This is a bit that just spewed out in reply to to a thread on SoA regarding the use of the word “Lost” as to “my son was lost to adoption”. It is a really interesting thread..five pages currently if you need a bit of deep summer reading.Anyway..I think it can stand on it’s own here. It’s mostly to a new mom now who was commenting on how the word…
So things have been their usual nuttyness here. It was Garin’s birthday on Tuesday and I got to take him and three of his pals to Albany to go to the skatepark there. It was hot..and the place had no A/C and neither does my car. ANd I sat there for 5 hours and read “Adoption Nation”..most of it. And sweated. Tell me I am a good mom. My poor…
The kids and I did an adventure day yesterday. It seems the “must rain every day” thing has passed. That’s Ok as it was like 7 weeks of it. And I am trying to find fun, but cheap things to do with them as it is summer and I must get out of the house sometimes.. So we went to Awosting Falls yesterday… I find this place so magical. It…
For anyone who missed the show…pretty much the whole thing is on the websight as linked above. I, of course was inspired, And though a beautiful helping hand, my letter went to a senior producer and I got to drop a name, though I have editted that out for the world to see here. —————————————– I watched the show tonight though a completely different perspective than the general target audience….
This is what happens when I decide that it’s a good idea to listen to The Cure. Not new snappy Cure, but old dark, Pornography. And so on the way to work, I listen to the lyrics, and I hear the first line. And it is like being slapped in the face. Stings. I am feeling dark. The Cure is dark. This is eddited Cure lyrics, bits reapplied, songs mixed….
and I never really know what pushes me to take the next step in this journey. Sometimes I can see it…I see the next portion looming in front of me..like Stairs leading someplace that I need to get to. And I know I must do so, but I cannot. And oh, how I mull it over in my brain..play it out like a bad record, yet still frozen. I must…
I think I am kind of lost right now. I just feel…removed somehow. Maybe it is a seasonal thing? I was off the the boards, off adoption, alot last summer, but I chalked that up to Garin’s impeding surgery..but again, I feel it now. I have a sense of bordom, of restlessness. Stalemate. Come to think of it, that’s probably a direct reflection on my relationship with Max. Yes, dear…
Gas, Gatoraide and snacky crackers at gas station $38.76 Toll for Kingston Rhinecliff bridge $1 A sunny sunday afternoon, just me and my younger two, walking the fields and woods along the Hudson River at Poet’s Walk. $0 While sitting in a branch bench by an old stone bridge, Tristan points out a doe walking though the woods, watching her together, silent, awed…priceless.
Somehow I ended up with a week off from work. I didn’t really plan it that way, but it happened. It was a nice week though with Garin graduating Middle School on Tuesday and having to go out to a nice dinner with not only the kids, and Rye and my Ex-husband…aha is that what polygamy is like?? Then a work baby shower on Wednesday. Friday they weirder out the…
How Can an Adoptee Love their Birth Family? You hear this allot in regard to adoption, usually when an adoptee is faced with reunion. How can they feel this way? Their family of origin is made of strangers. They don’t know them. It is not a reunion for them..they have no memory, they have no previous contact, all it is is shared genes and one act of their life: birth….
When I left my childhood home of Long Island, I was neck deep in being a “Deadhead/Hippy/RainbowFamily” kind of girl. Yeah, I still had my goth chick roots, so always partial to blacks, but I long lost count of Dead shows I had been to, camping in the middle of nowhere with 2000 other freaks with just a hole to dig for the potty was heaven, and Guatamala meant fine…
You say “Gotcha” and my mind races back to those days;with no regard to what it might be like, was like, is like. There is no room in the word “gotcha” for me. And while I can understand the feelings of joy my son’s parents had; heck, I comforted myself with the fantasy of what it was like for them..to balance it out, to give the pain some meaning, some purpose besides myself; I like to think that they did think of me..wondered too..if I was sad and feeling alone, empty. Like I thought of them..full of joy..loving my child.
We have a bug in the house again. Scareltt had it, now it is Tristan’s turn. I am still in my PJ bottoms and a Tshirt, by his side for the every 15 minute puke runs to the toilet. Ah, you know the drill. So just quicky… If you haven’t already go check out N’s newest post. It’s a close to a perfect 10 in so many ways. Then not…
To me there is a line. It doesn’t matter to me where you are when you are above (or below even) the line. You can be the most militant abolish adoption and hate it in all forms. You can be someone just struggling though. You can think that it worked out good for you personally. You can want reform, call yourself a first mom, an birthmom if you want. You can be in CUB, be in OriginsUSA, joined the social workers guild based on your experience, speak at conferences. I can’t judge that, that is YOUR truth. WE all fit somewhere..and does it matter exactly where you are on your journey?
don’t you just want to TOUCH him???? i don’t know how you contain yourself. My dear IRL friend KT ( Hi!!!) wrote this to me in a meassge. Regarding Max, of course. And the anwser is a wholehearted YES!!!! Truthfully, I am dying to. I don’t know how I contain myself either. It will be two years in July that I have known where he is. Oh to resist the…