I have been in a bad funk while I have been waiting for my hair to grow out so I can cut it off. At least waiting for ONE of the two has come to an end.I cut off all my hair. Not sure if this a transitional color. Not sure if this is still part of the transitional stage. Not sure if I am ready to come out of my chrysalis quite yet, but trying to jump start this processes at least.
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Increasing adoption awareness does not decrease abortions. The alternative to abortion is giving birth. The alternative to adoption is actually parenting your own child. Separate events at separate times even if in the same pregnancy. It’s NOT the “Price is Right” Pregnancy Door Game. The decisions made when facing an unplanned pregnancy do not happen at once and suddenly face three doors to go through parenting, adoption or abortion.
It wasn’t fully diagnosed until he was 2, but his pediatrician heard his heart murmur soon after birth. It was hoped that it would clear up on its own as many babies have ventricular holes that do closed up, but his didn’t. So, we were referred to a pediatric cardiologist who did all the chest X-rays and EKGs and echo cardiograms. That’s how it was discovered that my oldest parented child was born with not three flaps on his aortic value, but two.
There was a good chance that the adoption might have just gone through if not for a pesky Family Court Judge who noticed the missing ICPC application from the state of Oklahoma and refused to finalize the adoption! Zionks!
It’s not a easy story. It’s not a happy story, but it is not a horrible story either. It is a real story and most of all; it is Jung’s story and it is his truth. While drawn though a child’s eye, he does not cast a child’s feelings on it and gloss over or seem to exaggerates, but rather the same truthful light of recollection is shown on all. He shows the faults and failings of his whole family and himself. It is not a pity party; it is not a movie of blame. The good as well as the bad is reveled. It is a glimpse inside the emotions of moving through.
It’s not an example, not a snarky joke, but a real email exchange. I know, I know.. I should leave well enough alone, but sometimes it is like picking a scab. You know it is gross and it’s gonna hurt, but I. Just. Can’t Stop. Lord help me if this one ever gets his hands on a child. I guess this is what adoption has come to in this country.
I opened my email box this morning to receive this note from Marcie Cheney, whom, until she found it necessary to email me, I had no idea who she was at all.She shared her generous critique of how I am ineffective, a liability, preaching to the choir and damaging. Oh, and the standard implication that I have to learn to deal with my “stages of grief.” I love getting unsolicited advice from unknown people even if it does feel like beating a dead horse.