Welcome to the craziness that is my life!

This is my story in pieces. The good ones, the bad ones, and everything in between. It is messy and flawed...just like it's author. I am not a selfliss person...I am not an angel...I am a loud, opinionated, most of the time crazy, Mom. I write here the things I cannot discuss in my "day to day life". These views are my own, from my own journey. Adoption has changed my life forever, some for good, some not so good. If you don't agree with me, that's fine. It's not your story...it's mine. Consider it a manual on "How Not To Act/What Not To Do When You Are Pregnant and Considering Adoption". If you learn nothing else, learn to educate yourself to the long term affects on yourself, your family, and the child you chose to place.

Oh...and please, don't call me "bitter". I prefer the term "enlightened".

***DISCLAIMER-I don't speak for anyone but me...in this story or in life. It is here as an educational tool if anyone chooses to learn something. I appreciate comments always.***

P.S. Just because I don't actively blog doesn't mean I still don't LOVE comments. Yes, I still check them. I guess I would just rather hear YOUR thoughts, than share mine.

If you missed the story, start reading the "Posts of Some Significance" located directly underneath and to the right of this. That's the story in a nutshell.

Friday, June 25, 2010

If you've ever seen a car wreck...

While reading one of my favorite blogs recently, the author referred to a post called "The Car Analogy". Now normally I skip over these links and just read the post. For some reason, today, I was compelled to click the link. If you are like me, stop what you are doing, and click the link. And when you are done crying, continue reading...

I want to talk for a few moments (or 10,000 words) about my own personal car wreck. About the scene of MY accident. And all in analogy form, so if you still didn't click the link...go back and do so or else this post won't make any sense.

You all know, I jumped in front of the car and pushed Lauren into the arms of L* and M*. Before I did, I told my other children to go play quietly at the playground down the street and not worry about what Mommy was doing. And while my husband walked me to the curb, he too, chose to go over to the playground and ignore the life changing events taking place in the middle of that busy street. It was me alone...thinking that I was superman and could just stop the car in its tracks...and then go back like nothing had ever happened. I stood there screaming at the other couple to come get her, to keep her safe, to care for her when I couldn't. I told them over and over that this was their chance to do something big. To make a difference. To quit hesitating and just reach for her. I remember watching that car speeding out of control, and thinking that everything would be just fine. Lauren just had to make it to the other side of the street. Then everything would be fine, and life would go back to normal...

Guess what? The car hit me and hit me hard. I was NOT Superman. It broke my body, my soul, and my heart. It left deep scars, and aches that don't seem to go away. And because shock is such a strange thing, it took me a really long time to see that. The eight hours I spent in the hospital didn't make sense of it for me. The days, weeks, months, of crying and sobbing didn't make me see it. The irrepairable damage to my marriage of nine years didn't impact it. The first 100 hours of blogging were only the surface of what really happened. I think when I hit the street I must have hit my head, because the TRUE events of the accident didn't surface for a long time afterwards.

But when they did, the memories came HARD and they came FAST. I am quite sure that I died right there in the middle of the street, even if I did somehow make it back to the real world eventually. I watched as my husband saw the car hit me, and then come over to tell me to get up and go push our kids on the swing like nothing was wrong. He refused to see the blood spilling out onto the sidewalk. Nor the flesh that was strewn about the scene either. He shook his head, and kept saying "Get up. What's the big deal? It was you or her...you did a good thing." I remember seeing my friends drive by and slow down, watching the wreck with craned necks like it was the most amazing thing ever, and then speeding away before anyone could ask them to help. Not one of them stopped to help. NOT ONE. I remember my family thinking I was nuts for ever standing in the street in the first place, and none of them came to offer love or support. But the biggest revelation of all was in realizing that L* and M* were not there to help me...they simply were there to grab Lauren and RUN...RUN as fast and as far as they could, hiding all traces of the evidence they even knew me.

That was the hardest part. Or one of them. There are many, and they seem to grow as the days go on. I didn't expect the people I let save her would ever look at me the way they do now. I didn't think they would refuse to write, or send pictures of their miracle, or block me from Facebook, or tell me that while they were greatful for the opportunity, they had much bigger issues than I did, and that they didn't want to share their story or learn mine. I didn't think they "owed me anything", but I had hoped against all hope they wouldn't forget what happened. I can't comprehend how my husband told me over and over that jumping in front of a car wouldn't hurt, and I believed him. I cannot believe how little the entire wreck has impacted him at all. I can't grasp how my closest friend (who now has firsthand experience with this type of wreck) still hasn't said she is sorry for letting me almost bleed to death in the middle of the street.

But where there is darkness, there is also light. It is part of the natural balance of things. And I have found light in this. What I didn't realize then, that I do now, is that the scene of the accident is still surrounded by those who want to help me. And others like me. Those who SHOULD have wanted to help turned their backs. Those who don't know me at all have given me more love and support than I am worthy. They can look right at my scars without blinking, and see my missing heart but still love me. They talk to me almost daily, and listen to me as I cry, and love me when I cannot love myself. They help me to find redemption where I thought there was none.

I watched as one of them was in a similar situation, though standing on the opposite curb, and her major concern was on her birthmom. Not on the fact that she had already witnessed two accidents where the mother and child pulled away from her, not letting her help. Instead, She did everything in her power to ensure the safety of her child's first mother. She kept her concern on the woman, not the baby. She knew that she'd have her whole life ahead of her to love the child thrust into her arms, and I watched firsthand as she cradled her head, and called 911, and checked in on her, and asked how she was doing, and every other wonderful thing she could. And guess what I learned...she's not Superman either. She is a woman like me, a Mother like me. She was greatful for the love bestowed upon her, and loved her accident victim in every sense imaginable. And I truly believe she will for years to come.

When I sit back and reflect, I am always full of bittersweet emotions. I have such bitterness with everyone who should have been with me. And such sweetness for those who came to help afterwards. There are many, many days where I go back to the scene of my own accident and just lie there in the street, waiting for another car to finish what was started. If I close my eyes, I can feel the blood flowing out of me. I can feel life slipping away, and the need to stop hurting sometimes overrides the will to get up.

I replay in my head all the different things I could have done so that everyone was safe and secure. I think about all the other people that line the streets daily, and lament over why I didn't notice them before pushing Lauren into the wrong direction. I have stood in the middle of the street as a crossing guard of sorts, and tried to guide everyone involved to safety. Sometimes, others tell me that what I did was brave, and they listen to my views on how to prevent such sorrow from happening to others. And while I am thankful for that, I still find myself lying there...just waiting for impact.

Thursday, June 24, 2010

Got this in an email and wanted to share...

I Believe... That just because two people argue, It doesn't mean they don't love each other. And just because they don't argue, It doesn't mean they do love each other.
I Believe...That we don't have to change friends if we understand that friends change.
I Believe....That no matter how good a friend is, they're going to hurt you every once in a while and you must forgive them for that.
I Believe...That true friendship continues to grow, even over the longest distance.
Same goes for true love.
I Believe... That you can do something in an instant that will give you heartache for life. The same can be said for redemption.
I Believe....That it's taking me a long time to become the person I want to be.
I Believe...That you should always leave loved ones with loving words. It may be the last time you see them.
I Believe....That you can keep going long after you think you can't.
I Believe....That we are responsible for what We do, no matter how we feel.
I Believe...That either you control your attitude or it controls you.
I Believe... That heroes are the people who do what has to be done when it needs
 to be done, regardless of the consequences.
I Believe....That sometimes the people you expect to kick you when you're down will be the ones to help you get back up.
I Believe... That sometimes when I'm angry  I have the right to be angry, But that doesn't give me the right to be cruel.
I Believe....That maturity has more to do with what types of experiences you've had and what you've learned from them and less to do with how many  birthdays you've celebrated.
I Believe....That it isn't always enough, to be forgiven by others. Sometimes, you have to learn to forgive yourself.
I Believe...That no matter how bad your heart is broken the world doesn't stop for your grief.
I Believe....That our background and circumstances may have influenced who we are,
But, we are responsible for who we become.
I Believe...That you shouldn't be so eager to find out a secret. It could change your life Forever.
I Believe....Two people can look at the exact same thing and see something totally different.
I Believe...That your life can be changed in a matter of hours by people who don't even know you.
I Believe...That even when you think you have no more to give, when a friend cries out to you-you will find the strength to help.
I Believe...That credentials on the wall do not make you a credible human being.
I Believe... That the people you care about most in life are taken from you too soon.
I Believe...That you should send this to all of the people that you believe in...I just did.

Tuesday, June 15, 2010

"The injury we do and the one we suffer are not weighed in the same scales." ~Aesop, Fables

I am placing my standard disclaimer at the very beginning of this post, since I know many of you will look at this like I am crazy, but this is the friendly reminder that this is MY blog, where I come to work things out, and in no way, shape, or form should anyone take any offense to it, or worry about any of my views. If I don't write it down, I can't work through it. So here goes...

I would love to break out into a monster long post about the wickedness of my Aparents, but I am still stuck there. Shocked at my stupidity...embarrased by my own ignorance. And there are more pressing things coming...My friend is about to become a "birthmom", and another "friend" is going to become an "adoptive mom". As time goes on, and the day is getting closer, I find myself as scared, nervous, apprehensive, and excited as both of these women...simply in a different way. And while I could (or should, depending on who you ask) have minded my own business, I stuck my nose into somewhere that I am not sure I should have, and am faced with my own questions. But above all else, I wonder, "Helping, or hurting?" That is my big question right now.

I have sat quietly with a permanent fake smile on my face to most people for the last 14 months. I laugh, I joke, I tease. But inside, in the dark places that this blog only begins to touch, I am unfixably broken...for now anyways. No matter how I sugarcoat it, or try to take accountability for it, I got a raw deal in my bad decision of Aparents. My adoption has been BEYOND life changing for me. I am not "me" anymore, and I will never be again. I am left with a warmer, fuzzier version in some places, and a heartbroken, empty shell in others. I cry every day for what I was, and smile every day for what I could still be.

There ARE things I am thankful for. I have a better understanding of the blessing my own children are. I know to never enter a situation again blind, deaf, or dumb. I know NOT to take people at their word unless you really know the person. I know that you have no real way of knowing how much people care about you until you are sitting at the bottom of a deep dark well of your own creation, and sadly, I have learned that no matter how you perceive your friendships to be...sometimes the ones you think are the greatest are in fact non existant. The same goes with marriages.

But I digress....back to the point. When I was posed with this pregnancy, and asked to help, I jumped in feet first. I like being a mentor. I like being asked to guide others. I enjoy it. While before I generally lacked sympathy or empathy, I find my heart full of a new need to help people. Not that I was unloving or uncaring before, I simply never paid attention to the evils and wrongdoings of the world. So when asked about adoption, I had positive things to say. I had taken the time to educate myself as to what the options could have been, and should have been, and felt confident that I could guide someone else down the "right path" even if I had spent the last year wandering through LA LA Land. So I looked through profiles. I asked questions. I searched and searched as if finding the right combination of circumstances for her would validate that adoption wasn't a bad thing. That what happened to me was the exception, and NOT the rule. I found her child's future parents, and knew they would be different. Knew that they would be able to do all the things that mine wouldn't. What I didn't count on, was the fact that she would choose to make some of the same stupid mistakes I did.

As a manager, I am famous for saying "Lead by Example!". "Actions speak louder than words!" The problem is that my example is NOT something that should be followed. All of the education I have accquired since placement meant nothing, because all she had seen was my dillusional example. Emotional detachment from the baby I carried was one of the few coping mechanisms I had. There was no support system. My friends turned their backs. My husband acted like it wasn't happening. It made sense to me that if I never considered her my own, I wouldn't miss her as much. In watching her, and listening to her, I am slapped in the face that because of my ridiculous example, she is doing the same thing. The guilt that this is causing is indescribable. I never took pictures with the adoptive family, and they REFUSE to send me the ones the nurses took at the hospital of the three of us. There are no pictures of me holding the baby. As a matter of fact,  the five minutes I held the baby on the way to the nursery in the eight hours I spent at the hospital, caused a war with L*, the AMomma. I regret every single second I didn't hold her. I regret not knowing that I would be so disappointed in choosing not to insist on pictures and whatnot. I WISH someone would have told me differently, when I could still make a difference. And I have shared that with my soon to be birthmomma friend, hoping she would not make the same mistakes. You cannot go back in time and recapture those moments, and you cannot know how precious they are until you have forever lost them. But she will not listen. She will not hear. She will not budge. And because I am NOT her, I cannot make her. I have to respect her wishes, and watch her future regrets take place. She wants no contact afterwards, save for minimal updates, and I want to grab her and smack her in the face and scream..."DO YOU HEAR ME? DO YOU WANT TO BE WHERE I AM?" But I don't. I sit back and watch, with a heavy heart. I place my faith in the parents that were chosen, and wait for her reality to set in, and hope with my whole heart that it doesn't break her.

But again...I am off topic. "Helping, or hurting?" That's the topic of this post. Am I helping? Or am I hurting? If all goes well, she will move on with her life unscathed, and a new family will have been born. And for a few minutes, I will feel like a hero. And then I will be retired to a tiny footnote in the history of all of their lives. And if that is how it goes, then I am fine with that. But what if it doesn't?

I KNOW firsthand the sadness, sorrow, despair, worthlessness that comes in after the placement. And I know that in my friend's case, adoption was her second option. It was the best that she could do, once the time for an abortion passed. It was not what she wanted. Abortion is a thousand times easier than adoption. And it was the choice that she wanted. But once the window passed, and she could not do that, adoption became the only option as far as she was concerned. I wonder every day, if I have condemned her to a life or regret and emptiness by helping her search. Regardless of how wonderfully amazing the adoptive parents are, there are still a lot of personal demons that choosing adoption creates within a person. No matter their actions, there is still a struggle within any birthmother. I wonder if she will blame me personally on the days that her heart feels broken. I wonder if I did the right thing by showing her this crazy world of families created by love, not blood. I wonder if she will be ok. Or if she will crumble. I worry for her children, and the impact that this is causing on them. I wonder if in my quest for redemption, I will have destroyed her.

I worry too, for the new parents. I know that my friend is 100% ready to be "done and over with all this", but since I do not know the inner most recesses of her mind and soul, I wait with baited breath to make sure that this all goes through. I would break if this fell apart. I would never be able to face the new parents, knowing that I had done the legwork for a third failed placement. It would be more than I could bear. As a mother, and as a woman...I would not be able to handle it. The shame and the sorrow would eat me alive. No amount of blogging, or counseling, or boxed wine would repair the hurt that I indirectly helped cause.

Because I have never claimed to be one of the selfliss angel personas that some birthmom's take on, I will admit that I worry for me too. I have often heard adoptive parents talk about abortion as the end all of all evils. It allows a pregnant woman to do something an infertile one could never do...End life before it begins. There is anger and frustration there. In watching this whole thing unfold, I must admit that I too have anger and frustration. Where my child turned into a "grab and run" on L* and M*'s part, I am watching my friend basically toss this child into the arms of another and walk away. Ending the relationship with her childs future parents before it has even began. I can understand her feelings, but on a deep deep personal level, it hurts me to watch. There is almost a bittersweet jealousy there...She is being offered a part in the life of her child, and she is turning her back on it...at least for now. It pains me so much to see her wasting what could be such an amazing opportunity. I purposely directed her towards people who were the polar opposite of my bad choice, only to watch her not want to take advantage of the gifts they are offering. Its like telling a child not to touch something because it is hot, and then having to shake your head when they burn themselves. The saving grace in all of that, is that should she change her mind on post placement contact, I truly feel the new parents will be flexible and gracious enough to adapt with her. But it kills me to watch, none the less.

The new momma was talking casually today, and in between the jokes, and the obscenities, and the crazy chat session, the phrase, "After 72 hours, once the papers are signed, the adoption is final."  came up. I don't know why...but it was enough to rattle me senseless. I left the site in tears, and am bawling still as I write this four hours later. The finality of it all is so overwhelming. I remember my 72 hours, and they were horrible. Absolutely horrible. If you dont remember them, it can be read by clicking here. Why would I do that to her? Why would I show that to her? What if something happens and she doesn't place? How will anyone move on?

72 hours...and a lifetime is determined. The long, hard journey of "birthmotherhood" begins, and the new family starts their life. 72 hours of holding my breath....praying for the best (whatever that is)...and then it is all over.

"Helping or hurting?" Big question. No answer...

Tuesday, June 8, 2010

On a lighter note-Here's an update on my children...LOL

So I have five different posts going right now in draft form, and there are some really heavy emotions out on my table right now. They are taking a lot longer to write because so much is involved, and some of it I wasn't ready for. So I thought I would lighten the load, and try my hand at a funnier post. After talking to a great group of ladies on Adoption Voices Chat yesterday, I thought I would write this, based upon our conversation. This is my "update" of my own children, written as if I were L* and M*. The pictures are the best I could find.....LOL. Enjoy!!!

Wow. We all have been having such an amazing time as a family, and we thought that we would share it with you. The picture on the left is of Hailey. Hailey is in her swimsuit, and Hailey really likes it. I feel so special I am the one who got to buy this swimsuit for Hailey. I think about it the trip to get it with Hailey all the time. Here is Hailey again on the right. She has such a great smile. Hailey must get her smile from me.

This is Tyler, though I don't know when I took the pictures. The one on the left is of Tyler looking at Tyler in the mirror. Perry didn't clean the mirror, so you can't see Tyler very well, but you get the idea. Oh I remember when Tyler was born. Such great memories. Can't believe Tyler is nine now. The one on the right is Tyler when we took him to Disneyland. Tyler had such a great time, and then we took him to visit some friends. All of our friends were so excited at how much he's grown since they last saw him.

Last but not least is Logan. Logan is such a blessing, and we are so thankful for him every day. Logan is such a joy. Here's a picture of Logan on our couch. Here is another picture of Logan playing hide and seek at Disneyland. He too had a great time. Wish you could have all seen Logan's excitement at meeting Mickey Mouse.

I will try to sit down in the next few weeks and try to send you an update about Tyler, Hailey, and Logan. It's so hard to find the perfect time to sit and write a lengthy email about Tyler, Hailey, and Logan, so BYE for now. Until then, I am thinking of you all. Thanks again.
Lots of Love,

Saturday, June 5, 2010

"If you want to make enemies, try to change something." ~Woodrow Wilson

   In the beginning, when I was convinced that adoption would be a wonderful option of my unplanned pregnancy, I thought I wanted a closed one. Mind you, I knew nothing of adoption, save for the two hours I spent giggling at the movie Juno a year prior to getting pregnant. I didn't know the difference between open and closed. And I thought that it was actually possible to place my child with loving parents, and then move on the next day as if nothing happened. This is what I had planned in my head...A fun open pregnancy, with my chosen Aparents at every doctor's appointment, at the birth, taking her home immediately, and me going back to my life immediately after like nothing ever happened. It was not because of Juno that I thought this. It was because I thought I knew me...and I don't like to wallow or grieve. Everything is water off a duck's back. There is no use crying over spilled milk. The grass is not greener on the other side....etc. I roll with the punches.

   When I chose L* and M*, I told them all of this. In the beginning, we had talked about how afterwards I didn't want any contact. They, whom were already certified, and home studied, and classed out, agreed to this, and told me that if anything changed that all I had to do was let them know. I struggled for most of the pregnancy, convincing them that I was carrying "their" child, and trying to get them to accept that. It became a source of irritation, how guarded they were, and then I remember one day I received an email saying they had given up worrying and went and bought a crib. For them, it was easy from there. For me, however, as more time passed, the more I began to second guess my "no contact" plan. I communicated with them several dozen times regarding this, stating that "Yes. I would love pictures and updates often. Yes, I would love to hear funny parenting stories and kid adventures. Yes, I would like to know what goes on in your lives. You can call me on one of those, "Oh God, why did I choose this?" days that all mothers have. Think of me as a friend, or a twice removed aunt at the very least."

   Throughout the six months I went through pregnancy with them, I went from wanting nothing, to wanting a lot, and they agreed always. "Communication is so important, and we want what you want!"...if I had a nickel for everytime I heard that from their mouths, I'd be wealthy right now. I did make the mistake of not setting a set schedule for pictures or updates, and told them to send stuff whenever they wanted, so it didn't feel like as much of an obligation. After all, I knew they'd be busy, and with L*'s crazy habit of making lists and being overly organized for everything, I didn't think getting timely information would be that hard.


   It has been like pulling teeth. It is as if they truly only heard me say, "I don't want any contact" on that cold day in November, and that the 100's of conversations we had regarding increased contact between then and April never happened. That everything else was simply tuned out, and welcomed with a pair of smiles and two nodding heads.

 "Step into my parlor, said the Spider to the fly...."

   I recently went back through my emails from them, to document how much I have received as far as updates. You all know that the pictures I get are a joke...the baby never looking at the camera, or its far away. Not creme of the crop for sure. Nothing framable. Nothing that any of you would show your friends, or crazy distant relatives. For those of you who are parents, I want you to think of all the funny kid stories you tell to perfect strangers, and how many times a day you show off your kid pictures, and for those of you who will be parents soon...remember this post when you are telling your stories and showing your pictures. In one year and two months, this is what I can tell you about Lauren.....

4/27/09: Everything has been wonderful over here! Lauren is everything we have been dreaming of, and we are very happy!!

4/30/09: Not much new with Lauren since we last saw you three weeks ago. She is eating 4 oz at a time now, which is great! Of course she is doing a lot of pooping, peeing, crying, and sleeping. We really like the feeding and the changing because we get to spend extra time with her, and enjoy her expressions. It's so much fun (except for the crying) :) We gave her a regular bath last night for the first time (she was having the sponge baths before this). She seemed to enjoy the warm water and wasn't fussy at all.

5/16/09: At about one month we noticed Lauren's eyes staying open more often. She is eating well and is up to about 5 oz. of formula at each feeding. She has gained almost 3 pounds and grew about 3 inches in six weeks

7/24/09: Lauren is doing well. She's making new noises, starting to raise her head up when she's on her tummy, and grabbing and holding objects. We have another doctors appt. in a couple weeks. She's probably about 15 lbs. now and seems to be getting bigger every day!

10/06/09: She had her 6 month doctor visit today and is doing great! It seems like Lauren gets shots every time we go for her appointments. After a couple cries and a few hugs all is well. Although the percentiles change with each visit, Lauren always seems to be more than the 50th percentile in length, weight and head circumference. Lauren has developed quite a bit over the last month. She is making a lot of noises, sitting up, touching/grabbing everything within her reach and eating more than just her formula. So far she's eaten bananas, carrots, peas and seems to like it all. No teeth yet though. Since she's been 2 months old she's been sleeping through the night.

12/24/09: Lauren is doing well. She started clapping recently and is making many more noises. She hasn't started crawling yet but she's scooting all around on her tummy. No teeth yet either.

3/22/10: We have been thinking about you a lot lately, with Lauren approaching her 1st birthday. It's hard to believe a year has passed. It seems like just yesterday that we were going to doctors appt's with you. Rather than wait for that perfect time to put together a lengthy, detailed email, we want to just say hi. Attached is a recent photo of Lauren. She's doing great! (This one is my personal favorite...)

4/05/10: Yesterday we had a birthday party for Lauren. It was mostly family and some of our long time friends, with a few babies that Lauren has gotten to know. We got Lauren her own little birthday cake which she thoroughly enjoyed, while everybody watched and laughed.

That's it. That's the life of their child, of my child. That's all that happened in a year. And while I swore I would never do this...here is the amazing picture I got of her first birthday party....

WOW....That really made it all worth it!!! (That boys and girls is called sarcasm.) I have 100's of pictures from first birthday parties of my children, and I am pretty positive that if I had been taking these pictures, this one would have gone into the recycling bin. But that is their true level of concern with regards to my "need to know". A bunch of random, sporadic emails. Pictures that are horrible (believe me when I say this is the best of the six I have been sent). All the love I have sent their way, is reduced to this.

   I have always given them leeway, because I know I said originally that I didn't want contact. I have always accepted the blame for it. But in going through those emails, I noticed something else. Something that has changed my truth....On 31 occasions, during pregnancy and in the last year, I have said that I wanted more contact. And they have agreed. There are many more emails between us, but out of all of them, those are the only ones that provide any direct information. All the rest are filled with hospital bill discussions, and always...always the promise of "we'll sit down and send you some more updates and some pictures". But they never, never come.

   I want to know how it is, that I can tell a perfect stranger in line at walmart more about Logan in five minutes than these two people who say they think of me often, and are so thankful for the blessing of Lauren, can tell ME in 14 months?

    UGH....off to work. More to follow later........

Friday, June 4, 2010

"What you perceive, your observations, feelings, interpretations, are all your truth. Your truth is important. Yet it is not THE Truth.” ~Linda Ellinor

  My adoption journey began in October of 2008, when I finally decided that whether I liked it or not, I was pregnant with a child that I would not be able to keep. For those of you who have followed this blog since the beginning, you know that I have always tried to be honest and tell things as I see them. Most of you have applauded my writings, and for that I am grateful. Your encouragement and support have kept me going.

   You have been there for the insane story of how I handled my pregnancy by detaching myself from the reality that it was my child I was carrying. You have been there as I have cried in the blackest of sorrows when reality began to set in. You have read of my dealings with my Aparents, limited as they may be. You have read of my irritation with certain aspects of our relationship, both during pregnancy and after placement. And one theme (deluded as it may be) has always run through my posts...I love L* and M* unconditionally, despite any harm or foul they may have caused me. And until recently...THAT WAS my truth. My truth was that I had to love these people, as they are raising a child I don't know, but love more than anything. In thinking anything different, I would be admitting that when faced with the biggest decision of my life...I made the wrong choice. And while most people don't like to admit when they are wrong, I usually don't mind it. But this choice...the course of Lauren's life, and my life, and my family's life was a HUGE one. And finally, after a year and a half of it...I can and will admit...I got it wrong.

My truth has changed.

   Over the course of my next few blog posts, I am going to try and work through trying to come to terms with that bad decision. I started this blog as a type of therapy for myself, and didn't think anyone would ever read it. I cannot explain my surprise and my delight when people actually started following it, and was even more shocked at how many people told me what an impact it made. I secretly hoped for months, that L* and M* would run across it, but that has never happened, and at this point, I could care less if they ever do. The damage they have done cannot be repaired. I fully stand by my "Always on Our Best Behaviour" post, and still think that the road and the red tape adoptive parents have to go through is ridiculous. It hurts my heart, and I have dreams every night of having babies for all of them. But these next posts are just for me. For me to push through the hatred and the frustration I am sitting on. I hope that I maintain my current readers, despite the fact that I will have plenty to say about my rotten adoptive parents. I will simply ask that you all know that I know 99% of people are not like them. And I don't want any "Sorry that happened to you", because I hold a lot of accountability for what has occurred in the breakdown of our triad. I will not go one more day though, holding ALL accountability for it. Some of the things these guys have done are appalling, and horrible. They do not deserve the blessing they were given, and I am so sad to have wasted such a precious gift on someone who cannot appreciate it.

More to follow...

Wednesday, June 2, 2010

If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all...

So I haven't written anything very personal in awhile, and there are reasons. I have plenty more to tell, to work through, to vent about...but I am stuck at a pretty major crossroads in my adoption relationship...both in life, and with this blog.

For a month or so, I have hidden behind the safety of Formspring.me questions...only answering what it is that other people wanted to know. They are safe, because for every question there is an answer. I am able to think, and reflect, and then provide my opinion. No harm, no foul.

But recently, someone asked, "What is your biggest fear in life?" I have been staring at that question, knowing that it would be very easy to answer something silly like, "Getting attacked by angry bees" since I am so deathly allergic. But that's not it. I know my biggest fear, and it revolves around who and what I am now that adoption has changed my course in life. I don't quite know if I like who that is, and I am not ready to talk about her.

And there is another problem. As more and more time passes, and I begin to really look at what happened before, during, and after my actual adoption, I am finding that not all that glitters is gold. That perhaps decisions were made for the wrong reasons. That those whom I thought I loved, I don't. That those whom I should have been able to trust with my life (or at least the physical embodiment of my heart) I cannot stand.

I can say honestly, that for now anyways...I am not sad. I am not angry. I am not defensive. I am in a quiet calm of sorts, but there is a deep, rumbling hatred growing of my child's adoptive mother growing inside of me that I am afraid of. Afraid to really explore. Afraid to write down.

It seems like a bridge that once crossed, cannot be undone. And I am afraid of what is on the other side.