Sometimes adoption just confuses me. Not in the regular old sense like “how does all this corruption continue and why won’t so many people bother to see the so logical truth” or “how exploitive and sleazy will agencies have to get before moms see through their tricks?”, but in the tradition of the Talking Heads: Well how did I get here? The fact remains that the relinquishment of my son…
This will not make sense unless you begin here: Becoming a Birthmother Chapter1 Now I had a great secret in my life. It was beyond exciting. Ah, yes…I had him. The real games began. The pattern of our affair began to emerge. By day, I was the ever eager little worker bee. Now, even more desperate, to please my mighty employer. Working late took on new meaning. I would manage…
This will not make sense unless you begin here: Becoming a Birthmother Chapter1 **** We left the office separately. There was no need to tell me that I was not to announce our upcoming escapade to anyone. When he was ready, he said good night like always and I quickly followed him down to the lobby. He was waiting for me out on the street where we hailed a cab…
A few weeks ago, my dear friend Lena hit me up on Facebook with a question: “I was going through some stuff and found some old letters you wrote while you were in Boston. Would you like to have them?” Of course, the answer was yes, because as much as I lived through being 19, pregnant, away from home, alone and about to have my first child and relinquish him for…
I recommend reading “How to become a Birthmother Chapter 1” first **** There was a second lunch. It rode on the innocent coat tails of the first. You know, “That was nice. Let’s do it again” I am a sucker for great food. Growing up, my Uncle Mike would think nothing of spending eighty or ninety dollars at the specialty Italian deli on imported prosciutto and buffalo mozzarella that we…
Some people have read this already, some have not. It’s the whole damn thing.. how I came to be a birthmother. How I ended up in that place where I was open to adopiton to save me from this situration I got myself in. This is the story of getting myself in it. Oddly enough, 22 years ago today….just occuring to me now….so this is me… 22 years and about…
Once upon a time, I had a life and adoption, while affecting my life and all, was really not part of it. The kool aide was still in my system and I was sleeping in Egypt. I understand it. I functioned and did what I had to do. It’s survival for many birth mothers. Then, about 8 years ago, cable Internet was introduced to my house and the first thing…
I find motherhood to be very repetitious. As in; you repeat the same things over and over again: Did you brush your teeth? Say thank you. Don’t touch that. Close the door. I know you know exactly what I mean. Our ongoing “issues” with Garin were fairly repetitive as well. The same things that caused problems years ago, were still bones of contention. Nothing got solved, it just morphed. Like…
Hey all..if there is anyone even checking in anymore to read this… I think that I am ready to return, not that I actually ever really left. I mean, that’s the one thing that we should know now about this thing that is named ADOPTION…no matter how hard one might try, you can’t really get away. I tried. I honestly really tried. But it’s like a cancer; you get this…
The post the other day about my broken humerus was a preamble of sorts. I wanted to talk about my arm, but you need to know the situation first. *** It’s almost Mother’s Day, I am PMSing, it’s raining, I just turned 40, and my arm is still busted. Oh, and it really bothered me to figure out that the quantity of time that I have spent with my own…
So at 3 o’clock every afternoon, I walk down Wall Street to go pick up the kids from school. Today, being Wednesday, Scarlett gets dropped off at 4:20ish after Brownies, so I was looking forward to some quiet walking time with Tristan. Tristan is in Kindergarten, so his teacher brings the kids for release up to the audorium. Each of the three kindergarden classes have their own door and as…
Quite a few years ago, I gave up on NOT sleeping with the TV on all night. I use to make a huge point of taking the “I-have-no-function-but-for-the-sleep-timer” controller, and using the sleep timer, since Rye HAD to have the TV on to sleep, but I hated to wake up at 3 am to an infomercial. Eventually, I lost both the battle, the clicker and lost the light sleeping that…
I love the Holiday Season! OK, if Rye saw that I just typed this out he would be mocking me because going in to Christmas, I am a wreck. But now that it is over….whew.. gald it’s over! But what I do adore, is that it makes a certain son of mine crawl out of the woodwork! Yeah..got a call from the Max! Which was really funny as I had…
In the midst of the conversation, we touched upon that just bad feeling that we both have, that we in a certain way, did this to ourselves. Though she was up here at the time, and I on LI and in NYC, being the same age, getting pregnant at the same time, having boys 5 days apart, it was the same time frame and the same social order that we experienced. The greatest difference is that I went the agency route and she fell in with a private lawyer/ private adoption. And as she said “I did this.. I found them”.
“So did I. I called my agency. I sent myself away”
Annual Birthmother / Adopted Child Birthday Blues Today is the last day of the “Max’s Birthday Week..let me live in the past..thank you”. Unfortunately, it is now piggybacking on real PMS and, as always, Thanksgiving blues. Coupled with Holiday Blues Thanksgiving always makes me miss my own mother really, really bad. It is not uncommon for me to be cooking the brussel sprouts or stuffing from her handwritten recipe book…