Support is Key for Mothers In Adoption

I was quite fortunate in my adoptions, I will admit that. My story is different from any other I have read, and I am reminded often that I had great people around me to support in my choices. I am not talking about professionals helping me, but rather everyday people I knew and saw frequently who would either purposely or inadvertently give me that little something to keep pushing myself to heal. And in that support system I had a goliath advantage over everything and everyone else: my mother.

I grew up living alone with my mother from the age of three due to my parents divorce and my father’s moving out of state. She was a very strong woman whom had the heart of a lion coupled with the tenacity of a bull and charm so sweet you would never even know that she might be telling you off. She was raised by hard working Midwesterners who felt family values and morals were just as important to teach children as reading, writing and arithmetic. My mother had sass to spare, yet could make you feel that you were the only person on Earth in the way she listened to another’s woes. Admired, loved and always prepared with an impeccable sense of humor my mother was a force of life that people were drawn to.

So telling her I was pregnant was not something I thought twice about. I have heard other birth mothers tell of how frightened they were to tell their mothers they were pregnant, but for me it was not that way. Of course I was nervous when I came to sit with her that evening, wondering just what would lie ahead after I told her the situation. Who wouldn’t be nervous? And I did take a deep breath when I worked up the courage to utter the words “Mom, I’m pregnant”, feeling like the entire moment was happening in super slow motion. But I was never scared of what she would say or how she would react. I was coming to her as a daughter who needed a mother’s ear to work through a difficult situation that would not only affect me … but affect my entire family.

“Well, what are we going to do?”

Those were the words she responded with: "Well, what are we going to do?" Not what are you going to do. Not what am I going to do. But rather what are we, meaning the two of us, going to do. In that one sentence I could feel the weight lift a little, and my heart found calm in her loving verbal embrace. A smile was all I could repay her with, as I still had to vocalize what my thoughts were on adoption and the options I wanted to look into as soon as I possibly could. From the moment she found out, she was nothing but accepting of the situation and my feelings. I cannot fathom what might have been going through her head, probably a million things and a million reasons why a break down would have been acceptable at that moment. Stoic and strong, she listened and talked with me long into the night to help me figure out what was the next step, what would the future be like (both adoption and raising the child) and how I was going to live life without my child if that is what I chose.

She was a rock that I could anchor anytime I needed to be grounded. Neither of us could have known that we would go through adoption twice, and I am sure that neither of us could have known how much these events would enrich our relationship. I relied on her for strength, and she relied on me for inspiration which culminated into a bond much more than the normal mother/daughter relationship. There is no word in the English Dictionary that can begin to describe our relationship, nor would I ever want to find one that would try. In life there are moments that need no words, but rely heavily on actions to demonstrate how one person loves another. That was my mother. Her actions spoke more than words ever could.

She was my first love, my first friend, my first teacher, my first confidant and the first Hero I ever admired. In her constant support and encouragement I persevered through the tough times and learned from her the grace I needed to live life as I am… no excuses to anyone and accepting of what life throws my way. The lessons I learned from her have lived on long after she left this Earth and that is a true testament to her rich, kind loving soul. She lives on in me, and I can only hope to be as amazing as she was in her life.

Today she would have been 67 years old, and I bet she would have been a FIESTY Golden Girl! Happy Birthday Mom, and thank you for continuing to watch out for me and guide me through my days....may heaven have a GRAND party for you today. I love and miss you!

Birth Mother's Day ... Differing Views

Adoption Author, Lori Holden

I love my contacts in adoption! Long ago, when I first started out online as a blogger I met a fantastic advocate whom I have come to admire. She is one of Parenting Magazines Top Ten Must Read Moms, and she deserves the honor. Her name is Lori Holden and she has a way with words.

She emailed me to let me know that she was gracious enough to quote me in an guest post she did for Disney Baby, and this is one of the reasons why I love her! She files all the adoption writers she knows in her head and can remember our words with accuracy ... and then is kind enough to share our thoughts with the world.

Thank you Lori for being a friend not just to me, but to all you know. I always appreciate when you spread more opinions in the hopes to help so many out there!

Please read on to introduce yourself to Lori if you do not already know her ....
Celebrating Birth Mothers Day: An Interview with Adoption Author Lori Holden

Lori Holden, Author of The Open-Hearted Way to Open Adoption: Helping Your Child Grow Up Whole 

A Rose to Remember

Hello Weekend, and Happy Saturday!

This is one of my older posts on Happy Thoughts, a series of writings that share the positive stories I have about my adoptions. It is about what that moment meant to me, the moment I gave birth to someone else's family ....

Happy Thoughts 3 ~ A Rose is a Rose

Adoption Advocation, Life Heritage and Ghost Stories ... OH MY!

I found this in the archives and it made me smile. Earlier this week, I asked on my Facebook page what people's thoughts were about birthdays in adoption. I had some great responses, insights and stories from all sides of the triad.

This, I think, is my favorite writting about a birthday (my daughter's 16th Birthday to be exact). I wrote this several years ago, and the irony, circumstances and eventual discovery are quite a journey. Take some time for a good ghost story, with a happy ending!

Adoption Advocation, and Life Heritage and Ghost Stories ... OH MY!

I am going to incorporate positive avocation for adoption, passing on of one's heritage in adoption, and a ghost story all into one post. Inspired by Halloween perhaps, pull up a chair and let me tell you a little story. (Technically this should be a Happy Thought ... but I liked the title by itself so know that this is going to be incredibly positive!)

Have you lost a loved one? Felt some kind of force in your life that makes you think that they could still be there, watching over you? Making sure that you follow through with important things in life? Or just to let you know that they have your back, will be your guardian angel for as long as you walk the Earth? I have one. She lets me know quite frequently that she is here, right beside me as she has always been ... for as long as I can remember.

My biggest supporter in my decision to choose adoption for my children was my mother. She told me time and time again how proud she was of me to put my children before myself. She always told me that I was a much stronger person than she could ever be. She smiled when she spoke of her grandchildren, and that smile grew wider when she explained to people that I was her hero. (Still makes me blush just to write it. If anything, she was my hero my entire life!) She always talked about how one day, she just knew that we would all be together somewhere laughing and enjoying each other. Mom talked of traditions that she wanted to pass along to them in the hopes that she could include them in her life, her family history ... their family history.

One such item was my Sweet 16 Corsage. It was the corsage that my mom received on her 16th birthday and my grandmother had it preserved so that she could give it to me when I turned 16. It was a very sentimental thing, and my mother had mentioned on several occasions that she could not wait to give that corsage to Bella when she was old enough. No matter how things were going in our life in adoption, she always reassured me that it would happen ... I would know them and be a part of their life. She did not know her life would end far sooner than she had wanted, or predicted.

While in the hospital and clearly near the end of her life, we spent a quite morning talking about things. Mom was resting between subjects when suddenly she opened her eyes and said ... "You have to promise me that you will give Bella the corsage. That corsage was pinned on me by my mother, and I pinned it on you, and it should be pinned on her when she turns 16. You have to make sure that your corsage goes to her ... it should be hers. I want her to have it, do you know how important that is to me?" I knew. "Yes, I will make sure she gets it." "I am serious Kelsey, you have to promise me!" She had some fight in her, she was making her point. It was almost a last testament for her, because after that she never mentioned another family member for the rest of the time I was with her.

Years later, when the time came around for Bella's 15th birthday I started to think about that corsage. I still had many boxes from my mother's in my garage so I spent the better part of six months sorting through old memories, photo albums and mementos of my mothers life. I found some wonderful things I had forgotten about, but no corsage. I thought back. I had seen it the year before, I found it in a box and brought it into the house because I knew I would be looking for it soon. But where did I put it? Started cleaning and putting things away in the house. Another 2 and a half months went by and although my house was clean and very organized, I still could not find the corsage. Her 16th was getting close and I was starting to panic about that wish, those last words murmured from my mothers lips: "I am serious Kelsey, you have to promise me!" I wrote a desperate message to Bella's mom asking her if I had sent the corsage to her in advance. She responded no and asked what it was. After explaining the story to her, the significance to my mother, the significance to me ... well she was devastated that I could not find it. 6 weeks to go before the birthday and I was loosing my mind.

I was sleeping one night a month or so later and I had a dream. I was decorating for Halloween in the front yard and thinking about the corsage. As I spread the spider webs, I heard a familiar voice say ... "You want some help doing that?" It was my mother, walking across the front yard. She smiled. It was good to see her. "That would be great", I responded. We finished up the decorating and admired the work we had done. She told me she had to go, she had things to do but thanked me for letting her help with the Halloween festivities. It was always one of her favorite holidays is what she said, but I knew that. Then just before she left she said, "What you are looking for ... you might want to check the kitchen again." And she smiled, then walked down the street.

When I woke up, I had no recollection of the dream. I had overslept and was in a panic to get lunch made, dress the boys and get them off to school on time. It was a hectic morning to say the least, and I really did not think about my dream. Long about noon, I had a moment to sit quietly and it was then that I remembered seeing her again, spending time with her again, hearing her voice again.

Her voice. I remembered what she said about finding what I was looking for in the kitchen. I wasted no time, I looked everywhere for that blue box. I looked in every single cabinet. I looked in every nook and cranny of that kitchen and never once saw a blue box. Nice, I am completely crazy is what I was thinking to myself. I was also crushed that I was not going to find the corsage to give to my daughter on her 16th birthday. My heart sank and I leaned on the counter next to the fridge, sulking in my failure to keep my promise to my own mother. I lifted my head in disgust and was just about to tell myself off when I noticed something in the corner, tucked away. It was a candy holder that I bought at Hallmark (my mother's Mecca!) years back that looked like a witch's spell book, you know like an old thick book on a book shelf...really creepy and deep ... and it held Halloween candy and talked to you when you opened it. I picked it up, laid it down on the counter and took a deep breath.

I opened the cover to hear "Happy Halloween!" in a creepy witch voice followed with cackling and there, laying inside alone, was the blue box that I had so desperately been searching for. I was shaking. I reached in and picked it up, knowing what it was that I had found. I opened it and with one look inside a flood of memories came over me...tears began to flow and I cried uncontrollably. I was a little freaked out. I mean, I certainly do not remember putting that corsage in that box. I really don't think I did. It was not Halloween time when I was looking for it, yet there it was in the kitchen just like she said it would be. I felt like I was in a huge CLUE game
... in the kitchen, with the corsage in the Witches book.
I was really freaked out when I realized that I had exactly two days to send it to Bella! I Fed Exed it off with a card and letter explaining the meaning behind the vintage Sweet 16 Corsage. It made it there, and her mom pinned it on her on her 16th birthday. She thought it was pretty cool that she now had something that was presented three generations ago in her family. I knew she would like it, and deep down I knew that my mother helped me find that thing~!

The moral of the story? Open adoption allows a birth family to pass on traditions to their flesh and blood. To me, that is pretty awesome and inspiring. Sure adoption can have its faults, sure it can be something that many do not understand. But for those that are involved with it, a story like this can inspire some to be more open to their birth families. Just as in my case, it only enhances the child's life to know where, and who they come from. Another moral...always pay attention to those little signs that others are around to help you out in life...no matter HOW freaky they are!

Photo courtesy of etsy.com.

Until I Am Strong Enough To Carry On

When I was in my late twenties I sustained a work injury that really messed my back up to point that I limped for several years, endured physical therapy, was sent to learn a new trade because I would no longer be able to perform my old job .... Blah, blah, blah,

Long story short, eventually my back healed but from time to time I would move the wrong way or hike too long and just like that, it was back. That same nagging pain. I could mask it with medicine, but nothing helped more than stretching, walking and working out the pain until I was strong enough to carry on.

I feel the same way about adoption. Having been through it for the last 20+ years as a mother, I will admit that, no ... It has not been easy. I sustained an injury to my heart. That is a wound that of course is deep, but to add to it the fact that it was self inflicted made it much harder for me to wrap my head around. I had a really rough go in the beginning, totally devastated and could feel my heart hardening. Then time and love from friends and family helped heal, helped remind me that I am who I am. (If that makes sense).

And one day, I would hear something ... See something ... Smell something that would cut again, just as if I twisted my spine the wrong way, and I would have to go back to square one. However, after some years I learned that each time there was something new to be learned. Perhaps I cry at my son's ceremonies because I am reminded of all I missed with my adopted children? Perhaps my funk during spring is because orange blossoms remind me of the walks I would take while pregnant?

When that happens, when I make the connection, I try to revisit the scene if possible ... face it, take a deep breath and turn that memory back into a smile. Make it do what it used to do, before the loss. I do not do this because I want to forget the loss, that will never happen. Rather I am trying to replace the loss with the beautiful moments I experienced. The moments I want to keep with me, sacred, only important to me for my own reasons. And as with the back injury, I stretch my mind ... walk the memories and work through the pain until I am strong enough to carry on.