Today I am guest-posting over at A Love Worth Waiting For, which is my friend Lyndsie's blog. She and her husband are hoping to adopt. They already have so much love and appreciation for adoption, which is awesome. They will be great parents.
My post is *here* if you want to give it a read. There have been several recent guest posts and they're all amazing. You should check them out!
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Formspring Revisited: Single Parents
I was asked this question months ago and I thought it was a good one.
Are you friends with any single parents? Is that hard?
I am friends with two single mothers, but they're both also birth mothers, so that situation isn't hard. Both chose adoption for their second children because they knew firsthand how hard single parenting was. I respect them greatly. I think that the decision to place must be that much harder when you're a mother already, and you know you can be a single parent.
Beyond those I consider friends, I am acquainted with several single mothers, and I don't wish to sound insensitive, but seeing how hard their lives are makes me happy that Roo doesn't have to deal with the drama of having a single mom. So, far from it being hard for me, it actually helps reinforce the decision I made. I don't envy them their lives for a second. If it works for them, fine, but it's not something I wanted for myself or for my baby.
That's how I feel now. Things were different when I was pregnant and considering adoption. Seeing single mothers was a lot harder. I always sort of felt that adoption was right, and I was certainly pressured by some people to choose adoption. I'd see single moms, many of them younger and less stable than I was, and I'd think, how come they get to keep their babies and I don't? Why did they get congratulations when all I get is warnings and unsolicited advice? It seemed grossly unfair. It still does, actually. I am a firm believer that if a woman announces she's pregnant, she should be congratulated almost no matter what her circumstances (almost, because sometimes bad things happen that result in a pregnancy). I don't care if she's single, on welfare, living in a van down by the river and has five other children. Babies are awesome. Congratulations are in order (she's already pregnant, so being a jerk about it, even if you feel she's made a mistake, won't change a darn thing).
I digress.
It bothered me that the girls I'd worked with at the hair salon, girls barely out of their teens with strange tattoos and piercings and ex-con boyfriends, got to keep their surprise babies and I, essentially a good, responsible girl, had to give mine up.
But I don't feel that way any more. I wouldn't trade lives with any of them. I didn't give my baby up. I gave her the best life I could. I didn't want her to have a single mother, even if that single mother was me.
Are you friends with any single parents? Is that hard?
I am friends with two single mothers, but they're both also birth mothers, so that situation isn't hard. Both chose adoption for their second children because they knew firsthand how hard single parenting was. I respect them greatly. I think that the decision to place must be that much harder when you're a mother already, and you know you can be a single parent.
Beyond those I consider friends, I am acquainted with several single mothers, and I don't wish to sound insensitive, but seeing how hard their lives are makes me happy that Roo doesn't have to deal with the drama of having a single mom. So, far from it being hard for me, it actually helps reinforce the decision I made. I don't envy them their lives for a second. If it works for them, fine, but it's not something I wanted for myself or for my baby.
That's how I feel now. Things were different when I was pregnant and considering adoption. Seeing single mothers was a lot harder. I always sort of felt that adoption was right, and I was certainly pressured by some people to choose adoption. I'd see single moms, many of them younger and less stable than I was, and I'd think, how come they get to keep their babies and I don't? Why did they get congratulations when all I get is warnings and unsolicited advice? It seemed grossly unfair. It still does, actually. I am a firm believer that if a woman announces she's pregnant, she should be congratulated almost no matter what her circumstances (almost, because sometimes bad things happen that result in a pregnancy). I don't care if she's single, on welfare, living in a van down by the river and has five other children. Babies are awesome. Congratulations are in order (she's already pregnant, so being a jerk about it, even if you feel she's made a mistake, won't change a darn thing).
I digress.
It bothered me that the girls I'd worked with at the hair salon, girls barely out of their teens with strange tattoos and piercings and ex-con boyfriends, got to keep their surprise babies and I, essentially a good, responsible girl, had to give mine up.
But I don't feel that way any more. I wouldn't trade lives with any of them. I didn't give my baby up. I gave her the best life I could. I didn't want her to have a single mother, even if that single mother was me.
Monday, February 7, 2011
Encore?
When you're a birth mom, you're going to get certain questions. Plenty of them are stupid and insulting and irritating, but you get used to them after a while. You come up with your own carefully crafted responses or ways to brush them off, and they're neither a big deal, nor very thought-provoking.
But some of the questions you get are worth sincere responses, and some of them are worth pondering. I get asked one of those questions every now and then - if I could go back and do it all over again, would I still place Roo with P and M? The answer is, absolutely, unequivocally yes. I would do it again in a second, no question. It has been the best thing in the world for Roo, and things haven't worked out too badly for me, either.
There's another question that sometimes goes along with the first, and it's one I want to answer today. If I found out tomorrow that I was pregnant, would I choose adoption again? Of course, if I found out tomorrow that I was pregnant, I would probably feature prominently in a number of medical journals as the first case of human parthenogenesis. (I cannot even believe that word passed my spell check.) I'm stronger now than I used to be. I can't conceive (no pun intended) of ever again being in a position where I would have to consider adoption.
I don't mean to disparage any birth moms who are in that position, though. Every person and every situation is different. I am NOT going to judge. I know of a strong, amazing woman who has placed two children. I am in awe of her strength. But in my case, with the person I am now, if I'm ever pregnant again, my husband is going to be the first person I tell.
But let's just say that's not the case. Let's pretend I ended up in a similar situation to the one I was in a couple of years ago. Would I place a second child for adoption? Obviously, things have worked out well with Roo's situation. I'd like to say that because of that, a repeat scenario would automatically mean adoption, no question, and the decision would be easy.
I'm not sure it would. I'm sure that adoption would be among the first thoughts to cross my mind, but I doubt very much that the decision would be an easy one. Adoption is never an easy choice. I still remember the acute pain of placement. It's not so far behind me that I can't remember it with clarity. I don't think I could quickly decide to put myself through that again. When I told family members I was pregnant, they all seemed to think the right choice was obvious - of course I was going to place my baby. How could I even think about anything else?
I could think about other things because I loved my baby so much already, and I wanted to be her mommy. Just thinking about being separated from my little girl was too much for me to handle when I was pregnant. It was too upsetting. I would love a second child just as much, and want to be his or her mommy just as badly. I don't think it would be a single iota less painful to consider adoption the second time around. I think it might actually be more painful, because I'd imagine that doing it all a second time would bring back the pain of the first time, and I would miss Roo that much more.
Would adoption be an automatic, a given? Absolutely not.
But the fact is, this hypothetical second child would deserve everything that Roo deserves. How could I deny baby #2 the things I insisted on for Roo? Baby #2 would be just as precious, just as loved - just as deserving of the kind of life Roo has. How could I justify placing Roo but parenting a second child? I couldn't. My own pain would be as selfish a reason the second time as it was the first.
I think that ultimately I would have to place a second child, too, for the sake of that child and my own peace of mind. But it would be an agonizing process, and knowing what I was in for would likely make it that much worse. That's why I am never going to be in that position again. I didn't enjoy it the first time. It's not going to happen again.
But some of the questions you get are worth sincere responses, and some of them are worth pondering. I get asked one of those questions every now and then - if I could go back and do it all over again, would I still place Roo with P and M? The answer is, absolutely, unequivocally yes. I would do it again in a second, no question. It has been the best thing in the world for Roo, and things haven't worked out too badly for me, either.
There's another question that sometimes goes along with the first, and it's one I want to answer today. If I found out tomorrow that I was pregnant, would I choose adoption again? Of course, if I found out tomorrow that I was pregnant, I would probably feature prominently in a number of medical journals as the first case of human parthenogenesis. (I cannot even believe that word passed my spell check.) I'm stronger now than I used to be. I can't conceive (no pun intended) of ever again being in a position where I would have to consider adoption.
I don't mean to disparage any birth moms who are in that position, though. Every person and every situation is different. I am NOT going to judge. I know of a strong, amazing woman who has placed two children. I am in awe of her strength. But in my case, with the person I am now, if I'm ever pregnant again, my husband is going to be the first person I tell.
But let's just say that's not the case. Let's pretend I ended up in a similar situation to the one I was in a couple of years ago. Would I place a second child for adoption? Obviously, things have worked out well with Roo's situation. I'd like to say that because of that, a repeat scenario would automatically mean adoption, no question, and the decision would be easy.
I'm not sure it would. I'm sure that adoption would be among the first thoughts to cross my mind, but I doubt very much that the decision would be an easy one. Adoption is never an easy choice. I still remember the acute pain of placement. It's not so far behind me that I can't remember it with clarity. I don't think I could quickly decide to put myself through that again. When I told family members I was pregnant, they all seemed to think the right choice was obvious - of course I was going to place my baby. How could I even think about anything else?
I could think about other things because I loved my baby so much already, and I wanted to be her mommy. Just thinking about being separated from my little girl was too much for me to handle when I was pregnant. It was too upsetting. I would love a second child just as much, and want to be his or her mommy just as badly. I don't think it would be a single iota less painful to consider adoption the second time around. I think it might actually be more painful, because I'd imagine that doing it all a second time would bring back the pain of the first time, and I would miss Roo that much more.
Would adoption be an automatic, a given? Absolutely not.
But the fact is, this hypothetical second child would deserve everything that Roo deserves. How could I deny baby #2 the things I insisted on for Roo? Baby #2 would be just as precious, just as loved - just as deserving of the kind of life Roo has. How could I justify placing Roo but parenting a second child? I couldn't. My own pain would be as selfish a reason the second time as it was the first.
I think that ultimately I would have to place a second child, too, for the sake of that child and my own peace of mind. But it would be an agonizing process, and knowing what I was in for would likely make it that much worse. That's why I am never going to be in that position again. I didn't enjoy it the first time. It's not going to happen again.
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Unrealistic Expectations
Someone e-mailed me a question a few weeks ago and I've been sort of sitting on it since then, unsure of exactly how to answer it because I'm unsure of exactly what the point of the question was.
But I've been thinking about it, and I've got an idea or two about what I want to say, and so here it is.
The question (I've paraphrased):
Do you ever think that your blog might give birthmothers an unrealistic idea about openness and their relationship with their baby's adoptive parents? Or that potential adoptive parents might get wrong ideas about their birth mom's maturity and the relationship they might have?
My knee-jerk response is to be a bit defensive - understandably, in my opinion. My story and the people in it are all precious to me, and I turn into an angry mama bear if I feel like my adoption story is being criticized at all. Take exception to me and my personality and attitude if you want, but you'd just better leave P and M out of it.
But as I've thought about it, I think I can sort of see where this question is going. Mine is a happy adoption story. Maybe it seems too good to be true to people who have had unhappy adoption experiences. Of course, I think y'all know how I feel about people who let their bad experiences ruin things for the rest of us. But I thought, maybe the question-asker is in the pre-placement phase of adoption and isn't sure what to expect. I like that point of view better, and that's the one I will respectfully address here.
As I said, Roo's adoption story is a happy one. It started off as a happy sad, and now it's mostly a happy happy. This is my blog, and I tell the adoption story I know best. I've tried to emphasize that my story is just that: mine. I don't pretend to speak for anyone else, or set myself up as an example of how everyone's adoption should be. I'm not saying, this is how your adoption should be, or how it could be. I'm saying, this is how mine is - it's imperfect, but it works.
I'm acutely aware that my situation is what many would consider a best-case scenario. I know that a lot of people aren't as lucky as I am in that regard. But you know what? There are a lot of negative, angry adoption stories clogging the internet, and I feel like my happy story helps to balance them out.
Every adoption is different, because every person is different and they're going to relate to other people differently. My story - Roo's story - is the way it is because of who I am, and who P and M are. The only adoption in the world that is going to be like Roo's is ... well, Roo's. I do think that maybe my story is an example of the potential that there is in an open adoption and of the kind of growth and healing that openness can foster. If all the parties involved are mature and willing to communicate with each other and be honest, open adoption can be an amazing, wonderful thing.
But it depends on who you are, and where you are in life, and if you're willing to work for it. You get out of a relationship just what you put into it. I'm not going to say that my relationship with Roo's parents is perfect - far from it, with my lousy people skills! - but I do feel like it gets better as time passes. It is continually evolving, and I do feel like we're in a place where if anything needed to change or needed to be said, it could probably be changed or said. I think that's the important thing - not that we're at some level of openness that others perceive to be ideal, but that what we've got works for us, and that we're comfortable discussing things when we need to.
I'll say it again - my relationship with P and M is far from perfect. But no relationship is perfect! Not a single one. People are imperfect. I am an abysmal communicator, and I made mistakes early on in our relationship that I'd take back if I could. But we love each other. They are Roo's parents, and I love them. No matter what happens, I know that P and M love me, too, and most important, they love Roo. I'm not going to say that love conquers all, but it helps.
So, I guess the short answer (I'm no good at those) is that, no, I don't think it does. I'm going to credit my blog readers with being smart enough to know I'm just one person writing about one experience.
But I've been thinking about it, and I've got an idea or two about what I want to say, and so here it is.
The question (I've paraphrased):
Do you ever think that your blog might give birthmothers an unrealistic idea about openness and their relationship with their baby's adoptive parents? Or that potential adoptive parents might get wrong ideas about their birth mom's maturity and the relationship they might have?
My knee-jerk response is to be a bit defensive - understandably, in my opinion. My story and the people in it are all precious to me, and I turn into an angry mama bear if I feel like my adoption story is being criticized at all. Take exception to me and my personality and attitude if you want, but you'd just better leave P and M out of it.
But as I've thought about it, I think I can sort of see where this question is going. Mine is a happy adoption story. Maybe it seems too good to be true to people who have had unhappy adoption experiences. Of course, I think y'all know how I feel about people who let their bad experiences ruin things for the rest of us. But I thought, maybe the question-asker is in the pre-placement phase of adoption and isn't sure what to expect. I like that point of view better, and that's the one I will respectfully address here.
As I said, Roo's adoption story is a happy one. It started off as a happy sad, and now it's mostly a happy happy. This is my blog, and I tell the adoption story I know best. I've tried to emphasize that my story is just that: mine. I don't pretend to speak for anyone else, or set myself up as an example of how everyone's adoption should be. I'm not saying, this is how your adoption should be, or how it could be. I'm saying, this is how mine is - it's imperfect, but it works.
I'm acutely aware that my situation is what many would consider a best-case scenario. I know that a lot of people aren't as lucky as I am in that regard. But you know what? There are a lot of negative, angry adoption stories clogging the internet, and I feel like my happy story helps to balance them out.
Every adoption is different, because every person is different and they're going to relate to other people differently. My story - Roo's story - is the way it is because of who I am, and who P and M are. The only adoption in the world that is going to be like Roo's is ... well, Roo's. I do think that maybe my story is an example of the potential that there is in an open adoption and of the kind of growth and healing that openness can foster. If all the parties involved are mature and willing to communicate with each other and be honest, open adoption can be an amazing, wonderful thing.
But it depends on who you are, and where you are in life, and if you're willing to work for it. You get out of a relationship just what you put into it. I'm not going to say that my relationship with Roo's parents is perfect - far from it, with my lousy people skills! - but I do feel like it gets better as time passes. It is continually evolving, and I do feel like we're in a place where if anything needed to change or needed to be said, it could probably be changed or said. I think that's the important thing - not that we're at some level of openness that others perceive to be ideal, but that what we've got works for us, and that we're comfortable discussing things when we need to.
I'll say it again - my relationship with P and M is far from perfect. But no relationship is perfect! Not a single one. People are imperfect. I am an abysmal communicator, and I made mistakes early on in our relationship that I'd take back if I could. But we love each other. They are Roo's parents, and I love them. No matter what happens, I know that P and M love me, too, and most important, they love Roo. I'm not going to say that love conquers all, but it helps.
So, I guess the short answer (I'm no good at those) is that, no, I don't think it does. I'm going to credit my blog readers with being smart enough to know I'm just one person writing about one experience.
Friday, January 28, 2011
Outreach
I have been busy lately.
Busy is something sort of new for me. I'm not sure I like it yet. I haven't had time to decide. It is nice to have my days full. The less time I have to sit around, the less time I have to decide I am dissatisfied with some aspect of my life. Most of my time is accounted for, and I'm okay with it. It's nice to have things to do.
When I decided to go back to school this semester, I figured that was it for doing adoption outreach. I have school in the morning and work in the afternoon. It made me a little sad to think about, actually, because I love doing outreach presentations. But what could I do?
What I did was jump at the chance to present a week ago Wednesday, because instead of speaking with just any adoptive mom, I had the chance to speak with Roo's mom, M! I'd never done a presentation with her before. I know she's heard my rambling story several times at adoption academies and the like. I've heard her and P's story a few times in bits and pieces. But we've never had the chance to speak together. How could I turn down the chance? I'm blessed with a very kind, very reasonable supervisor at work. My schedule was rearranged.
I don't typically get very nervous about speaking. I never really have. Most people dislike public speaking but I love it. Given a topic and five minutes to prepare, I think I could comfortably address the United Nations. High schoolers are no sweat. But this time I was nervous. I wanted to do well because M was there. I think I felt like I needed to do well to keep from detracting from M's story. I spoke first. I rambled. Boy, did I ramble! I think I overdid the rambling. My words got mixed up, which happens sometimes when too many of them pile up in my brain. As I was speaking I thought, I didn't need to mention this. I should have said that. I forgot something important.
I usually think that, though. I mean, it's a difficult thing, isn't it? Trying to explain to a room full of teenagers that desperately loving my little girl and placing her for adoption aren't mutually exclusive. Just saying "It was the best thing for her" feels insufficient. Even here on my blog, where I have seemingly infinite time to write and edit, I struggle with explaining my decision properly. I'm not sure that the words I want to use actually exist.
Every time I finish speaking to a high school class, I wonder if any of them really understand. I think that when you're younger love is a selfish sort of thing. As an adolescent, it's like that song - you always hurt the one you love. Part of growing up, of being a parent, is hurting for the one you love, hurting so they don't have to.
Well, shoot. Why couldn't I have said that on Wednesday? Oh well. I reckon I did well enough. I only cried once, during the same part of my recitation that always makes me cry. I'm not sure why, but when I talk about seeing newborn Roo for the first time, I turn into a faucet. But I mostly just teared up this time. I wonder if one of these days I'll get through without crying at all.
Then it was M's turn. I loved hearing her speak. I had the thought that the story that she was telling was probably similar to the story she will tell Roo someday about how they became a family. I think I cried more at M's story than at mine. Infertility is simply heartbreaking. I've always thought so in the abstract, but hearing the personal experience of someone I love so much just killed me. But P and M are strong. They weren't content to accept that they wouldn't be parents. Now they have two smart, beautiful little girls. They are a family who can handle anything life throws at them. How lucky is Roo to grow up with that? And how lucky am I that I get to see it?
I am a spoiled girl, really. I know that openness is supposed to be just as beneficial for the adoptee, but while she's still so small, I feel like I get the better end of the bargain.
I could tell during the presentation that it was a little weird for some of the students to see me and M together. I don't know if they could wrap their brains around the two of us being in the same room, sitting next to each other, talking to each other like good friends. I wish I'd thought to explain that better. M is Roo's mommy, the only person I know of who loves Roo as much as I do - she's the only other person who has been Roo's mother. How could I not love M dearly? How could I not be her friend?
It's probably a foreign concept to most people - that a birth mother and the adoptive mother she placed with keep track of each other and stay in each other's lives. It's not what you hear about in the media. It's not what people expect. But I wouldn't have it any other way.
Busy is something sort of new for me. I'm not sure I like it yet. I haven't had time to decide. It is nice to have my days full. The less time I have to sit around, the less time I have to decide I am dissatisfied with some aspect of my life. Most of my time is accounted for, and I'm okay with it. It's nice to have things to do.
When I decided to go back to school this semester, I figured that was it for doing adoption outreach. I have school in the morning and work in the afternoon. It made me a little sad to think about, actually, because I love doing outreach presentations. But what could I do?
What I did was jump at the chance to present a week ago Wednesday, because instead of speaking with just any adoptive mom, I had the chance to speak with Roo's mom, M! I'd never done a presentation with her before. I know she's heard my rambling story several times at adoption academies and the like. I've heard her and P's story a few times in bits and pieces. But we've never had the chance to speak together. How could I turn down the chance? I'm blessed with a very kind, very reasonable supervisor at work. My schedule was rearranged.
I don't typically get very nervous about speaking. I never really have. Most people dislike public speaking but I love it. Given a topic and five minutes to prepare, I think I could comfortably address the United Nations. High schoolers are no sweat. But this time I was nervous. I wanted to do well because M was there. I think I felt like I needed to do well to keep from detracting from M's story. I spoke first. I rambled. Boy, did I ramble! I think I overdid the rambling. My words got mixed up, which happens sometimes when too many of them pile up in my brain. As I was speaking I thought, I didn't need to mention this. I should have said that. I forgot something important.
I usually think that, though. I mean, it's a difficult thing, isn't it? Trying to explain to a room full of teenagers that desperately loving my little girl and placing her for adoption aren't mutually exclusive. Just saying "It was the best thing for her" feels insufficient. Even here on my blog, where I have seemingly infinite time to write and edit, I struggle with explaining my decision properly. I'm not sure that the words I want to use actually exist.
Every time I finish speaking to a high school class, I wonder if any of them really understand. I think that when you're younger love is a selfish sort of thing. As an adolescent, it's like that song - you always hurt the one you love. Part of growing up, of being a parent, is hurting for the one you love, hurting so they don't have to.
Well, shoot. Why couldn't I have said that on Wednesday? Oh well. I reckon I did well enough. I only cried once, during the same part of my recitation that always makes me cry. I'm not sure why, but when I talk about seeing newborn Roo for the first time, I turn into a faucet. But I mostly just teared up this time. I wonder if one of these days I'll get through without crying at all.
Then it was M's turn. I loved hearing her speak. I had the thought that the story that she was telling was probably similar to the story she will tell Roo someday about how they became a family. I think I cried more at M's story than at mine. Infertility is simply heartbreaking. I've always thought so in the abstract, but hearing the personal experience of someone I love so much just killed me. But P and M are strong. They weren't content to accept that they wouldn't be parents. Now they have two smart, beautiful little girls. They are a family who can handle anything life throws at them. How lucky is Roo to grow up with that? And how lucky am I that I get to see it?
I am a spoiled girl, really. I know that openness is supposed to be just as beneficial for the adoptee, but while she's still so small, I feel like I get the better end of the bargain.
I could tell during the presentation that it was a little weird for some of the students to see me and M together. I don't know if they could wrap their brains around the two of us being in the same room, sitting next to each other, talking to each other like good friends. I wish I'd thought to explain that better. M is Roo's mommy, the only person I know of who loves Roo as much as I do - she's the only other person who has been Roo's mother. How could I not love M dearly? How could I not be her friend?
It's probably a foreign concept to most people - that a birth mother and the adoptive mother she placed with keep track of each other and stay in each other's lives. It's not what you hear about in the media. It's not what people expect. But I wouldn't have it any other way.
Monday, January 24, 2011
Guest Post
Today I am guest posting on my friend Brittany's blog. Have I ever said how much I love her blog? I love her blog. Click on over HERE and check it out. Or, if you prefer to go directly to my post, click HERE instead.
My post is part of a series of guest posts on phantoms in adoption. It is awesome. The series, not my post. Not that my post isn't awesome, but they're all awesome.
The good news, if you've missed my regularly scheduled blathering, is that I got a bunch of writing done this weekend when I was supposed to be doing homework, so I should be able to post a bit more regularly. In the meantime, for today, there's the guest post.
My post is part of a series of guest posts on phantoms in adoption. It is awesome. The series, not my post. Not that my post isn't awesome, but they're all awesome.
The good news, if you've missed my regularly scheduled blathering, is that I got a bunch of writing done this weekend when I was supposed to be doing homework, so I should be able to post a bit more regularly. In the meantime, for today, there's the guest post.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
