimonious attitude. “I’m just being honest,” many bloggers will say. “If you don’t like it, tough crap.”

I’m not going to argue with that. There’s nothing I can do about sentiments I disagree with. And I’m certainly not going to argue the honesty point. These bloggers are certainly being honest. But what I take issue with is the fact that nastiness and rudeness is being excused because it’s given under the guise of honesty. We are commanded to be honest in our dealings with our fellow men, certainly. But we are not commanded to be nasty, to hurt feelings, to call names, to find fault, or to assign blame. Quite the opposite, in fact – the aim of being honest is to avoid hurt feelings and nastiness and defensiveness. There’s something called tact, and something else called kindness, and I think that both can be just as important as honesty.

As a teenager, I was wisely counseled to consider the following before repeating a morsel of gossip:
1. Is it kind?
2. Is it true?
3. Is it necessary?

I think it’s worth noting that the first criterion is not honesty. It’s kindness. The truth can hurt, and in some cases can even scar the recipient. I also appreciate that the third item is necessity. I love this quote from Elder Dallin H. Oaks: “The fact that something is true is not always a justification for communicating it.” (source)

I know that I’d do well to remember that, myself! Believe me, the irony of today’s post isn’t lost on me – I’m criticizing others for being critical. I hope it’s clear that I’m not writing this for the sake of being critical. I’m writing as a concerned citizen. I don’t think people realize how damaging their words can be. Even words said sarcastically or in jest can do lasting harm. I can remember very clearly almost every cruel thing that has ever been said to me. My youngest brother made a thoughtless comment about my eating habits when I was nine years old, and I have never forgotten exactly what he said, or how I felt when he said it.

We live in a society where it’s cute and funny to be mean or sarcastic. Rudeness and cruelty masquerade as comedy in the media. Jokes are never made for the sake of humor itself but are rather made at the expense of someone else. Critical words are what constitute comedy on television, and not just in shows for grown-ups. More than once, my jaw has dropped at the subtle nastiness (again, disguised as honesty) in some of the shows my 7-year-old niece watches. Even in programs for very young children, there is a bully or a villain. Cruelty is employed as a literary device to further plot and character development. I worry about what messages my little nieces and nephews are getting from the shows they watch. I take comfort in knowing that they have good parents to teach them correct principles regardless of what is shown on TV.

I’m deviating from my main point a bit here, but as long as I am, allow me to give another quote that I love, this one from N. Eldon Tanner: “The tongue is the most dangerous, destructive, and deadly weapon available to man.” (source) The saying “Sticks and stones may break my bones but words can never hurt me” always puzzled me as a child. Sticks and stones gave only glancing blows. Words hurt me much worse than any physical attack. And words say as much about the speaker as they do about what’s spoken. Indulge me a moment, I’ve found another quote. John S. Tanner said, “We are judged by our words every day. Nothing reveals us so intimately as how we use our divine gift of speech. Are we mean, crude, irreverent, thoughtless, smug, self-righteous, pompous? Our tongues will tell. Our language, too, reveals much about our integrity, honesty, kindness, goodness, humility, and decency. Language reveals character.” (source)

Anyway, back to honesty.

I hope I don’t sound like I’m advocating sophistry. Honesty is vital. It is crucial, and sadly lacking in so much of the world. It is precious. I think that’s what gets me so riled up – people are abusing it, and using it to excuse poor behavior, rudeness, cruelty, and a sense of personal superiority. To that, I offer this humble plea: please don’t. If you want to rant or whine or complain or dig your claws into someone, go ahead. That’s your right; you have agency. But please, please, please don’t do so under the guise of honesty. Don’t pretend that you’re doing what you do or saying what you say because you “want to” or “need to be honest.” Because you do need to be honest! You need to be honest about your motives and your mood and your purpose and your point.

I won’t pretend to speak for anyone else, but I appreciate it when people are open about those things. I know what I’m getting into. I know to expect a little bile, a little vitriol, a little moodiness. I always feel like I’ve been assaulted when I read something that begins with “I need to be honest about something” and ends with a scathing criticism. I've tried to state outright if I'm simply ranting or complaining, and I will certainly endeavor to do so in the future as well.

So, gentle reader, be honest if you must, but leave honesty as an excuse out of it. Please?

How On Earth Do You Choose? A (Sort-Of) Guide

Before I begin, I would like to state for the record that for me, "choosing" was a moot point. I truly believe that I did not choose Roo's family. God chose them for her, and He simply helped me to find them. I did not choose. I found. That said, it wouldn't have been very prudent of me to say, "Okay, God, I need names." I did have to sort through profiles and have criteria of some sort. As such, I offer the following.

When I decided to meet a few couples, S suggested that I make a list of questions I wanted to ask them. I couldn't think of a single one. My mother helped me to come up with a few, based on things that were important to me. And that's what counts, I think - what's important to you? It's not a stupid question if it's important to you. In my case, the things I absolutely did not want were more plentiful than things I did want. I had a number of absolute deal-breakers. I knew I did not want a couple with pets (hello, allergies), or a couple who were politically liberal, or a couple who believed in spanking as a form of discipline. And my baby's parents had to appreciate that it was just me they were getting - I didn't have a ton of information about the birth father, and he wasn't going to be part of the openness I wanted.

The following are things to consider, whether they're really important or not. If nothing else, they’ll help you to know a couple better. Some of them might seem overly personal. But my feeling is, you’re potentially trusting these people to be the parents of your child. It’s important to be thorough. And they don't have to tell you anything they don't want to, so it can't hurt to ask.

You might not care about any of these things - that's good! I think it helps to know going into it what things are and aren't important. Not all of these things mattered to me; some did, and the rest I got from other birth moms I know.

-How long have they been married?
-Why did they choose adoption? Is it something they are both excited about or is it a second-best way of having a family?
-What are their political views? Do they vote with their party or do they vote on individual issues?
-How do they feel about spanking? What is their philosophy on discipline?
-Will they encourage their sons to serve missions? What about their daughters? Who will pay for it?
-Will the child know he or she is adopted?
-What will the child know and when?
-Will she be a stay-at-home-mom? Will the baby be in daycare or will relatives babysit?
-Yes, they have recommends, but do they regularly attend the temple?
-Are they willing to be open? What does openness mean to them?
-If your baby is biracial, how do they feel about that? Are they open to adopting outside their own race? Will they make sure the baby knows about and appreciates his or her heritage?
-Do they have any pets? Are they indoor or outdoor pets?
-How do they handle stress?
-Are they close to their families – immediate and extended?
-Do they have any plans to relocate in the next 10 years? (Visits are hard when they live on the other side of the country.)
-What family traditions did they grow up with that they want to continue with their own children?
-Do they hunt or fish?
-Who does most of the household chores? How are they divided up?
-Do they engage in any high-risk activities, like 4-wheeling or extreme sports?
-Have they had any experience with adoption before?
-Do they watch R-rated movies? (You’d be surprised)
-How do they “do” Christmas?
-Are they musical? Athletic? Literary? Witty? Ourdoorsy?
-Do they have a nursery ready? How prepared are they, right now, for a baby?
-What are their church callings? Do they enjoy them?
-What did each of them study in college?
-Did either of them serve missions?
-What kind of relationships do they have with their parents?
-If the baby is a girl, will they have her ears pierced?
-Do they like to travel? Inside the USA? Outside the USA?
-Do they have family (immediate or extended) nearby?
-How do they eat – are they vegetarian? Omnivores? Vegan? Gluten-free? Sugar-free? Organic? Do they ban refined sugar and high fructose corn syrup? How do they feel about tap water? About soda?
-Do they enjoy reading? Singing? Do they plan to read or sing to their children?
-Does their home have a pool? A Jacuzzi? Stairs? A basement? A fenced yard?
-Do they hold regular FHE already?
-Do they have any habits they wouldn’t encourage in a child?

And if you want to start off with a laugh, you can always ask how they feel about child beauty pageants. I (accidentally, and much to my embarrassment) led off with that question when I met P and M, and we got along just fine :o)

Choosing - Some Preliminary Thoughts

Once a pregnant woman starts to think about adoption, one of the first questions that comes up is, “How on earth do I choose a family?” And aside from the decision to place, which family to place with is the most important choice to make. And the most overwhelming. Where do you even begin?

I wish there was a simple answer. I wish it was easy to go through profiles and say, yep, there they are. But it is an agonizing, heartbreaking process, and it is hard.

Tomorrow (or in a few days, I'm not sure yet) I'm going to post more detailed thoughts on this process, including some questions to consider. But I think that before you ask questions of a couple, you have to ask some of yourself first. Because not only do you need to ask questions, but you need to decide what answers you want for them.

What sort of parents are you looking for? I was told by one person that I should try to find a couple that reminded me of myself - people who were a lot like me. But the problem with that was, I drive myself crazy. And I wasn't sure if I wanted my baby to have parents who were like me! At times I felt I should look for the exact opposite.

I feel that, in P and M, I've found a good middle ground. I see in them the things I like best about myself, and the things we don't have in common tend to be areas where I am weak and they are strong.

You might have a lot of questions for a couple, and you have to decide which ones are the most important. Are you willing to consider an answer you don’t like for one question if you get answers you do like to the most important questions? Ultimately, you have to decide these things for yourself. And when in doubt, trust your instincts. If you’ve got a good feeling about a couple, go with it. And if you don't, or if you're not sure, be honest with them. Tell them how you feel. They will appreciate your openness and will likely respond in kind.

Ask yourself: Why am I considering adoption? What is it that I want most for my baby that I am unable to provide? I wanted my baby to have an eternal family. Going through a church agency made that easy - if a couple wants to be approved through LDSFS, they have to be able to take their baby to the temple. Use what's most important to you as a starting point and go from there.

(Pretend I'm Deborah Norville here)
Coming up next: a really wordy sort-of guide to trying to choose a couple, after these messages! Or after a day or two.

Watch Your Language

I don't usually borrow blog content, but I feel the urge to opine on the topic of positive adoption language. The following chart comes from LDSFS, on this page *here* (source code FTW!).

Negative Terms	Preferred Terms
Gave up her child for adoption	Placed her child for adoption
Real parent; natural parent	Birth parent, biological parent
Adoptive parent	Parent
His adopted child	His child
Illegitimate	Born to unmarried parents
Adoptee	Child who was adopted
To keep	To parent
Adoptable child; available child	Waiting child
Foreign adoption	International adoption
Track down parents	Search
Unwanted child	Child placed for adoption
Is adopted	Was adopted

Not every person who has an adoption connection is going to take offense to anything found in the left-hand column. I think with a few of these items it's sort of like how some people to whom the terms apply prefer "black" and some prefer "African-American." And similarly, I find that while many people involved in adoption may use some of the negative terms, they don't like to hear those who aren't involved using them. Sort of the adoption equivalent of the "n" word.

(I'm probably going to get a lot of tripe for that comparison, but I stand by it.)

"Gave up" doesn't bother me as much as what I tend to hear, which is "gave away." I did not give my baby away. That makes it sound like I placed an ad on Craigslist or Freecycle. That said, I neither gave her up nor gave her away. I gave her more. And I use "keep" instead of "parent" on a regular basis.

I also refer often to "adoptive" parents, but not as any slight on them or to imply that they aren't really their child's parents. In the case of my blog, I use it as a means of identifying people who have adopted. Not in any negative sense. But for my part I feel that if I simply mentioned "parents" it would be unclear if I was referring to people who had children the typical way and for some reason really liked my blog anyway.

Part of the reason - well, all, if I'm honest - that I wanted to blather about positive adoption language is because of one phrase that just peels the enamel off my teeth: "unwanted pregnancy."

I want to rip my hair out when I hear that. Just because a pregnancy was unplanned does not mean it was unwanted. I wanted Roo as soon as I found out she was growing in my belly. I wanted her before then, I think. I always wanted her. I did not plan for her to get here the way or time that she did, but never, ever mistake unplanned for unwanted.

I hate "unwanted." It makes it sound like I chose adoption to get rid of my baby - I didn't want her, so I didn't keep her. Please, please, please don't use the word "unwanted." Adoption truly is about love. Make no mistake, no baby could ever be as wanted as my Roo. I grew her and birthed her and cared for her and placed her with her mommy and daddy because I wanted her more than I'd ever wanted anything in my life.

When in doubt, ask the member of the adoption triad to whom you are speaking. "Does it bother you when I use that word? That phrase?" If it does, they'll let you know, and tell you which word or phrase they prefer. Simple as that. As in every other aspect of adoption, it is so important to be open and honest in communication. Which reminds me ...

Oh, and memo to H: referring to a baby as a "bastard child" just makes you look like a bastard.

A Few (ha-ha) Words of Advice for Couples

I first started this blog as a record for Roo. I wanted her to know where she came from, how she came to be with her family, and what sort of person her birth mom was.

It's grown since then. I would have figured I'd hear from birth moms about my blog. I've heard from more adoptive couples than anything, which has been great. I've gained a new perspective and a better appreciation of couples who adopt.

I would never presume to speak for every birth mom or potential birth mom out there. I only speak for myself. But, that said, I am a birth mom (and I have birth moms friends). I went through the process of looking at couple profiles and trying to choose parents for my baby. I saw a lot of profiles that were very well done ... and some that were a turn-off. No couple's profile or blog should be a turn-off! No couple sets out to make themselves unappealing. But it happens sometimes because they simply don't know what to say - or what not to say. As such, I offer the following suggestions (for blogs, profiles, meetings with potential birth moms, and relationships with your child’s birth mom).

Meetings and Relationships
-Don’t make promises you won’t/can’t keep – forever. When in doubt, don’t promise. In that vein, don’t start something you can’t keep up. As in business, it’s best to underpromise and overdeliver.

-Remember, when planning for openness, that things will be very different once placement is done. Your feelings about contact and/or the relationship will likely change. This is why it’s best to avoid overpromising.

-When in doubt, err on the side of too much contact with the birth mom. There almost can’t be too many pictures or updates or input or visits. The birth mom will let you know if you need to back off. Just because something may hurt a birth mom (baby shower, court date, sealing, etc) doesn’t mean you shouldn’t offer her the chance to be there. Not being invited can hurt worse.

-Be open and honest to a fault – COMMUNICATE. Don’t ever let communication between you and your birth mom get awkward or stressful. Love her and trust her enough to be honest, open and communicative. (P and M excel at this, which I love.)

-Remember, when you’re going to meet with a potential birth mom, that she is as nervous as you are. Gifts are nice, but she’s not going to expect it, and if you do want to bring her something, keep it inexpensive and neutral. Flowers are good. You don’t want her to feel like you’re plying her with gifts to get her to choose you.

-Relax. Don’t try to sell yourself or be pressuring. Just get to know her for her, not for her baby. If you happen to have the exact same tastes and views as she does, great. But don’t pretend you do to try to get her to like you. Be yourselves.

-For the love of all that is good and decent, don’t refer to her pregnancy as “unwanted.” Unplanned does not mean unwanted. Don’t ever lose sight of the fact that birth moms choose adoption out of love, not because they don’t want their babies.

-Pray every night for your birth mother, whether you’ve met her yet or not. Pray before you meet with a potential birth mom. Follow the Spirit. Don’t let your desire to be parents override your feelings. If a situation isn’t right, you’ll know. Remember, you’re not just looking for A baby, you’re looking for YOUR baby.

-Don’t take it personally if you meet with a potential birth mother – even if you meet more than once, and e-mail and talk – and she doesn’t choose you. It doesn’t mean she doesn’t like you or that you’ve done anything wrong. The couples I met with but didn’t choose couldn’t have made a better impression on me. They just weren’t my baby’s family.

For Blogs and/or Profiles
-Proofread, please. You don’t have to be the world’s best writers or even have a knack for spelling. But when you’ve typed “ans” instead of “and” and not fixed it, it just looks lazy. Not every birth mom is going to be as picky as I was, but the first thing I noticed about P and M’s profile (after their picture) is that it didn’t contain any glaring errors. I appreciated that.

-If you’ve adopted before, mention what things are like with that birth mom – how open is the adoption? If you’ve got pictures of her with your child, that’s awesome. Post them! Birth moms want to know that they won’t be dumped after placement.

-Speaking of pictures, please please please have some nice ones taken for your profile. They don’t have to be glamour shots, and you don’t need to be Photoshopped, but do try to look your best. Be yourself and have fun in your pictures, but birth moms don’t want to see your his-and-hers “white trash” Halloween costumes.

-Do you enjoy hunting and fishing? Good for you, and go ahead and mention it. Maybe your birth mom does, too. But maybe she doesn’t. And she might find your blog a bit off-putting if it contains multiple pictures of bloody, entrail-strewn deer carcasses or slimy large-mouth bass. I’m going to put high-risk activities in this category, too. If you enjoy 4-wheeling, that’s fine. But please don’t post pictures of the gory flesh wound on your back from the last time you crashed. A birth mom wants to feel that her baby will be safe and protected, and that the baby’s parents will live long lives, unmarred by any sort of horrible accident or disfigurement.

-If you waited several years after marriage before trying to conceive, keep it to yourself. I’m REALLY not proud of this, but there are a few profiles that mentioned that and my knee-jerk reaction was, “Well, you should have considered your fertility ten years ago when you were young and ‘enjoying it just being the two of us’ and travelling the world and building up your careers!” Whether you did or not is your business, and it’s not my place to judge (although obviously that didn’t stop me). But you might want to keep it to yourself.

-Blog! Update at least monthly, too. If you haven’t updated in 10 months, a birth mom might wonder if you’re no longer hoping to adopt, or if you’ve dropped off the face of the earth. You might feel like you have nothing to say. Make something up. Are you wondering how “Lost” is going to end? What did you think of the latest Twilight movie? Blog about it. A blog is a great chance to really be yourselves and show potential birth moms what your lives are like and what great parents you would be.

And Finally …
Try to anticipate what kinds of questions a birth mom might ask. What would you want to know about a couple if you were in her place? Here’s a messy, random list of some things you might want to mention.

-Will she be a stay-at-home-mom?
-Do you have any family traditions you hope to carry on?
-Do you have a nursery set up (are you ready, right now, for a baby)?
-Do you have any pets?
-Any plans to move in the next 10 years?
-Do you attend the temple regularly? What are your church callings? Do you have Family Home Evening every Monday night?
-Do you have immediate and/or extended family living in the area? (Roo has tons of family nearby, and I love it.)
-Besides infertility, have you overcome any other hardships/adversity? What did it/they teach you?
-Do you have any experience with adoption? Do you know anyone who has adopted, or anyone who was adopted?
-What would adopting a child mean to you? You can’t oversell how precious a child would be, although you'll want to avoid sounding desperate, as though your lives are empty and worthless because you aren't parents yet.

Overall, be yourselves. You don't have to be perfect, and you don't have to take any of the advice I've given. Odds are, your child's birth mother will love you anyway, warts and all.

A Good Question, and a Good(?) Answer

An adoptive mom asked me a very good question on Formspring. Her baby's birth father isn't the sort of guy who would win any awards for gentlemanly behavior, and she wondered how best to explain him when her baby got older and asked. How, she continued, would I want H explained to Roo?

I've thought about that quite a lot, actually. I know very little about H, really, and I hate that there's this void where half of Roo's history should be. I don't want her to wonder about him as this mysterious person all her life. But I also want her to understand that there's a reason he isn't in her life.

This is how I would explain it to Roo, if I was her mommy. I wrote it like a children's book because I don't doubt that Roo will wonder about her birth father when she's still young. It's rather a long children's book, but I have hopes that Roo will be a voracious young reader, much like I was. This is essentially the response I posted, plus a few tweaks. It's not perfect by any means, and I'll likely edit it and condense it later, but here's what I have so far.


You know who Jill is. Jill is your tummy mommy. You grew inside her and she gave birth to you. A little while later, she gave you to Mommy and Daddy where you belonged.

You have a tummy daddy, too. His name is H, and a long time ago he and Jill were very much in love, and soon you were growing in Jill's tummy.

Usually a baby's tummy parents are her mommy and daddy, who are married to each other and who take care of the baby. But sometimes a mommy and daddy aren't married to each other. This can make them feel sad. They love the baby very much, and so they don't want her to have an unmarried mommy and an unmarried daddy who are sad. These lucky babies have two sets of parents who love them: their tummy parents, and their mommies and daddies. Isn't that wonderful?

You know Jill, of course. But you don't know H. Even though H loves you and Jill loves you, Jill decided you would be happiest if you didn't know H when you were small. Here is why.

H had a lot of growing up to do still, and grown-ups who aren't finished growing up sometimes have big problems that make it hard for them to be good parents. They want to be good parents, but they don't know how, sometimes because their own parents had problems, too.

H's mommy and daddy (especially his daddy) sometimes weren't as nice to him as they should have been when H was a little boy. So he didn't always learn what children should learn from their parents. He never learned to take good care of himself, to be kind to others, to be like Jesus, to stay away from things that could hurt him, to make good choices instead of bad.

H made some bad choices. When children make bad choices, they get a time-out. Bad choices make you feel bad, and you know that they are wrong. Everyone still makes bad choices sometimes, but we learn from them to make better choices. Better choices make us happy.

When grown-ups make a bad choice, there is no time out. There was no one to tell H what he could learn from his choices so he kept on making bad ones. When you're a grown-up, the more bad choices you make, the harder it is to know if you are making a good choice or a bad one.

H made a lot of bad choices. Sometimes this meant that he was not a very nice person. When he met Jill, he was a nice person. They were very good friends, and then H decided he loved her. She loved him too, and they were very happy.

But H made some more bad choices, and they made him a not very nice person. He was mean to Jill on accident sometimes. This made Jill sad. She told H that she was sad. H felt bad and said he wouldn't be mean anymore.

But it got hard for H not to be mean. Soon H and Jill found out there was going to be a baby, and that baby was you. Jill was very excited. H was very scared. His daddy had not been very nice and he worried he would not be a very nice daddy either. Because he worried, he said things he didn't mean to say, and he made Jill sad and mad. Jill said things that made H sad and mad. They decided they did not want to be friends anymore.

Before you were born, H decided that he wanted to be a daddy, but that he did not want to be friends with Jill. This made Jill sad. Jill's mommy and daddy were best friends, and she wanted your parents to be best friends, too. And they are, which makes Jill very happy, and I'm sure it makes you happy, too.

Jill also worried about what would happen if H was your daddy. H made a lot of bad decisions, and she worried that he would teach you bad decisions because he didn't know any better.

Because of this, Jill found your mommy and daddy, and she made sure H did not see you. She knew that he would never be mean to you on purpose, but she didn't want him to be mean to you on accident and make you sad.

Jill hopes that some day H will finish becoming a grown-up and learn to make good decisions. Perhaps he has. And when you meet him someday, you will be strong enough and smart enough to meet him and know who he is, and still make good choices.

I'm Not Proud of This ...

I'm really not. And I wonder if I'm going to get a lot of vitriol for voicing this. But my current blogging philosophy is that it's best to be completely honest about my feelings and experiences because trying to paint a pretty picture isn't going to help anyone.

I need to make something abundantly clear, first and foremost: I am NOT for one second referring to P and M in any part of this. They are, in my mind, what every adoptive couple should be in patience and attitude and love. None of what I have to say applies to them AT ALL. I love them more dearly than I can say and if anyone even so much as thinks anything unkind about them, I will beat that person up.

That said ...

Sometimes - rarely, really, but every now and then - I get irritated by the attitudes of some hopeful adoptive couples. There, I said it.

I don't get irritated by many of them, and as I said, it's something rare. I love adoption and I think it's heartbreaking how many wonderful couples can't have children the typical way. Heck, I've got two pages of links to adoptive couple blogs in the hopes that maybe I can play some small part in helping their birth moms find them.

I try to go through my link lists fairly regularly to make sure I don't have any bad or invalid links. For the most part, I like reading their blogs as well. It helps me to feel that I've made the right decision for my little Roo.

But every so often I'll read something in one or two of their blogs that just grates at me. There's no kind way to explain it - no way of putting it that will make me seem any less juvenile and petty and selfish.

It's something that I'm guilty of, myself, which makes me a hypocrite, and I am acutely aware of that. It's something that everyone is guilty of at some point in this adoption thing, and I certainly don't fault anyone for it. It's just sometimes I get sick of it.

Desperation.

I'm not going to pretend that I can even for a second imagine the agony of the seemingly interminable wait to be chosen. I've never been on that side of it, and I hope and pray that I never will. I feel I can relate a little to the insecurity, the doubt - why not me yet? What is it about me that has kept me from being picked? - because I am single with no love life to speak of, and although I'm probably going to get crap for saying this, I think there are certain similarities in being single and wanting to get married and in being approved and waiting to be chosen.

I'll duck for a moment to avoid the rotted fruit being tossed in my direction.

All done?

Good.

But therein lies some of my beef with why-haven't-we-been-picked-yet desperation. And let me state again, I know how cruel and insensitive this is going to sound, and I am not the least bit proud of myself. When I read that sort of thing on a blog, my knee-jerk reaction is, hey, folks, count your blessings. You've got each other. You're sealed to one another. You've got something, even if it's not exactly what you always planned. No, you don't have children, and maybe you never will. But you have each other, and you've been approved to adopt. You have been found worthy to be parents.

Birth moms never get that official seal of approval.

And birth moms rarely have birth fathers involved to be there with them, to share the burden and the pain. I don't have a good man by my side to say no, we don't have a baby, but we've got each other. In my case, I don't even have a father around for support.

As a single pregnant woman, there is nowhere you can go for validation - no one to tell you that they've looked into your finances and your emotional health and relationship skills and everything else and found you to be a perfectly acceptable mother. The attitude is so often the opposite - you were stupid enough to get into this mess. You can't even take control of your own life. What makes you think you could possibly be responsible for someone else's? No one will tell you that you will make an excellent mother and that any child would be lucky to be in your care.

I searched for that kind of validation during my pregnancy. I couldn't find a single soul who thought I should keep my baby. No one on earth, not even my own mother, thought I could be or do enough for my child. I was found lacking. Not only did my baby's father desert me, but those close to me, whom I loved and admired and respected, also felt I simply wasn't enough, nor could I ever be. Those who knew me best found me lacking.

Adoptive couples have relative strangers - adoption agencies, caseworkers - telling them they are wonderful people, that they've lived lives of example and responsibility, that they've made the very best choices and will be wonderful parents.

Birth mothers have people who know them through and through telling them their babies deserve better than to have them as a mom.

When I was pregnant, I remember hearing someone say that it wasn't fair that so many loving, wonderful couples couldn't have children. The person who said it went on to imply that, as a knocked-up skank, I owed such a couple a child - they deserved to be parents and I didn't. My attitude, once I'd gotten past my initial offense, was that no, it wasn't fair that these couples were childless. But you know what else wasn't fair? I was single. These couples had each other, at least. Whom did I have? No one. Just my baby. They had each other for eternity. I had no such guarantee. This might be the only child I ever had, my only chance at a family. Yeah, their lives were unfair. But you know what? Injustice abounds. And I don't owe anyone anything.

I was wrong about that last bit, of course. I owed Roo the best I could possibly give her, and once Heavenly Father made sure I knew that, and told me who her parents were supposed to be, I gave it to her.

My point is ... well, okay, I'm not sure I have one. I guess it would be to be grateful for what you've got, even if it's not what you thought you wanted. I've come to realize over the past few months that this time I have as a single adult is going to benefit me. I am going to enjoy it while it lasts. I am going to study and travel and organize my life so that when, God willing, the time comes that I do marry, and have children (or not - there are no guarantees) - I will be a better version of myself, better prepared to be a wife and mother. I want to be happy just as I am - single and childless and slightly chunky. I want to learn to be happy without a man. I want to be responsible for my own happiness, instead of waiting for someone to ride in on a white horse and do it for me.

I think that having that kind of attitude - that I'd be happy with, but I can be happy without - is going to make me more attractive to men, and I think that there are certain parallels in adoption.

A birth mom doesn't want to read that your life is miserable without children. She doesn't want to feel that your happiness hinges on a baby. The most appealing thing to a birth mother (in my opinion, anyway) is a couple who wants a baby very badly, but who are making the most of life without one because they know that it will happen when it's meant to happen, if it's meant to happen at all.

And now I'd like to apologize for being immature and petty and selfish and whiny and rude and inconsiderate. It's a bit of a departure for me (don't laugh) and it's not something I plan on revisiting. I just needed to get it out, and if you've made it this far, then God bless you, little buddy. Because this was quite a rant.