Cigarettes & Coffee

outing

2009-11-01T13:54:00.002-05:00

until last week, i hadn't uploaded any pics of The Kiddo to Faceb**k. it wasn't that i was ashamed or embarrassed, i just didn't feel like fielding potential questions from the girl who sat next to me in sophomore biology or those of her ilk. in an uploading frenzy, i threw some in there, putting them in the "Family" album. and i think three people noticed. or at least commented. and those folks already "knew".

a large part of me held those photos close to my chest out of fear. photos have always been a tricky subject: receiving them, taking them, having one taken of me & The Kiddo. maybe its been simply my own unease and anxiety at visits, but i've always felt like i've had to ask Betty's permission to take pictures. always. would she be freaked out and horrified to know that i've posted pictures publicly? probably. we discovered when the Kiddo was born that we have mutual friends-of friends-of friends.

i've somehow learned, at least for the moment, how to put aside my fear of Betty. i mean, what can she possibly do? not send updates? cut me off? oh, that's been done already. so what do i have to lose?

so to take part in the Adoption Carnival III, regarding my "favorite" adoption photo:

it hasn't been taken yet. and if & when it is taken someday, it won't be categorized as such.

dander

2009-10-19T05:59:00.005-04:00

after i'd seen 3 advertisements on tv for The Agency in the span of 5 days, i'd had enough. i perused their site, looking for a "general comments" mailbox to send my comments on said advertising. my choices were: expectant mom, want to adopt and webmaster. after a mental game of "rock-scissors-paper", i chose the "expectant mom" email address. in retrospect, i should have probably chosen "webmaster". but isn't it all crystal clear in hindsight?

my outgoing email:

Hi _________,

there's not a "general questions/comments" email address, so i'm sending this to you. perhaps you could forward it on to the appropriate person.

i've noticed in the past several months the increasing frequency of The Agency ads on tv. as a birthmother who placed through your ________ office in 1998, i have to say that they're a little misleading and more than a little cringe-worthy. in three of the ad spots, it is stated to the viewer "keep in touch with your baby if you want". as you and i both know, there are no guarantees in open adoption. i'm sure its a great selling point to expectant moms who might be considering adoption, but "if you want" ? really? adoptive parents have the power, ultimately, about keeping in touch. they can send the updates, or they can not.

the first time i saw one of the ads, i was speechless. triggering? you bet. my husband remarked after the ad was over "you mean if they want". he was not involved in my son's adoption, but has been witness to the fallout over the past several years: the mailbox stakeout at birthday time for an update that doesn't arrive, my intense distress over what seems to be a now-closed adoption. in a time of "Juno" and "16 & Pregnant", it all seems so easy to paint a pretty picture about placing your baby.

i know, you're a business and you have to advertise. its just distressing to have it shoved in my face.

thanks for reading-

Barbara _________.

a response fell into my "in" box about 45 minutes later. this is copied and pasted, so grammatical & spelling errors are "as is".

I appreciate your email to me. I have now worked as an adoption caseworker for The Agency for the past 10 years and, indeed, the majority of our adoptive parents do keep the promises they make. If anything, the adoptive parents are disappointed when a birth parent losses contact or does not come to the summer picnic to meet up. I rarely call an adoptive parent to remind them of their promise to send pictures/letters of get together. On the times when I have called a family about sending pictures and letters, families have complied. I would be happy to facilitiate in your adoption. I took the liberty of looking up your file and know that you did work with our agency. Please let me know how I can help.

my reply:

thanks for your response. this wasn't a push for you to contact my son's family. that's highly unnecessary. merely a comment on a very important and misleading piece of your advertising. i'm not the exception in this situation. i know several other birthmothers (some who placed through other agencies) where this has occurred. and yes, i've met adoptive parents that would be just as eager to hear from their child's birthparents. i'm not blaming The Agency for any open adoptions gone sour, but using "contact if you want", when the ball isn't in the birthparent's court after finalization.

thanks again.
-barb

her response:

I hear you. But, I guess, I see both sides of things here. I am an adoptive parent of _____ children, _____ of which are biological siblings, and ____ adopted from Foreign Land. My _____who are adopted in the U.S. have no contact with their birth mother and I have made numerous attempts to try. She has decided to cut us off from communication. I know it is a very emotional process. I would not contact the adoptive parents for you unless you asked. Just wanted to reply. Thanks.

hm. i've been sitting on this post for over two weeks, letting myself wander over this exchange, which took place in the span of two hours. i wasn't quite sure where to start.

my unsolicited opinion on their advertising led to ..................... hearing how the "birthmother counselor" is upset by her kids' birthmother not being in contact? are you kidding? i laughed. oh, how i laughed at the absurdity.

and then another thought popped into my head. this tv spot runs in the geographical area the Kiddo and i share. how would this commercial make him feel? or how about Betty? have they seen it? christonabike.

what did i expect? that i'd get a "omigosh you're totally right! we'll yank those ads right away!"? of course not. i'm realistic.

i've never joined any adoption causes: ethics and open records most importantly. i've always just written how it's impacting me. and speculating about the Kiddo. so i'm not sure why exactly this sticks in my craw so strongly - enough for me to write a letter in complaint. the "easy" targets are the facts that its "my" agency and that my experiences rank far below my expectations. and believe me, my expectations weren't that high.

but it's so much more than that. those words "if you want" imply so much. change the inflection on the words any which way and the implied meaning is different. and it can't ultimately be upheld. its a reality which may or may not happen. what about the many, many women i've come to know who have gone through a similar situation? you know, "normal contact" for a few years then....nothing. i am not alone in this boat.

i applaud those folks that really make it work, like Jenna & Dawn. i'm envious. and i admire them. it takes special and supportive people to actually walk the road together without a map.

even though my responses from the agency were moderately unsatisfying, i somehow still feel like i won. i had said something. i objected. i objected to having it slapped in my face.

GO ME.

friday afternoon

2009-10-03T12:09:00.003-04:00

i was lying on the bed reading when my cell phone rang. the house phone rang a few minutes prior, but our phone & answering machine are located in a storage cabinet in the kitchen, and i didn't feel like getting up and just heard the murmuring of a message recording.

when i looked at my phone, the display showed "private number". interesting and slightly mysterious. so i answered it.

"may i please speak to Barbara?"

"speaking."

"hi Barbara, this is the Ivana Know, Director of Outpatient Therapy at YourTherapyInstitute."

"mmm, hi. what can i do for you?"

"i was just calling you to ensure that you'd been contacted earlier regarding the fact that Carol is no longer with YourTherapyInstitute".

shit.

i sighed.

"no, i was not contacted. so what's next?"

Ivana chuckled. "you sound resigned"

"well, it is what is, right?"

she set me up with a new therapist, Clarice, and an appointment three weeks from now.

"while i have you on the phone, Ivana, is there anyone at YourTherapyInstitute that has experience in adoption? you know, like birthparent grief and "adoption fallout". "

"i've been reading your chart, and see that's one of your issues. while we don't have anyone here with specific experience, i think Clarice may be a good fit for you. if after a session or two, you don't think its going to work, call me personally and we'll take it from there."

we exchanged pleasantries and disconnected.

i shambled out into the living room where Chris was watching Phillies pre-game hooha. he knew something was brewing, hearing me at the calendar.

"Carol left YourTherapyInstitute".

we talked about it for awhile. i was upset. no, not quite. i was angry. royally angry. a waste of time, a waste of money. and i'll get the pleasure of starting all over again. somebody might think that it was kind of a blessing, considering that i was mulling over whether or not to switch therapists. but i hadn't decided, as my next appointment with Carol was slated for this coming Monday.

back to the drawing board.

9.25.09

2009-09-25T17:23:00.003-04:00

i've been struggling over this post for about a week. i'm sure of my forthcoming posts will have me struggling. and that's okay.

my therapist knows nothing, and i mean nothing, about adoption. at all. zippo. nada.

i'm extremely frustrated. i've spent time, for which i'm paying money, educating her about adoption. basics.

for instance, two sessions ago we came upon the subject of the Kiddo's name change.

"...and then they named him W- and i had named him Jacob...."

"can they do that? change his name?"

"---------------------------- (my immediate thought: ohmygodicantbelievethis)"

do i expect my therapist to know everything about adoption? of course not. however.

the last session we had was 90% about adoption, where previous sessions had been a whirlwind of incidents spanning my emotional lifetime. about 15 minutes in, i could already feel my jaw start to set, my back teeth pressing together in steeling myself for the next 30 minutes. it was maddening.

driving south on my way home, i starting weighing the new relationship with my therapist. Carol has been mighty helpful so far in showing me some things that i hadn't expected. even though i've been hashing and rehashing events for years, i've clearly overlooked the obvious. so for that, she's been pretty great.

but its been pretty clear pretty quickly that i'm going to have problems talking about adoption. and i need to be able to do that. i don't want to dread therapy. i need to be honest. a conundrum.

reflux

2009-09-18T06:02:00.000-04:00

when my alarm sounded at 230 this morning, i went about my usual routine. while shaking myself from sleep, i checked in on faceb**k and my feed reader, and found a great freakin' post from Claud. and while i've been at work this morning, her "#1" has been on my mind. actually, reading her post again, i find myself both nodding and near tears at all 29.

I wish I knew that relinquishing my child to adoption was not a one time event that I would recover from by the most major life altering "decision" that would alter the very course of my existence for the rest of my life.

uh, yeah.

i believed what everyone told me. that i'd get on with my life, that i'd have more kids (as if that would somehow negate my firstborn), that i'd "recover" and "bounce back" as if i'd been ill.

what i didn't know is that i'd second guess every single important decision that followed, that i'd be unsure in my own abilities, thoughts, wants and needs. that my already low self esteem, while momentarily boosted by doing "the right thing", would stay below sea level when the kool aid effects subsided. that i'd find a lifetime of self loathing, self doubt, self directed anger that manifested in a thousand different ways.

i'm not as succinct as Claudia at the moment. there's no neatly tied "wrap up" to this post. just like there's no clean and pretty ending to this adoption stuff.

bus pass

2009-09-05T14:43:00.000-04:00

one of the issues i've been struggling with, both adoption and non-adoption related, is inconsistency in relationships. i allow myself to become subjected to other people's emotional whims and needs when convenient.

sure, before The Kiddo was born, i called the shots in the adoption. i picked the couple, i set the guidelines for what occurred in the hospital. i terminated my own rights, signed away consents. so we're talking about 3 months from soup to nuts. we can round that off to a safe 5 months if you add Pennsylvania's "40 day waiting period" from the time that the TPR is signed. five months of "being in control of my son's adoption". five months.

when i hold that thought parallel to what i've been experiencing over the past five years, it's a drop in the bucket. a blip on the map of my psyche. once i actually earned the "birthmother/first mother" label by signing the TPR, what i thought/wanted ceased to matter. after the 40 days, irrevocable.

the last visit i had with the Kiddo didn't turn out so well in the end. it was humiliating, embarrassing, demoralizing and left me fairly hopeless. i've been re-playing scenes from that visit for almost three years now, trying to decipher how i could have salvaged that afternoon. and the fact of the matter is, i couldn't. as the recipient of Betty's blindsiding fury, i don't believe it was necessarily about me. not that i've had any opportunity to discern the truth of the matter. consider it all speculation.

relationships are fucking hard. even the best ones. they all require compromise, work. disappointment is imminent. throughout my life, even if i knew i hadn't done something "wrong", i'd grovel to make everything smooth and "nice". most often at the expense of my own self worth, which would chip away with each event. this happened at the end of my last visit, when pushed to my emotional limit, i cried out "you already have my son, what else do you want from me? can't we just start over?". no, there are no "do-overs". words can't be retracted, time travel isn't available.

but that was almost three years ago. i feel a bit differently. i've had to make it a bit more black & white. what's looming is the simple "are you on the bus? or off the bus?". i can't feel like the perpetually revolving door. not for myself, nor for the Kiddo. and i don't make any apologies for that. perhaps it is time to walk away from several relationships, including the Kiddo and his family. this hasn't been an easy conclusion to reach. it isn't what i wanted when i chose adoption, certainly not how i envisioned what i've come to describe as an "ongoing social experiment".

should the Kiddo want to contact me at some point, on his own terms, it will be a pleasant surprise. truth be told, i don't imagine holding my breath waiting for that day.

in the living room

2009-08-26T18:10:00.004-04:00

while sitting here watching yet another VH1 Top 100 Videos of the 1980's (because we just can't enough nostalgia at our house), another ad from The Agency was shown during commercial break, sandwiched between a Tostito's spot and a Saturn clip that made us want to go get a new vehicle. right now.

i sat riveted, waiting for the adoption spiked heel shoe to drop. it never fails me, the shoe.

the attractive young woman touting adoption closes her monologue with this: stay in touch with your baby...if you want.

i threw a flip flop at the television.

Chris rolled his eyes, still staring forward. "you mean if THEY want", he muttered.

i looked at him, laughed, and gave him a fist-bump (yes, we're known to do that in moments of our awesomeness as a couple). then i shook my head and laughed some more.

The Great Pink Elephant Analogy

2009-08-23T09:58:00.003-04:00

much like how The Great Dorito Analogy hit me like a ton of bricks, my boss tossed another one at me on Friday, while we were catching up on things. sometimes it's really great working for a small business: we're more like family. she knows about the Kiddo, about certain circumstances in my life that make living and breathing difficult. and she's eternally supportive. i'm ridiculously lucky in that regard, considering we just got through a very rough patch, and she could have made it unpleasant for me.

"i'm driving again!" i exclaimed.

she looked at me blankly, not comprehending.

"um, yeah. i haven't driven in months. guess you didn't know that, huh?"

i went on to explain that i certainly wasn't going to verbalize, at the time, the things i wasn't doing. it was one thing to know that they were watching me toboggan downhill, but to have them actually understand that i was withdrawing from life, well, that would have been TMI.

she cocked her head, shading her eyes from the sun. "its like there's a huge pink elephant in the room, and everyone sees it. you just think everything's pink, therefore normal."

well, raise my rent.

specifically when it comes to adoption, Chris is really the only person in my life who understands how difficult (and sometimes traumatic) participating in open adoption is for me. if i'm sad or grumpy, and tell him that i'm "having a crappy adoption day" (not that there are "great adoption days", mind you), he understands exactly what that means. and maybe i'll talk about it, maybe not.

but i haven't really talked it about in detail, specifics, in quite awhile. compounded with the miscarriages, the pink elephant on my life doubled, tripled, quadrupled itself without me even noticing. indeed, everything looked pink and "normal".

while the elephant hasn't diminished in size, i have a little perspective. i can see the other colors in the room.

Adoption Blogging: Old Skool Style

2009-08-15T12:30:00.001-04:00

in the hospital, they don't let you have a pen. or a full sized pencil. there are boxes of golf pencils available, but they keep a point for only about 20 minutes, which is frustrating to the "holy jebus i've got a lot to get out of my system" type of blogger/writer.

being able to write about specific events without having to worry about who might be reading it or who i might anger in the process was extremely freeing. because i don't post a lot of what i feel here because of those two very important reasons. and the reason why i "slash & burn" many of my older posts retrospectively. fear of retribution.

throughout my life, i've just wanted to make you happy. you, the reader, can apply that you to yourself or just the universal "you". the result is still the same. for instance, i wanted so desperately to be the mythical "good birth mother", which is why many of my posts are about specific incidents, altered in minuscule ways to protect the obvious, rather than specific feelings. because if i talk about anger, i might alienate some people, and i sure wouldn't want to do that, even though its my truth. i've been playing it pretty safe in many regards when it comes to blogging about my experiences with open adoption.

i haven't written consistently, journal style, since i was about 23 or so, when my writing was fueled by caffeine, lack of sleep, 2am-8am work sorting boxes for the Big Brown Shipping Co and my regular changing shift job at the MegaBookstore. but it was real, warts and all. and it was cathartic. and i may just have to start doing that again.

this could be the start of something good

2009-08-10T17:01:00.003-04:00

i had my first "real" therapy appointment today.

when i first sat down with "Carol", i told her straight away that i had put off therapy for so long because i'd been waiting for the Magic Adoption Counselor to materialize out of thin air. obviously, that's not realistic. but i let her know straight away that i was unsure about how to proceed.

we touched on the Big Issues, so she could get a general idea of where i was in my head. and i discovered, when i left, that she "got" me. she pinned and drew from me the Real Reasons why some incidents occurred the way they did, and why, possibly, some relationships are the way they are. some of her observations are things that i wrote about a few months ago. so at least i was on the right track.

all in 45 minutes.

she doesn't know much about adoption. right now, i'm okay with that. while that's one of the Big Issues, it's simply that, just one. i can see myself learning to trust Carol, being able to open up a bit. i've seen glimpses in the past 10 days of who i really am, the Barb that has gotten buried in a landslide of emotional mud. and i see that woman making more regular appearances with a lot of work and some time. we're taking it "slow". there's no hurry. i feel, for the first time in ages, that i've got all the time in the world.

8.5.09

2009-08-06T07:52:00.003-04:00

so i had my first Outpatient Therapy yesterday. it was what i expected, having done this thing in the past. an hour and a half or so of full background: personal history, family history, drug/alcohol history, major and minor details of all kinds. since i've been repeating the same items for about two weeks regularly, it came easily and without much thought. i only had to think about one question, that came early in the session: what do you want to achieve in your therapy?

even though i knew in my head, it took me a few minutes to articulate my goals. that i needed to unload & work through the major events. to come to some sort of resolution with a few of the issues. stress management.

i was upbeat, nay, almost perky throughout the Q & A. my sense of humor, both natural and a bit of a defense mechanism, ran amok in spurts. again, having been through all of these questions so often lately, i partly keeping myself entertained. i realized that i could be perceived as being "flip" or "glib", but after the fifth time of being asked in a different way if i had thoughts of harming myself or others, i leaned back in my chair, looked at the intake counselor, and said, "yes, i can contract for safety", at which point she stared at me and started to laugh. "you certainly know what you're talking about, Barbara", she mused.

when the intake was through, i waited to meet with my psychiatrist, who would be monitoring my medication. the intake counselor met with the shrink to brief her on our meeting, and i waited in the lounge area with Chris. i was feeling positive, and we muttered exchanges of immediate thoughts.

the psychiatrist ran through some of the same questions, and i was careful to maintain eye contact, to not fidget, as we discussed the medication i was presently taking, and what i had taken in the past. about 15 minutes into our meeting, she looked over her glasses at me and remarked "you're quite a savvy woman, Barbara". i have a history of this sort of thing, depression/anxiety, being treated for it. they knew this. i know the lingo, the routine. and i want to get better, so why not cut to the chase?

she ran through my bloodwork, the 6 or 7 vials that were drawn the night before i entered the Behavioral Hospital. the shrink hmmm'd and muttered over some of the results, asking me health questions and dropped a bombshell on me. that i might have another form of mental illness. might. we'd keep an eye on that, revisit the medications in a month. while she was almost breezing over that news, my stomach bottomed out. and we moved onto other topics.

we spoke briefly about adoption and she fed me, unfortunately, the lines that have kept me out of proper therapy for so long. "well, when he's 18, there IS a possibility for reunion. it happens, you know". i felt my blood pressure rise, my face turn red. i kept repeating to myself internally that neither of these women were going to be my therapist. this was simply intake. neither knew my story, just the most basic of details, patter that fell from mouth out of habit, without emotion.

when we reached the miscarriage bit, i was again irritated by the doctor's responses. the "my sister's husband's cousin's wife had X amount of miscarriages, adopted a beautiful baby and then lo and behold! she got pregnant! and she was nearing 40! it happens!". my anxiety was rising a little, i had started biting the insides of my cheeks, and the left foot that was crossed in a ladylike fashion over the right started to click softly with my flip flop. while i was paying attention to what was being said, i started my internal mantra "she's in charge of monitoring my medications, not my therapy".

i was silent on the way home. as we sat in traffic on the causeway heading onto the island, each of us smoking, classic rock playing softly on the radio, i started to get a little angry. a little agitated. the "possible" diagnosis that lingered in my head. the standard responses to both surface issues of adoption & miscarriage.

while the rest of the afternoon was a bit hairy - some tears, a little hyperventilating - Chris and i talked for hours while we watched the Phillies pummel the Rockies on tv. i was able to go to bed in a much better frame of mind. and still looking forward to therapy.

my first actual therapy appointment is on Monday afternoon.

(note: i realize that these last two posts are not in the same vein as the others, meaning not "all about adoption". please understand that my adoption issues, and what has stemmed from them, are the main reason why i'm seeking help. this is simply the first toll booth on the road to getting better. i appreciate, more than you know, your support. many of you have been reading this blog for years. so thank you, most sincerely)

Contracting for Safety

2009-08-02T13:18:00.001-04:00

i've had a rough few weeks. few months. few years. it all came to a bubbling boil around the 25th of July or so, when i suffered what is now called a Mental Health Crisis.

despite my blogging, however infrequent it is these days, and my small email discussions, i still retain my lifelong "stuffing" habits. and its been quite unhealthy. unhealthy enough to land me in the ER several times in one week and finally, voluntarily, in a Behavioral Hospital for about 6 days.

i wasn't suicidal, that's never really been my speed. but i had ceased to function, at work or at home. irrepressible tears that couldn't be stopped by family comfort, or distraction, or even medication. a small intervention was necessary, and when it occurred, i was actually relieved. i shook, and cried, and croaked out that i needed help. and the calvary arrived.

apparently my friends, family & boss had been watching me sliding steadily downhill for well over a year. different loved ones would mention periodically that i might want to talk to someone. i'm awfully stubborn. i could deal with it all on my own. i could take care of it. clearly, that wasn't the case, as those around me stood helplessly as i was evaluated by the psychiatrist at the hospital for the second time in a week.

when i met my treatment team on the Unit at the Behavioral Hospital, it was pretty routine. family history, drug/alcohol history, personal history. even though i was pretty heavily medicated, i still shook, still cried endlessly as a talked about the Kiddo, the miscarriages. i was impressed that they all said up front that they knew very little about adoption in general, and some hadn't even heard of open adoption. it was better than having them feed me some pat lines of bullshit.

when my medication was adjusted to an anti-anxiety and anti-depressant, i started to feel like myself a bit. i talked with the other patients, spoke up in the groups, talked about what i was going through, using the generalities of Grief, Loss, Stress & Guilt. very few people knew about the Kiddo, and the miscarriages. it seemed unimportant in the grand scheme, as the Unit was really just a short term weigh station for long term care or outpatient therapy, which i already had set up a few days before entering the hospital. and that i'm really looking forward to starting on Wednesday.

i've been battling the Depression & Anxiety demons since, well, forever. probably since i was a child. i was first diagnosed around 1992, and took medication for several years. and it worked. and i felt better. so i stopped. typical. i resumed it around 1999, felt better, stopped. typical.

one of the counselors took me aside after a group, reinforcing to me that i deserved better than the punishment i was handing myself daily. that i deserved a better life. my husband deserved to have a wife that was present. and somehow his words got through my thick, stubborn skull and i realized he was right.

and the Kiddo deserves better from me. for me to be healthy and happy. i don't want his last memory of me to be a puddle of tears and utterly stressed, which i imagine IS his last memory, almost 3 years ago.

as honest, emotionally and in the short stories of incidents that have occurred, as i have been on this blog, there have been many things i haven't been able to convey. real anger, real hurt. i've always felt, truly, like i deserved to hold onto these feelings, that it was my deed therefore my punishment.

i wrote almost constantly on the Unit, in a composition book, using tiny "golf pencils" that only held a sharp point for about half a page or so. it was all about adoption. i wrote about the last time i saw the Kiddo, how the visit actually went. and a few days later, i wrote him a letter, coming from a much better place. it is unfinished, i had run out of time during that session, and that's okay. i probably won't look at that writing again: there's no need.

i also discovered how much i am loved during this time. how much my friends, my family need me to be well. and that i want to get healthy. in so many ways i've been shutting out so much life, and keeping myself in this box.

i'm slowly coming out of that box. and it will take work. and it will be difficult at times. and i'm prepared for that. looking forward to it. the end result is worth it. i'm worth it. my husband is worth it. my friends and family are worth it. and the Kiddo is most certainly worth it.

Hiatus

2009-06-08T09:01:00.002-04:00

i'm taking a time out. things in my daily life have become extremely hectic - in a good way. (do i owe you an email? i know...i know...) when i've got something to say, i'll be back. thanks to everyone for tuning in.

sucker

2009-05-07T07:07:00.001-04:00

i once worked with a man whose favorite saying was "fool me once, shame on you. fool me twice, shame on me". the latter part of that statement is me all over.

despite my usually surly demeanor, i really do believe the best about people in general. second chances? yup. third? fourth? fifth? you betcha. even when it's at my own expense. and it usually is. i'm terrible at cutting people off, ending relationships, when i've legitimately been wronged enough times to warrant such action. because what if they change? what if there's a chance of reconciliation?

in recent reference to a situation like this, my husband remarked "a tiger doesn't change it's stripes". we discussed it for awhile, and he laughed and said "you are amazing. you'll take what you can get and hope for more, hope for "better". and how often does it work in your favor? when do you just say "enough already"? " the answer to that, clearly, is rarely. the outcome is generally what i call Doormat. somewhere along the way, i got the notion that my feelings, my ideas, were not nearly as necessary as yours. that i wasn't worth the effort, from my perspective or yours.

with the seemingly closed adoption (see? i can't call it closed completely, even though i haven't gotten an update in a few years - that's me, still holding out hope) i have to come to terms with the fact that i'm obviously not worth the time or trouble; that i'm a bother, a chore. and jeez, doesn't THAT feel good?

i recognize these behaviors & attitudes. if i was a trifle surly before, i'm downright cynical now - wary of kindness (because there must be a flipside), of reaching out, of initiating anything. and periodically i respond positively, but those occasions are becoming few & far between.

i want the figurative cash up front. i want the reassurance, the guarantee. and don't hit me with the platitude of "there are no guarantees in life". i'm quite aware, thanks.

bruises

2009-04-10T11:20:00.001-04:00

if you follow my other blog, you know that i had another miscarriage this week. because i was a little further along this time, it has been a little more heartbreaking and a lot more painful on all levels. two trips to the ER in between my regular visit to the OB brought a lot of repeat storytelling.

"how many pregnancies?"

"how many live births?"

"oh, your son is 11? wow, that's quite a stretch in between, isn't it?"

people don't naturally assume that you choose adoption for your firstborn, and i didn't correct the assumptions that i was parenting. there's no point in that. or is there?

at one point, during my second ER visit, after they shot me full of Dilaud!d in preparation for Pitoc!n, my mercurial nurse leaned over to me and murmured that when i got home, i should try to "keep it together" for the sake of my son. Chris was out of the room, taking a breather for a moment, and when she left i tried to process through my narcotic haze what she had said.

can i fault her? not really. what irritated me more was her almost saccharine demeanor when Chris returned, telling me that "she had been there" and that she "knew what i was going through" as she hooked up the Pitoc!n drip. i don't know about you, fellow miscarriage survivors, but hearing that while you're literally in the midst of things isn't so helpful. at least not to me.

would my care have been different if i had told them from the start that my son was adopted at birth? probably not. but i've been through this enough, telling health care providers over the years, to dread that look. being on the receiving end of that look is one of the lowest emotional lows for me.

and like the kindly nurse-vampire who extracted vial after vial of blood at the first ER visit told me, we can always "try again real soon. or adopt."

marching on

2009-03-16T12:20:00.000-04:00

i discovered a few weeks ago that Trusted Ally has left the agency. my immediate reaction was not something of which i am proud to admit: i cried. okay, let me 'fess up: i sobbed for an entire afternoon. you may think this is overreacting on my part, and i'm okay with that.

Trusted Ally was more than just my caseworker - she was my friend. or, let me clarify, she became my friend. when the immediate adoption stuff settled, we'd meet often. sometimes at the agency, talking about The Big Stuff, sometimes we'd go out to dinner and not talk about adoption at all. we'd visit each other's houses, gossip, bitch about things, order pizza. typical girlfriend stuff. she even filled a small but vital role in my first wedding. only a year or two older than me, we had several things in common.

when i moved from PA 7 years ago, our communication slowed, given the distance and the fact that our lives became really busy in separate directions. but we checked in with each other a few times a year and from my perspective, it was just like i'd seen her last week.

she used her home email for a few work things, so i shot off a typical email for this time of year. a few hours later, i received a short response stating that she was no longer with the agency, and hadn't been for awhile. she'd moved on, started a family, all of that good stuff.

i felt like my safety net had snapped.

of course i didn't expect her to stay at the agency forever. of course i knew she'd move on. i knew it had been coming for a few years now. but having that knowledge didn't soften the blow.

if she'd just been some random caseworker, some adoption counselor who was only dealing with me for the few months we spent together "professionally", i wouldn't feel this way. i highly doubt that a generic caseworker would have let me know that H had another child, so that i wouldn't find out from another source at an inopportune time. i always knew that i could call her to talk, whether it was adoption related or not. i always felt like she cared about me, and never thought of me as "a Caucasian healthy woman who produced a Caucasian healthy infant".

the loss in this, aside from having someone with an "ear to the ground", is that there is no longer anyone in my life who was there, who knew how it was for me, and what i went through. she knew the stories, had lived them with me.

maybe my expectation were off kilter. maybe i just had it all wrong. the end result, however, is that yes, i am ultimately alone in this. safety nets don't last forever. and i suppose its time for me to don my Big Girl Pants on forge ahead.

i'm just thankful that i didn't actually call the agency expecting to reach her.

02.25.09

2009-02-25T09:39:00.010-05:00

people ask me (online & in daily life) why i don't just contact The Kiddo's parents directly and ask them why i haven't gotten an update in so long. my answer to that, no matter who is asking, is generally the same: it's complicated.

it doesn't matter that i have their phone number or an email address. i almost wish i didn't. we don't have a "call & chat" type of relationship. truthfully, i can't imagine a reason why i would call them, unless they would have called me first & i was unable to get to the phone.

i feel as if i walk a very slippery slope. going through the agency for communication at this point seems passive-aggressive. i mean, we're all adults here, and have been "in this" for over a decade. the last time i asked for something "extra", perhaps 2 years ago, the request went unanswered. and with no update the following year... well, that was the last time i'll ask for a picture of the Kiddo participating in Underwater Basket Weaving. or anything else, for that matter.

"well what do you have to lose, if they've stopped sending updates?" is normally the next query.

pieces of my self, pieces of my pride. the days of being held to the whim & fancy are over. there is enough loss for everyone in this; why keep stretching it like taffy? who wins in that scenario? how much rejection/brushing off/disregard does a person need to tolerate before it sinks in that "they're just not into you"? hell, it took me a few years, even with the gentle comments made by people very close to me.

and then comes the inevitable "but what about The Kiddo?"

what about The Kiddo? he's 11. 2 years have passed since our last visit. if & when he wants communication with me, i'm ready, willing & able. and that's really all i can offer. its not as if i've lost hope, but my perceptions & opinions have shifted.

"it's complicated" is truly an understatement.

(Mc)Fearless

2009-02-22T15:17:00.003-05:00

and the hits just keep on coming. maybe this is all just an temporary case of Inflated Ego, i couldn't tell you at this point.

since i've shaken loose much of the baggage, i've been able to focus more clearly on the tasks in my day to day life, especially at work. i feel renewed, not overburdened & struggling like a pack mule trudging uphill. i feel free to get on with it. you know, life.

on The Kiddo's birthday, this past Wednesday, of course i was sad at times. i cried when i first woke up, remembering. and then i got on with it. a far cry from the past handful of years when i've been an unholy trainwreck, even in the privacy of my own home.

will i receive an update? that still remains to be seen.

so, in the meantime, let's get on with it, shall we?

the day

2009-02-18T02:27:00.002-05:00

i've always been partial to the number 11 for a variety of reasons. it's always been my "lucky number". Happy Birthday Kiddo. may "11" bring you laughter & luck.

root down pt 2

2009-02-04T05:38:00.001-05:00

partially inspired by Nicole, and my own soul searching in the past few months. all of this self loathing? this wishing like hell i could go back and change something? i've finally been able to pinpoint what might be obvious to others, but has never been clear to me.

i hated myself, my 24 year old self. truly. and not in the "oh, i hate lima beans" way. i'm talking full tilt boogie self hatred. loathing that knows no bounds, and has kept me from being a complete & present human being for the past decade. i hated her, my younger self, for utterly screwing up my life. look what she did!

this epiphany came to me around mid December, after finding an old friend from MegaBookstore on That Social Networking site. in our glee of remembering old times, we each posted pictures from the mid-nineties of our time working together. when he posted the Best Picture of Me Ever, i was stunned. after really studying that photo, i said aloud, "in 18 months, you will be a birthmother". and i remembered that girl, how much fun she was, how much she laughed, how much she loved, how generally happy she was. and then it occurred to me to love her, rather than despise her for ruining my life. i was able to focus on her good qualities, rather than a small series of mistakes that came with large consequences.

and then i was free.

i don't want to go back & change things. i've let her go, in her cute outfits, her innocence. she's still part of who i am, but i don't need to be her, or attempt to fix a situation that is irreparable without time travel.

this constant battle with myself for the past ten years has sapped me more than i've realized of my good qualities, of being present & open-hearted right now. i just needed to get to this place in my own time, persevering through my own floods with hip waders. but thanks to Nicole for unknowingly inspiring me to start writing this post last week, and for JQ3 for posting a picture that blew open the doors on healing.

ten plus one

2009-01-27T13:59:00.004-05:00

the Kiddo's birthday is next month and i've started musing. not expecting, nor anticipating, simply wondering.

i didn't get an update last year at birthday time. i staked out the mailbox until about April, waiting. i've had two sets of quick correspondence with Betty in the past 18 months or so, and no mention of an "official" update. what i really want are pictures - the ones i have are 2+ years old.

am i counting on it? not so much. one thing i've really learned in the past 4 years or so is about expectations, getting one's hopes up. the emotional wreckage in the wake of disappointment is simply too much. i can't afford to keep going there.

but i'll write another letter to the Kiddo, and file it away faithfully in the box i've been keeping, should he want them someday. there will now be 11 birthday letters, 11 envelopes of legal tablet thoughts & good wishes, of questions & answers.

11 has always been my favorite number.

(Anti) Social Networking

2009-01-15T18:46:00.004-05:00

H, the birthfather, is on faceb**k. i've suspected it for awhile, but the last time i searched for him, there wasn't a profile picture. and now there is.

i haven't spoken to him in about 4 years, and it had been 3 years before that.

after pressing the "send a message" option, i sat staring dumbly at the screen. what did i have to say? do i genuinely want to become reacquainted with him? do i really want to hear about his life? "no" on both counts. i could really care less, and i have a smattering of ex-boyfriends on my "friends list", all of whom i still care for in one form or another.

what was i trying to accomplish by sending him some ridiculous, awkward (and not so sincere) message? was it going to make me feel better? or would i ultimately drive myself insane waiting for a response that wouldn't be satisfactory to me, no matter the words.

i decided not to pick at the scab. it simply screamed of inviting anger, angst & personal turmoil. after hitting "cancel", i closed the browser, then the laptop. and walked away.

me & mackaye

2009-01-06T05:13:00.002-05:00

i suppose this is a continuation of my last post.

i've been living the past decade trying to make things "right". and not by taking action to correct what's wrong in the "now", but by banging my head against emotional walls, maybe thinking that if i wish really hard, i can change the past. boy, it has been an exercise in frustration.

seems pretty common sense, right? and while yes, intellectually it IS... my emotional trolls are devious, performing magic tricks and whispering "if you just hadn't made the left hand turn onto interstate 80...". its difficult to live life in the present when you're always thinking about a single decision that changed your life from top to bottom, forever and ever, amen.

a few weeks ago, in the thick of the Holiday Season, i was at work around 3am, doing my thing, scaring the office cats with my awful singing while i packed & shipped. i sometimes think of my internet radio as a virtual higher power, giving me what i need to hear when i least expect it. so while i was up to my elbows in "gift wrap, please!", the opening strains of Fugazi's "Bad Mouth" pumped through my pc's speakers.

You can't be what you were
So you better start being
just what you are

something in me clicked. an employer told me years ago, when i fouled something up royally, that they had nothing to yell at me about, as i seemed to punish myself quite nicely. and i've been doing that for over a decade now, in trying to work myself through this.

ten years is a long time to have mental fistfights with the trolls, at the expense of my relationships with friends & family, my own growth & happiness. i thought i really deserved to be unhappy, that it was penance.

as i'm sitting here, staring down the barrel of another birthday, i'm forgiving the 23 year old in me.

Outlook

2009-01-01T09:17:00.003-05:00

i'm not optimistic by nature. you couldn't call me "perky" or even "good natured". but i've had some Grand Realizations in the past few weeks, coming to me by the most unusual messengers. and while a little perplexed at first and pushing them immediately aside because of work, i've had some time in the past week to think, to squint, to mull, to chew the insides of my lips & cheeks with Deep Thoughts.

the close of 2008 brought me some much needed clarity, and a healthy dose of personal resolve. and i'm looking at 2009 as a quiet, calm year. my self doubt and equally mighty self loathing seem to have been padlocked in a steamer trunk, unbeknownst to me.

i keep running a quote from Stranger than Fiction in my head, "Let's start from ridiculous and go from there". yes, let's go from there.

happy 2009.

12.17.08

2008-12-17T06:28:00.002-05:00

anyone playing armchair psychiatrist, who knows a few key events that occurred in my life prior to the unplanned conception of The Kiddo, could point a finger at me and say "low self esteem much?"

one of the main reasons why i chose adoption was trying to do the proverbial right thing. raised in a middle class, wasp-y environment, i tried very hard to "be a good girl and do the right thing". i mean, my mother was all for adoption, so it couldn't be wrong. right?

at 25 when the Kiddo was born, i had no real sense of self, of my capabilities. so add a little unplanned pregnancy onto an already shaky self worth/esteem base, with very little "you CAN parent - it's okay to be freaked out" support and a whole lot of "this is what you need to do" pointing toward adoption...here we are.

i remember the first few years, post-placement, thinking that i'd never have low self esteem again because for once, in the biggest event in my life, i'd made the right decision. i was The Good Girl. finally.

obviously that feeling didn't last. in hindsight, i could have parented. i could have bucked my family. i could have struggled as a single parent. women do it all the time. and thinking back on it today, i have to wonder how the people in my life at that time really saw me, those who were encouraging me to place. was i that lousy of a person? would i have been a crap mom? of course not. i used to say that The Kiddo deserved "someone better than me". and that's truly appalling to me now. i would never utter such a thing at this stage in my life.

it's never ending, the low self esteem. it merely ebbs & flows like the tide.