It worked out reasonably well until it all fell apart. I am not going to name names but our constant adoptive moms from Anti-Adoption Insights ended up getting fed up with feeling defensive about their positions.In anger, they created Evil Adopters Haven on MSN to kind of mock the attitudes of the hard core anti-adoption folks on Anti-Adoption Insights. It got pretty ugly, pretty fast.
About 14 years after the loss of my son, I was still a “Happy Birthmother”. I was still under the belief that adoption was a great option, my son was having a great life (though it was traditionally closed..so what did I really know), and it was all my supreme choice that cause the typical “no regrets”.
I dream big. But I want change dammit!! I want change bad enough to DO something about it. It’s great to talk to people and I know that I have helped some, but talking a woman or two a year into being a mom is sometimes just not enough. So many are still lost and it breaks my heart. Sometimes I just can’t even go there.
I have come, over time, to embrace the one real meaning of my name. I am broken. I am disabled. I am different and injured. And while the obvious and usually most predominant reason for thus is because I am a mother who lost her first child to adoption, loss and being broken has been a constant theme in my whole life.
The tension and disappointment from that begins to coil around me like a spring. The longer the time frame, the tighter I am wound.
And it is just not any fun. Rye had a cold and thankfully, it was not that bad for him. I am selfish and do not say thankfully for his benefit, but for mine, as he becomes the most miserable man child on the face of the earth when he is sick. The cold made it was though to both Garin and Tristan and myself. Garin did OK and Tristan…
Pudding, the dead kitten, is still on the front porch, frozen, in a box. I don’t know what we are going to do with him. I don’t think we can bury him as the ground is already frozen.
Rye just walked though the door with another kitten!! The man is out of control. This guy is all black, but still as a faint tiger stripe somehow. Feels more like Puddie, but still tense and unsure. Puddie was soooo relaxed. Bout the same sleek, long kitten feel. Huge golden eyes. Aparently, this one has been man-handled by kids every day of his life. But he was not fond of…
Adoption made me welcome in constant sorrow. Once welcomed, there is no turning it away like some unwanted guest who stays too long. I had wanted to live my life, but instead I gave it away and the loss of my son cut though my life like a bright red marker carving a path for me to follow.
My Cat Got Hit by a Car. PuddingHead got taken on the road this afternoon. We lost him. It was snowy today..and I guess with him being all white.
Adoption as a Solution to Crisis Pregnancy The following is a collection of post recounting my experience as a teenage mother and how I found myself in the situation where I placed my infant son for adoption. It is wholly based on my current memories and my writings of that time of my pregnancy and relinquishment, and while I might be off on some things due to memory lapse, it…