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.

Oh, and By the Way ...

... today marks seven months since placement. That's a good thing, by the way. I'm happy. And Roo is happy, and her family is happy. Hooray for seven months of Roo having a ton of people love her!

I'm Awesome!

So.

I have, on more than one occasion, noticed a number of blog awards floating around. I won't mention any awards or blogs by name, since I read about 100 blogs on a regular basis (I need to get out of the house more). But there are "Kreativ" blogger awards, and "Beautiful Blogger" awards and awards with flowers on them, and teacups, and kittens, and mermaids and quilts and all manner of cutesy little things.

I once envied them - the recipients of those blog awards. I had it in my head that a blog award was validation; it said that the awardee (is that a word?) was delightful and lovely and that people liked them. I aspired to earn a blog award. I wanted validation. I wanted people to like me - and I wanted PROOF that people liked me. I wanted a blog award.

I wondered for a time if there was a website where people submitted their blogs for award consideration, like the movie folks do with the Academy Awards. I poked around, and as it turns out ... I couldn't actually figure out how on earth these awards were getting around, or how they started. And, eventually, I gave up.

But then a few days ago I started thinking again. I was doing a bit of reading and pondering on the topic of self-esteem and happiness, and I thought about how I like myself so much more now than I ever have before. I used to joke about it, but more and more I'm starting to think that I'm actually pretty awesome! (Don't laugh.)

And so I decided that if no one else was going to give me a blog award, I'd give one to myself - not just give it to myself, but make it myself. And it wouldn't just be any old teacup or patchwork award. I wanted something different and fun and quirky like me. Well, nothing says "quirky" like a chicken! I went through some of my winter zoo pictures and found a likely candidate, and opened it in Paint.NET. And so here it is, peeps: the Awesome Blog Award, featuring Captain Cluck.



I'm pretty awesome, and I have an awesome blog, and now I have a blog award to prove it! I bet that a lot of you (if not all of you) are pretty awesome, too. Wouldn't you like an awesome blog award, too? Sure you would. So Captain Cluck is here for the taking (although he probably needs re-sizing, something I'm too lazy for). Right-click, save, and knock yourself out.

You don't have to list any little-known secrets about yourself, and you don't have to nominate anyone. I'd get a kick out of it if you linked Captain Cluck back to my little blog, but I'll leave that to your discretion. You could also e-mail me with your blog URL so I'll know you're awesome, but that, too, is up to you. Self-confidence shouldn't come with strings attached! Captain Cluck thinks you're awesome. Don't you think you're awesome, too?

I Say the Same Thing Every Month, But ...

I can't believe my teeny-tiny newborn is nine months old today. Where did the time go?

She is such a sweet, happy girl. When she smiles her whole face lights up. She has the most adorable laugh I have ever heard. It looks like her hair is developing a bit of wave (I would love it if she got my curls). Her little legs and belly are delightfully squishy. Aren't fat babies just the best?

I love that little girl more than I can ever begin to say. I am so thankful that she is sealed to her mommy and daddy! Roo thinks her parents are the best things ever. In the last video I got, she kept looking from one to the other, as though she couldn't decide which one to smile at.

I remember that when I met P and M, I liked them so much that I was very happy for them to get a baby, even though it would be my baby.

I still feel that way. I am so happy that they have not one but two sweet girls in their family. They are the best parents a birth mom could hope for. I don't think I say that enough, but it's true.

I think that's it for now :o)

Madness

Ladies and gentlemen, I am an idiot.

Don't try to dissuade me, my mind is made up. I am a complete and utter idiot. It is 5am. Do you know what I've been doing for the past ... well, I'm not going to admit to how many hours, but do you know what I've been doing?

I've been updating my "Hoping to adopt" link list. For the past ∏ hours (that's pi, in case it doesn't show up properly). Although strictly speaking, pi is 3.14159265359 hours, and it was more than that. What's another mathematical symbol I could use? Come on, Microsoft Word, help me out here ... ℓ? ∞? ∑? ∂? Ω? Hmm ... well, let's settle for our old buddy i, the imaginary number. I updated for i hours.

I wanted to list blogs by state, first off. So I had to go through the blogs that didn't have a two-letter state designation next to them on my list.

I did that. I went through all the state-less blogs and added states where I could find them.

It looked messy; I didn't like it. I decided to list each state followed by the blogs that once had the state's abbreviation next to them. This took some time, but I was happy with how it looked. I felt that it was a bit neater, even if Utah was grossly overrepresented.

I looked at my list. There didn't seem to be many couples from Arizona listed. That bothered me. So I went to It's About Love and searched couples by state. Well, then, that was better. I checked each profile to see if the couple had a blog. I found a number of blogs for Arizona and updated my list. I was rather pleased with myself.

And then it occurred to me that a number of other states weren't well-represented on my list, either. So I searched by state again, first for California, then for a few Southern states. As with Arizona, I checked each profile for a blog listing. This took some time, but I finally felt I'd evened things out a bit and I was satisfied.

But then, I noticed a number of states I could search for that weren't represented on my list at all. Well, I had to do something about that, didn't I? Again, I searched profiles.

After an hour or two I gave up my pretense of looking for certain states, and began searching every state alphabetically. I skipped a few initially. Idaho had 100 couples listed, and I didn't feel like going though them. Utah had over 400 listed, and I wasn't even going to go there, as the saying goes.

I skipped 5 or 6 states because they had a lot of couples listed, and made a note of which ones I'd skipped, so I could go back to them later. My blog list grew, and I was terribly proud of myself for listing so many wonderful couples. Satisfied, I decided to get a snack.

Six Reese's Miniatures later, I started to think. That's always a dangerous thing, let me tell you. I still had the LDSFS tab up in my browser. Well, I thought to myself, Washington only had 35 couples. I could handle that.

Handle it I did, and I listed several more blogs. I turned again to the list of states I'd skipped. It hardly felt right not to look at Nevada, since it's right next to Arizona. And if I could handle 35 in Washington, I could handle 27 in Nevada. Again I skimmed profiles for blog listings. Again I added to my list. I was even more proud of myself, and treated myself to two more Reese's.

Now I only had three states on my skipped list. I can't ignore Texas, I thought. There were only 35 couples there, and besides, my dad used to live in Texas, and he'd always liked it there.

Idaho and Utah remained on my list. "I'll check them later," I told myself. The Discovery channel was repeating the "Mammals" episode of their miniseries "Life," and I wanted to see the elephant shrew again. The fact that it was nearing 2am didn't register as a reason to turn my computer off. I hadn't checked Facebook in nearly five hours, after all.

The tiny elephant shrew outran a lizard, and I cheered. I had a stick of string cheese and contemplated my productive night of blog-tweaking. I looked over my blog list again.

Oh, what the heck, I thought. I clicked on Idaho. 100 couples was only 10 pages of profiles. I could handle that! And handle it I did, checking each and every profile for a blog mention. I added several more blogs to my list while a baby elephant got stuck in the mud.

Finally, triumphantly, I finished Idaho. My blog list looked fantastic. And Utah was, after all, still the biggest list I had, so I didn't need to check profiles for links.

"The Deadliest Catch" came on. I got bored. A logical person would have gone to bed at this point. Well, actually, a logical person would have gone to bed hours ago, but I digress. I wasn't tired.

Wouldn't it be something, I thought, if I went through Utah as well? That would be a monumental achievement. I wondered if anyone had ever gone through the whole of LDSFS's couple profiles before, all 943 of them. Well, I thought, I'm more than halfway there already. And so, fueled by an unholy amount of refined sugar, I clicked. And clicked, and clicked. Utah had 428 couples listed. I did some quick math in my head - no small feat, considering that quick math is not a forte of mine with pen and paper. That was 43 pages.

No, no, I thought. This was madness. I needed to get to bed already. I was getting tired, and there wasn't anything good to watch on TV. But I'd already started. Okay, I thought. A few more pages. I'll do half.

I did half. I added link after link after link. My fingers flew over the keyboard and I half expected the letters to wear off on A, H, R, E, F, :, /, and ". Because, you see, I decided a number of years ago that I could remain morally superior to the latecomers to the blogging world (I started my first in 1997) by continuing to write my own HTML - ALL of my own HTML.

I repeat: I am an idiot.

It got to the point where I almost wept when a couple listed a blog. What IS it with you Utahns and your blogs? Will LDSFS in Utah not approve you to adopt unless you start a blog?

I was getting crabby and bitter, so around 4am I decided to take a shower. Dell laptops do not cool themselves well and my lap was getting sweaty. The break didn't do me the good I'd have hoped. I saw blogs when I closed my eyes. The phrase "We're a fun couple!" echoed in my ears.

Less sweaty and a bit more relaxed, I returned to my computer. I added link upon link. The English language started to look funny to me. Quotation marks turned into Sanskrit. I spent five minutes pondering the shape of a lower-case letter A.

And then, the inevitable happened. I'd finished profiles number 381-390. The end was near! I clicked on "next" and waited for a list to appear. I was puzzled when I saw the page that loaded. I hit F5. Same thing. Disbelieving, I looked at the page before me.

40 couples from the end, my search had timed out.

I laughed the laugh of the damned. I wept. I pounded on my keyboard. I had another stick of string cheese.

I may not have broken any records. To paraphrase Elaine Benes: They say no one's ever made it to the end of the list before. But gentlemen, I tell you now, I have come as close as anyone has ever gotten.

I clicked through 900 profiles.

And now I'm going to bed.

Little Wonders

I'm not sure what possessed me in January, but when I was signing up for an ASU Institute class, I went with "Building an Eternal Marriage."

Part of it, I think, is it fit in with my schedule. And I've already taken Book of Mormon and a couple of other classes that were offered on Wednesday night. So I went with BEM.

The class consists of me, two or three other singles, and about 12 couples, both engaged and already married. I should have expected that, I suppose. But do the couples have to be so physically demonstrative? I get sick of the constant nuzzling and intertwined limbs. One girl spent about twenty minutes running her fingers through her fiancé's Grizzly Adams beard. It reminded me of the way apes will groom each other. It was nauseating on many, many levels.

I don't sit behind them anymore.

Anyway. The last time I went to birth mom group (2 months ago, give or take), I left early for Institute. L, a dear friend of mine, said she wanted to go to Institute with me. Well, I thought, that'll at least be another for the Bitter Singles side in my class. And L is awesome. So we went.

I wish I'd checked the schedule first. Class that night was on intimacy and fidelity in marriage. Not, strictly speaking, about the law of chastity, but it sort of turned into that. It was awkward. Sort of. L seemed distinctly miserable, and I can't say I blame her. I thought I'd be miserable and uncomfortable, too.

But, wonder of wonders, I wasn't. Not once. For the first time since I took a flying leap off the straight and narrow 2 years ago, talk of chastity and marital intimacy did not make me feel like trash. It was amazing! I was able to listen to the material and read the student manual and take things in the context of my future relationship with my husband. I didn't sit there and feel like I blew it, like I was chewed gum, to borrow an analogy, from an irritating object lesson of my youth.

I wished L could have had the same experience. As we were leaving class, she mentioned how awkward the lesson had been for her. How it made her feel like crap. She asked if I'd felt the same.

"Well, sort of," I lied, feeling that tact and sensitivity were more important than honesty. And I wondered why it was that our shared experience had produced such different results. I thought about it for a few hours and I think I know what it was.

I used to feel like L did. I used to hide at the very mention of chastity. I used to feel like there was a scarlet letter on my chest (an "s" for skank). Like I was a horrible person who had done horrible things (my words and feelings here, not L's). I felt acutely that I had let down my Father in Heaven. That my Savior had had to suffer a little more because of my stupidity.

But I spent the better part of a year repenting, and being obedient, and in February I went to the temple and received my endowment. What a blessing it has been, and how grateful I am for my Savior! I know more deeply than ever who I am, and why I am here, and what I can make of my life. I know - I KNOW - that I have been forgiven for what I've done. God doesn't just forgive us, either. The scriptures say that He will "remember them no more." How awesome is that?

And I find that, the more time passes, the less I remember them as well. Maybe that's part of why my Institute lesson didn't bother me. The sins that I committed belong to a person I'm not anymore. Why should talk of intimacy bother me? I will have it someday with my husband. I am worthy of an eternal companion. I don't always believe it, but it's true just the same.

Tonight, in my other Institute class, my teacher ended with his testimony of the Atonement. "Our Savior loves us," Brother N. said. "He is glad He could suffer for us. He would do it again." I thought that was profound. It's easy to fall into the trap of thinking that Jesus died for us because He had to, because we are all rotten people who mess things up, and that maybe He isn't too happy about it. But He is! He wanted to. He did it for us because he loves us. I think it's wonderful.