Be Grateful! Yeah Right...

I don't think there isn't a searching or reunited adoptee out there who hasn't been told at some point or another that they should be grateful for what they have.  I hate that word.  Grateful for what?  Having two parents who decided that they didn't want to raise me?  Or having two parents who chose to raise me?  It was their decision, not mine.  Had they not raised me, someone else would have.  Should I be grateful they were good parents?  Shouldn't everyone be grateful for that?  I didn't have a choice in the matter.  I didn't pick them.  I had no say.  Just like a person raised by their biological parents had no say in the matter of being born.  It just doesn't work that way.  If I should be grateful, then so should they.  But somehow I doubt that someone who was not adopted who didn't have a horribly traumatic childhood would be told to be grateful at any point.  Because why should they be?

I consider myself to be lucky to have ended up with the family that I did.  I love them very much and I am glad that if I had to be adopted, that I was adopted by them.  But I am not grateful for being adopted.  I'm grateful to my parents for putting a roof over my head after I graduated from college so that I could put that money towards my loans (and at the end of the year towards a down-payment on a condo).  They didn't have to do that for me.  My adoption had nothing to do with it.  They would have done that for me if I was their biological daughter.  And I would have been grateful all the same.  See the difference?  It's a nuance that not everyone picks up on, but it's there.  But nothing changes the fact that I will never be grateful for being born and ending up with the family I was placed with.  Those things just happened.  That's just how it goes.

Regardless of adoption, I don't think that children should have to be grateful to their parents for bringing them into this world.  Here's my reasoning.  Most people have children because they want them.  There are people out there who do not want children (my first parents fell into that category when I was born).  Some of those children are adopted, some are raised poorly, and others are raised well.  But for the majority of people, their parents wanted to have children.  I know that out of all my cousins (who are all biologically related), only one of them (that I know of) wasn't planned on and that cousin isn't loved any differently than anybody else.  A few may have been one too many than originally planned on (there are two sets of twins), but my aunts and uncles were all trying to have kids, with the exception of one, possibly two.  So what that means is that they weren't brought into the world because it was what was best for them.  After all, until they were born they didn't really exist anyway (you can replace born with whatever you feel appropriate; I just don't feel like getting into those semantics here).  So should they feel grateful that their parents wanted children?  I don't think that's a fair thing to say.

I also think that for any child who was intentionally added to a family, either through birth or adoption, the stakes are higher.  The parents made a decision to add to their family.  They knew that would mean putting a roof over their child's head.  They knew it would mean feeding and clothing them.  They knew it would mean teaching them right from wrong and everything in between.  They knew it would be a huge responsibility.  So I don't think they should get to whine and complain about it later.  I don't think that they should get to tell their children "After all I've done for you..."  It's just not fair.

I'm not talking about being disrespectful to your parents.  And I'm not talking about not being thankful for what you have if you have a good situation.  I'm all for that.  But that's up to the person.  I can feel thankful but I would never tell someone else that they have to feel that way too.  It's just not how it all works.  So I don't think that any parent should be able to tell their children that they should be grateful for how they were raised.  Especially their adult children.  I just don't think it's right.

I don't think it's fair for my friend's mother's cousin to tell me that I should be grateful for my adoptive parents.  Who they do not know.  Because that's just how adoption is.  I automatically should be grateful.  But here's the thing.  I'm not automatically grateful.  If you want me to be grateful for you, you need to work at it.  You have to do something above and beyond.  My parents did not adopt me for my sake.  They adopted because they wanted a child.  That's the simple truth.  They are fantastic people, but they are not saviors, nor have they ever expected to be treated that way.  I was the solution to their fertility issues.  And to their credit, they've never asked me to be grateful for my adoption.  Not once.  I've been told to be grateful for other things (like the annoying itchy sweaters I was given as a gift as a small child but didn't like), but never for my own adoption.  So I do not appreciate other people telling me to be grateful.  It's unwanted and I'd appreciate it if you'd stop.

And before you assume that this post is because I don't have good adoptive parents, I'm coming to see that I'm very lucky with the parents that I have.  My parents freely gave me things, without strings.  They moved to a suburban town so that my sister and I could get a good education.  They made sacrifices for us.  Later, my mother confessed that looking back, she would do things differently because the town we moved to was a tough town to grow up in at times.  The point is, my parents made a lot of choices for me and my sister and sacrificed.  They drove further to work and worked longer hours so that my sister and I could get the best start and have the best chance to make something of ourselves.  They wanted to open as many doors as they could for us.  And they never once have told me that I "owe" them for any of it.  I'm not expected to pay them back.  I'm not expected to do anything.  I've never been spoken down to because I made a decision my parents didn't like.  And I know people (adoptive and biologically related to the parents who raised them) where this is not the case.  And I'm thankful that I have a good set of parents, but please never tell me to be grateful for them without knowing anything.

I guess my point is, telling another person to be grateful is probably not the best way to make friends.  And it's probably not going to actually make them feel grateful.

Question: Adoptee's Place In Both Families

I got a great comment from Trish, a new reader on my post I'm "That" Adoptee.  I felt it warranted it's own blog post!

I just found your blog and it was interesting that the first post I read was about something that has concerned me. My little girl is 2 years old now and we are in an open adoption situation where we have visited with the birthparents and have regular contact with them, and her birthmother's extended family as well. I really want my daughter to embrace both of her families and I think that she will have some opportunities to have that "oh you look like..." experience since we have pictures (she could be her birthmother's twin at the same age) and she will have regular contact with her biological family as she grows. Is there any advice you could give me that would help us balance her life so that she grows up feeling secure about her place in both families?

For starters, I think that you're on the right track by reading adult adoptee blogs and asking questions.  Growing up, I wish my adoptive parents had done more at times to try to understand what it meant for me to be adopted.  I love my adoptive parents and think they did a great job, except for that one thing.  So coming here and asking questions gets you a big thumbs up from me!

I wish I had an open adoption.  Mine was closed, so any advice comes from my perception of how open adoption works as an adoptee from a closed system.  However, I do think that all you can really do as an adoptive parent is to make sure that your daughter feels secure in your family.

You can't control her first family and how they treat her.  You can hope that they are going to help her feel secure in their relationship.  You can encourage the relationship and be supportive of that relationship.  You can maintain your own relationship with her first family as well, even though it might be really hard.  I used to look to my parents for cues as to how I should feel about my first family.  When I was younger, they said wonderful things about them and so therefore, I felt great about my first family.  Then as I got older, outside influences started to effect that view because I was told a different story.  When I asked my adoptive parents about my first parents when I started to question things, they didn't jump in with "Oh they were wonderful people" but rather "Well, they were young and you know they probably don't want to be found".  Even though my "relationship" with my first parents was in my head, that relationship still suffered when my adoptive parents weren't encouraging a positive thought process.  Maybe my adoptive parents wanted me to be realistic about my first parents.  Who knows?  Here's the thing.  Your daughter will have a relationship with her first family.  Fantastic!  But she's going to look to you for guidance now and then.  If you show her that you have a good relationship with them, she'll know that it's OK.  Sort of like, lead by example.

That's just my take on it.  Let her feel secure about her place in your family, which is the environment that you control.  As for her first family, if you maintain a positive relationship with them and encourage (not force) her relationship with them, then I think you're doing great.  Thanks for the great question!  You really made me think!

Any other adoptees have their own answers to give?

My Heritage On Paper

Rudy and I were driving around the other day when an interesting topic came up.  We drove through this town and Rudy commented that three out of five people in the town were of Irish decent according to census data.  We laughed over what St. Patrick's Day must look like in the town.  And then I started to think.  Both of my adoptive parents are of Irish decent.  And legally, I'm their daughter.  And legally, there's no public record of me being anyone else's daughter.  So legally, I suppose I'm of Irish decent.

Only I'm not.  I'm of English decent.  And French decent.  And mostly Portuguese decent.  It took me a long time to figure out what my ancestry was.  I waited over 22 years to have my answers.  So I guess it was just a bit of a blow when I realized sitting in the car there with Rudy that just because I know my truth doesn't mean that everyone else does, legally that is.

Some of my ancestors did come from an island, just not the same island my parents.  My ancestors came from the Azores.  Yet nowhere in any census would you see me reported as Portuguese until I start filling out my own data.  How odd.  I mean, thinking about it, there is no connection anywhere to me belong to that ethnicity. I don't know this for sure because my state won't let me see my  OBC, but I'm pretty sure that I'm listed as Baby [Insert Letter Here] on my original birth certificate.  I don't think that my first father is listed, but I could be wrong about that.  So even if I did get my OBC, I don't know what information is on there or how accurate it is.  Then there's the fact that I'd have to get it unsealed and even then it's not official.  My adoption null and voided my OBC.  My new one has my adoptive name on it and my adoptive parents listed as my natural parents.  As in sharing DNA, which I don't.  There's not a single legal document out there that could stand in a court of law that ties me to my original ancestry.  I'm guessing the only thing I could do to prove where I come from is to get a DNA test.

I've been thinking about it for a while.  I still have a lot of loans to pay off.  It's a pain.  But I'm doing pretty well with them so far and I might try to pick up some side work soon.  So maybe that's something that I need to start saving for.  I think I can have the money set aside by Spring and I could take one of those tests that traces back my maternal line and links me to whatever ancestry I really am.  I may need to keep my eyes open for a special.

I'm not Irish and I have no problem stating that.  I may have an Irish last name, but that's not who I am.  That history belongs to my parents, and my parents alone.  I'm proud of my own heritage and I'm sticking to it.  I respect and value my parents' heritage, don't get me wrong.  I love Irish music, will probably hang an Irish blessing in my future home, and I have Irish jewelry up the wazoo.  Just like I will eventually learn how to make the family Italian sauce (or "gravy") and can bake some mean Italian pastries.  Lucky for me, Rudy's heritage happens to be the same as my adoptive family's heritage.  Funny how that all worked out.  As I said, I respect it and it played a big part of my childhood, but it's not who I am and I'm OK with that.  I'm just glad that now I know my own heritage and I can be thankful for that.  Even if the government has no way of knowing...

I'm "That" Adoptee - The "Hairdresser" Conversation

My Attempt at a Hairdresser Picture

Once you've been around adoption blog land for a bit, or you participate in adoption forums, or you have any conversations with anyone about adoption, you usually hear a pretty similar story.  It comes from all over.  Sometimes it comes from a person without a major adoption connection.  Other times it comes from an adoptive parent or a first parent.  It's what I like to call the "hairdresser" conversation.  You know, the one where the other person says "Well my hairdresser's cousin's friend adopted a little girl and she's happy as can be!  There's nothing wrong with adoption; you must have just had a bad experience."  Yes, people actually say things like that to adoptees.  Because one adoptee is happy, then that means that adoption is always a good thing and all adoptees should feel that way.  Or that the ones who aren't happy just came from bad situations.

But the thing is, not all adoptees like to talk about that painful part of their lives.  I don't.  I don't like to bring it up around my adoptive family if I can help it.  I have several reasons.  For starters, members of my adoptive family with the exception of my sister and I are biologically related to each other.  They know what it's like to be raised by people who they look like, act like, and share history through blood.  My mother's heritage is their heritage too.  Same with my dad's side.  They know they look like Aunt Jane on this side or that their nose comes from Uncle Fred.  To them, that's what family is.  I may not look like them, but I was raised that way.  So to them, they know how I was raised and what kind of family I have because it's their family too.  But they don't get that huge difference between us.  They don't get that I'm not Irish and Italian.  They don't get how I felt excluded when they'd talk about how they all look the same or laugh the same (they all have the exact same laugh).  I'm so happy they don't feel that way.  I wouldn't wish that feeling on anyone, let alone people I love.  So they can be supportive (and they are so supportive), but they are never going to understand.  They don't get what I went through growing up in that family.  And the biggest part is that I don't want to hurt them.  I don't want them to think that they aren't good enough for me.  I don't want them to think that they did anything wrong because they haven't.  They didn't pick this for me either (as in my extended adoptive family) but they have done everything they could to welcome me as if "born to".  They have loved me from the beginning and been there for me.  They are a great family, and they're my family.  But I have another family too, and I wanted to find out about them.  I don't want my family to have to deal with the issues and pain that I do have from this whole situation.  So I don't bring it up.

If you were to ask a family member of mine, chances are they would tell you that I'm happy with being adopted.  I have a large family and not everyone knows that I've searched and found.  So there are relatives of mine that would say that I never felt inclined to search.  They'd be wrong.  They could say the same about my adoptive sister, but they might be wrong again there too.  My parent's friends don't all know.  My parents did not broadcast it, and really, my search and reunion doesn't come up very often with them.  So if one of them told their hairdresser about me, they'd say something like "Oh, my friends adopted a little girl and she's very happy to be adopted.  She's never searched and she's an engineer now and doing very well!"  Sigh.  They don't know my inner brain, and they don't know what's going on in my personal life.  And that's OK.  But I'd be upset if I found out that I was being used in a conversation like that and completely misrepresented.

There are adoptees out there who are happy about their adoptions.  I've met a few.  And I firmly believe that it's up to them to feel however they feel about it.  But that being said, its not everyone.  And honestly?  I'd rather those people speak for themselves in a safe environment.  Being adopted is deeply personal.  It's like talking about your sex life with a random person in a very public place.  Most people don't do it.  They talk about stuff like that with people who they are very close with and in a private place.  And then there are those who blog about it.  I blog publicly but I keep things private as much as I can.

So yes, the girl who blogs about her issues and challenges and pain publicly is the same adoptee that these hairdressers are probably talking about.  You never know someone's story until you talk to that person.

How Blogging Fits Into My Life

Blogging isn't something for the weak of heart.  I'm not talking about people who blog privately for their family and friends.  It's a fantastic way to keep people updated, but it's not quite the same thing as blogging publicly when your readers probably don't know you in real life.  It's not something that you can take on without being willing to put yourself out there.  I have strangers reading about some of the most personal things about me.  And they have the all powerful choice of commenting.  And they can say whatever they want about my very personal thoughts.  I've been very lucky that my readers have been kind to me in the comments thus far.  But that doesn't mean it will always be that way...

I've had a few discussions lately about blogging and how it fits into my life.  For me, this is a blog about my life as an adopted person.  The adopted part is what I write about most frequently, but that doesn't mean that I never blog about other things in my life.  Or the people in it.  That being said, I do my best to keep things private as much as I can. I'm somewhat anonymous here and I don't use real names.  Yes, I use nicknames but unless you know me in real life, you'd have no way of knowing who those people are.  It's just a lot easier to write "Rudy" than "my boyfriend" (and so on and so forth).

As in any adoption blog, I'm going to blog about my family.  My adoption is surrounded by family.  One family gave me away and another family took me in (in one manner of speaking).  So that means that my first parents are going to be a frequent topic, you know, because they are the ones who put me up for adoption.  Just like my adoptive parents are going to be frequent topics of discussion, you know, being the ones who took me in and all.  As for the rest of my family, yes, they are going to come up.  They play a part in my adoption story.  My sister is the one who gave me the information I needed to complete my search.  My aunts have been super supportive when I've needed to talk about my adoption issues.  My first uncle and I share a profession (how random is that?), which is probably going to come up.  Otherwise, what would I write about?

I'm not just about adoption.  I have other things going on with my life.  I have a boyfriend.  I have friends.  I have a job.  All of these things may or may not come up in my blog.  I'm human.  I'm a person.  I have a life.  That's the thing about adoption.  It's always there.  It's always present.  And adoptees have to live with that each and every single day.

Rudy knows that I blog here.  He picked his own nickname.  He sometimes reads here.  I have two friends that I gave this blog address too.  One from my hometown (the only one from my hometown with the URL other than me) and one from college.  That's it.  Three people from my "real" life.  I haven't passed out the URL because I don't like the idea of writing thinking that my entire family is reading over my shoulder.  I don't think I could be as personal.  It's too intense for me to think about that.  And honestly?  I don't think I could handle having such intense conversations about adoption with my adoptive family (or my first family for that matter).  They don't know how painful my adoption has been for me, and it would hurt them to find out.  So I keep my happy adoptee face on when I'm around them, and write about my pain here.

I've been debating going private lately.  I'm still debating, but I'm airing on the side of keeping this public after I read something on Facebook last week about not letting one person ruin your day if there are almost 7 billion other people out there.  I just don't want to deal with drama.  I'll probably keep it public.  We'll see.

Thanks for reading,

Ability and Willingness

I love comments.  Like seriously.  Because sometimes, wonderful things come out of comments.  Other times not so much, but hey, it happens.  I learn a lot from comments that are left here.  Sometimes it's another adult adoptee commenting.  I love those comments because they make me feel connection to "my people".  Other times it's first mothers, and I love those comments because I've met some kick ass first mothers who offer a great perspective.  And they make me feel less crazy and like my first mother maybe isn't the majority (which would make me sad).  And sometimes, its adoptive parents, and those comments often make me think.  I've gotten some great support from some adoptive mom's (haven't had an adoptive dad yet, but who knows?) and I've gotten some great comments.

Adoptive Mom Lavender Luz left this fantastic comment that really got me thinking on my last post responding to comments:

I have often wondered about the different circumstances surrounding placement and how they might affect the child placed. Such as babyscooped, or if the mother WANTED to parent but wasn't able to for whatever reason, or if she COULD have but wouldn't. The question of ability vs willingness -- which would be more difficult to face?

Thank you for responding to Esperanza's question. Lots to think about with adoption reform and finding a home for a child rather than a child for a home.

I am so sad that your mother has never told you she loves you. How do you fill that hole. Can you?

See?  What a great comment!  One that really got me thinking.  And when I think, I blog.  So you get this nice blog post about ability vs. willingness.  Which would be more difficult to face?  Now I've only really faced one but my story isn't really cut and dry.  There was a lot going on at the time.

Here's what happened with me.  My first parents got pregnant.  My first father didn't know, went away for training.  I was born.  My first mother decided to put me up for adoption (at this point, nobody knew about me).  My first grandparents found out about me and told my first mother she could either continue with her adoption plans or she could move out.  My first father returned home and found out about me.  A week later, my parents terminated their rights and put me up for adoption.

Sounds simple right?  Well, my maternal grandparents may not have been wealthy, but they've done very well for themselves.  They were young (in their late 40's) when I was born.  They had a house, lived comfortably, and had the resources to raise another child should they wanted to.  But they didn't.  And they had no warning. They found out about me the day after I was born.

My paternal grandmother was older.  She raised several of her grandchildren.  In her family, children stay in the family.  However, she probably wouldn't have been able to take me in.  I have an aunt who was looking into adopting a child around that time.  She could have taken me in (according to my first father).  Only my first father did not want me to stay in the family because he didn't agree with the way his nieces and nephews were being raised and didn't want his kids to be raised that way.  I guess he wanted how I was raised to be completely unknown.

Also, my first parents got engaged less than a year after my birth.  Maybe that wouldn't have happened if they had kept me.  But they did stay together.  So did they have the ability?  Probably.  My maternal grandparents could have stepped up and supported their daughter.  They could have raised me.  My paternal family could have raised me as well (and probably would have wanted to had they known about me).  My first parents could have gotten an apartment together and tried to work it out.  It would have been scary and hard, but they wouldn't be the first 21-year-old's to be in that position.  I'm not saying that's the right answer, just that they may have had the ability to raise me.

However, they ultimately didn't want to.  If they wanted to, they would have asked my first father's family for help.  They were afraid their relationship wouldn't survive the struggles of having a child.  My first father didn't have a job and was debating enlisting.  My first mother already had separated herself mentally from me and saw me as someone else's child.  They chose not to parent.

That was really hard to face.  They could have kept me but they didn't.  Everything that I've written above, the fact that it wasn't black and white, did not matter to me when I first realized that.  It didn't matter to my inner child, the one who had questioned why I was given away ever since I can remember.  It didn't matter to the person who often wondered what was wrong with me as a baby for someone to give me away.  There is no easy way to take the fact that your parents did not want to raise you.  My first parents did not move mountains to try to parent me.  That honor goes to my adoptive parents who jumped through every hoop.  But for my adoptive parents, any baby would have done the job.  That wasn't personal.  For my first parents, it was.  The two do not balance each other out.

I would have preferred for the problem to have been with ability.  That's just me though.  Maybe it's a grass is always greener thing.  I'm happy that I know the truth.  I'm glad that I know why.  But it doesn't make it hurt any less.  I would rather be able to feel badly for my first mother and be able to say, "She did everything she could to keep me" rather than "She didn't want to parent me".  Again, that's just me though.

As for the last part of the comment, I don't think there is a way to completely fill that hole.  I think I will be able to more fully heal after I meet her.  I feel like I'll be able to walk away.  I feel like I'll never fully understand her, but I'll always love her.  To me, love isn't about being loved in return.  That's the beauty of it.  I can love her without being loved back.  And loving her is a huge part of my life, and it somehow makes it better.

Sometimes It's Better Not to Share

I was asked not to talk about my reunion at home.  Actually, I was asked not to talk about "those people" around my mother.  I say asked but it really wasn't like that.  I was told.  But I'm 24 years old.  Nobody tells me what to do.  And I never promised that I wouldn't.  Before I saw my first father on my birthday, I told my mother about it.  I did make a promise to her not to keep things like that from her a while back.  I plan on keeping that promise.

However, I haven't told her about anything that's happened recently.  In an odd turn of events, my sister knows more about my reunion than my mother does.  The person who was least supportive at this point knows the most.  And her least supportiveness (ha, I made up a word!) is now the most supportive that anyone is my family is being.  Go figure.

My adoptive family has no idea what has happened with my first father.  I told my mentor about it, and her reaction was enough for me.  She was very upset that it had happened (I don't blame her) and she immediately went after both of my first parents.  She was being protective of me.  I get that.  And to her, it makes complete sense for me to cut off all contact and never look back.  She doesn't think I should even consider making contact with my sisters, even ten years down the line, because they were raised by "those people" and why would I want anything to do with them?

So I'm not talking about it in real life anymore.  I'm running scared.  I'm back in the reunion closet.  Well, it's not a reunion anymore, so I'll have to come up with another name for it.  I worked so hard to get out of that closet too.  Yet back in I go.  Though I'll admit, this time to door is open a crack.  I think my new response to people is going to be that I know my biological parents and leave it at that.  They don't need to know that my only contact with them right now is holiday emails.  Two line emails (ouch).  But I do know my biological father.  I know him.  I've met him.  I've talked to him about all sorts of stuff.  So I'll fudge it a bit and make it seem like I know her too.  And I sort of do if you can know someone through email.

I'm just learning not to share.  Because honestly?  I feel like I have to defend them.  Because they are my family.  They always will be.  They are where I come from.  I love them.  They are my parents.  I have four parents, not just two.  And I love all four of them.  So when I share my story to my friends and family and they react to defend me, I get put in this super awkward position because I feel the need to defend them, but then I'm defending people who really hurt me.  Badly.  Which sucks.  So I'm just keeping things private.  And I know it will break my mother's heart.  She never wanted me to be hurt.  She was so cautious before and wanted to be there along the way with me because she had a feeling that this would happen to me.  So she doesn't need to know.  She doesn't remember to ask me about them anymore.  The Grinch won't bring them up, ever.  Or if he did, it would just be to remind me how much he doesn't want to talk about it.  And my sister, well, it's a sore spot for us so we avoid it if we can.

So I'm here.  Not talking in real life.  With the exception of a friend or two (you know who you are...).  But I am blogging.  Because that's all I can do right now.  I can't make them change their minds.  I can't give them resources because they are so private that if I explained that I knew people they could talk to they would flip out.  I can't fix this situation without completely compromising myself. And as much as I'd like to, I just can't right now.  Tomorrow will be a better day.  It has to be.

The Darker Side of Reunion

Sometimes people tend to forget that there were unintended consequences for me when I entered into reunion.  Obviously being adopted in the first place had some major consequences (my name, identity, family, friends, history, etc).  But my reunion sparked it's own set of consequences, some of which I think its easy not to think about. (Note: this is about my reunion. These are my consequences.  Not all reunions are like this)

For starters, I opened up to my family about my reunion.  It started with my parents and my sister.  My adoptive parents at first were supportive, but it's strained our relationship.  I've noticed that I've been treated differently since I told them I had found my biological family.  The Grinch felt betrayed.  My mom was hurt I hadn't included her in the search.  Both of them struggled with what my reunion meant to them, and to me.  They both worried about me, knowing the back-story that I didn't.  And my sister seemed OK at first, and then became jealous of both my sisters (just the fact that she had to share me with two people I've never met) and my reunion in general.  We went from being close to barely speaking and borderline hating each other.  She's finally starting to come around, but it's been a rough few years and I've had to get through them without my sister.

As I opened up to my extended family, they were supportive.  They still are.  But it's not something that they understand or really want to.  It's not discussed.  Things do get a bit more tense.  I do get treated a little bit differently.  And I notice.  Or maybe it's just my perception that's changed.  Maybe it isn't them, maybe it's me who treats things differently.  Either way, it's a consequence of my reunion.  While still close to my family, I feel like I'm on the outside looking in all the time, rather than just every once and a while like when I was a kid.

My reunion changed my relationship with Rudy.  Rather than being able to focus on us, I've had to spend a lot more time focusing on myself.  More time than I'd like.  While I know that it's better for us in the long run if I deal with this now, it's frustrating sometimes to spend so much time and energy on my reunion.  I've invested a lot of my life in these relationships that are still secret on their end.  And that's a lot to handle.  I'm so fortunate to have a supportive boyfriend.  And he's been amazing.  But I would still much rather spend the time I've spent on two failed reunions with my boyfriend and other friends.

There are a lot of positives too.  I don't want to discredit them.  I've met some fantastic people.  I've been inspired by the stories I've read.  I better understand myself, and I don't feel so alone.  Knowing my truth and my history has been an amazing things.  Before all this started two years ago, I had no idea where I came from.  I was ashamed of a history I didn't know.  I didn't know who I looked like.  I didn't know my own birth story.  I felt like I didn't know who I was as a person.  I've said it before and I'll say it again.  I would search and contact all over again if I had the choice knowing what I know now.  I wouldn't hesitate.

But overall, there were a lot of things that this reunion has changed in my life because I was open about it.  I took a chance in opening up about it.  I'm glad that I did, but I think that often people forget that when an adoptee opens up about a reunion to adoptive family members and others, it can be a huge challenge and things do change.  It affects a lot of different relationships and it takes a long time to process.  Adoption reunion isn't always rainbows and butterflies.  Sometimes there is a darker side of reunion that gets glossed over.

So it's something to consider.  Something to keep in mind.  Adoption doesn't just affect the adoptee, adoptive parents, and first parents.  It affects extended families, friends, and others.  It affects future spouses, and future children.  And while being open is in my honest opinion the best way to handle things, it doesn't mean that it's always a walk in the park.  For me, I cared enough about my first parents to be open about our relationship and to take the negative consequences with the positive ones.  C'est la vie.

Found Book Tour Discussion

I participated in the Found Book Tour.  I read Found by Jennifer Lauck along with other adoption bloggers and submitted several discussion questions.  I was given a list of discussion questions of which I picked three to answer here.  Others have been posting their own answers to these and other questions.  I'd love to hear what you have to say down in the comments section!

As someone who does not have living children, I felt a little dissed by the author's assertions that being a mother brings clarity that is otherwise impossible to have. Did others read this the same way? Do you agree? Disagree?

I do not have children either; however, I did not feel dissed in the least by those assertions.  I’m an adoptee who was separated from her mother immediately after birth.  My mother did not hold me.  She did not even see me.  Despite the nurses encouraging her to hold me, she refused and asked that I be taken away for fear she would change her mind about giving me up.  I know these things from her.  As an adoptee who did not know where she came from until two years ago, I can attest to feeling lost and alone.  I had a feeling like I just emerged in this world.  I was not “born” in my eyes.  I used to call myself a stork baby, someone who was just dropped on my parents’ doorstep at two months old.  I have nothing, no pictures, no stories, nothing, from the time before my life with them.  It is from this perspective that I understood that as an adoptee without children, I know nothing of that bond.  I suspect that should I have children someday, I’ll have that clarity.  I’ll understand what it is that as a baby I lost.  Do I think that having a child will change the way that I see the world?  Most defiantly.  Do I think that I can’t be a person without one?  Not at all.  Only time will tell I suppose.

Who would you suggest should read this memoir, and why?

I think that anyone connected to adoption should read this memoir.  And I don’t mean connected as in just adoptive parents, prospective adoptive parents, first parents, and adoptees.  I’m talking people who have friends who are adopted.  I’m talking about people who have nieces, nephews, grandchildren, neighbors, husbands, wives, etc. who are adopted.  I think there are a lot of misconceptions about adopted people out there, and I think this memoir challenges a lot of those misconceptions.  I also think that the author speaks with a great voice, one that should be listened to.  As a society, we accept adoption as a wonderful thing.  As a society, we tend to not listen to adult adoptees.  Their voices (my own included) are often silenced because we don’t always speak what everyone wants to hear.  Things that other people take for granted we are denied and told we cannot speak about.  We are told by people who know their biology and history that biology and history don’t matter.  People will access to their original birth certificates tells us that we shouldn’t have access to ours.  I think that memoirs like this are the key to getting others to take a step back and start listening to the voices of those who are arguably the most affected by adoption.

On pp 17-18, Jennifer talks about a baby searching for her mother after being born. How did this sensory-rich passage strike you? What thoughts did it trigger about the role you play in adoption?

I’ll admit, I cried when I read these pages and had to put the book down.  I never had that with my mother.  I was completely overwhelmed reading this and had to walk away for days before I had the courage to pick up the book again.  I could see myself as a baby looking for my mother, someone I couldn’t find and was separated from.  It broke my heart that I went through that as a child.  It made me yearn for my mother all over again.  I have yet to meet her.  Reading this just makes me want to meet her even more.  As I read this, my role was more defined for me than ever.  I was the helpless baby looking for my mother.  I was the one without a choice.  As a baby, I would have chosen my mother.  Nothing else mattered to me.  I didn’t know anything else.  I just knew her.  I knew her voice, her smell, her being.  And she was gone.  I was born and that was it.  I didn’t have a say in it.  My wants weren’t taken into consideration.  My mother could have kept me.  It would have been hard.  It would have been challenging.  But she could have made it work.  She chose not to.  It was about her.  Just like my adoptive parents adopted me for them.  It wasn’t about giving a baby a home; it was about finding a baby for their home.  My adoption wasn’t about me.  It was about everyone else.  This passage made that pretty clear to me all over again.  It helped me to realize that I do need to spend more time thinking about this and working on these issues before I have my own children.

To continue to the next leg of this book tour, please visit the main list at The Open Adoption Examiner.

Wearing Big Girl Panties

I don't always feel like a grown up.  There are several reasons for this.  It's a problem.

For starters, I live at home.  With my parents.  Who don't view me as an adult.  So it's pretty hard to feel like a grown up when your parents are telling you what to do from the moment you walk through the door after work (a big girl job too!) until you go to bed (and they tell you when that is).  Sigh.  It's not their fault.  It's a common thing that parents don't see their adult children as adults.  Especially when they are still living at home.  So I'll always be their little girl.  It just gets annoying.  That's not going to change until I move out.  Which can't happen for a least a few more months.  Oh well.  I'll get there!

Next, this whole reunion thing sent be backwards a bit.  Something about connecting with a parent.  It's hard to do so as an adult.  So it's easier to think about when I was a kid and try to relate to my first parents from that point of view.  I'm not saying I acted like a kid around them.  Not at all.  But it made me take a step back into childhood and revisit a lot of those memories.  It's hard to move forward when you're looking back.  But at the same time, I had to look back.  I just got a bit stuck there.  I'll get over it.

The majority of my friends are my own age or younger.  We're all in various stages in terms of where we're living, our states of employment, and where we are with school.  The best way for everyone to connect is to act like we're still in college at times.  Because that's the thing that we all have in common.  But it doesn't make one feel horribly grown up.  I'm having a lot of fun with them.  And I'm not going to give that up.  But still, doesn't make one feel like a mature college graduate.  And let's not forget that Rudy lives at home as well.  So even when I visit him, it's not the same as if one of us had our own apartment.

It's not a huge problem, but at this point in my life, I do feel ready for more.  I do have a big girl job.  I'm making plans to have my own big girl place.  My boyfriend and I are talking about our future together, something that might actually materialize in the next year or two.  And I'm starting to think about what it is that I want out of life.  It's time to make some big girl decisions.  I can't imagine that I graduated high school six years ago (nearly).  It's unbelievable to me.  Time flew by so fast.  So I don't want to spend the next six years or so in a state of fogginess.

The purpose of my search and reunion was so that I could feel more complete.  So that I could get my answers and live a better life.  To figure out my past so I could enjoy the present and the future.  And I learned some hard lessons.  But I'm putting my big girl panties on.  I've decided that if I want to be more grown up, I have to act that way.  And that means standing up for myself.  That means treating me the way I deserve, rather than pushing me aside and letting other people do whatever they want and walk all over me.  I'm not the same girl I was two years ago.  I'm no where close to being the same girl I was six years ago.  I realized that six years ago I let other people walk all over me and didn't do anything about it because I was scared.  Now I'm letting two people walk all over me and I'm justifying it because I think it's the "right" thing to do.  So I'm not going to justify it anymore.  I won't tolerate it.  Nobody else is going to stand up for me.  So I'm going to have to do it myself.

Apartment Hunting

I thought long and hard about how to handle my situation.  On one hand, I like living at home.  My parents have a very nice house.  I don't pay to live here.  I get to hang out with my mom a lot, and be there for her.  I get to eat yummy goodies that people drop by the house.  My car now has a space in the garage, so no shoveling snow off it come wintertime.  And my dog is here.  All valuable things to consider.

On the other hand, I offered to pay my parents the money they've (well my dad's) been requesting for rent in return for having my privacy in my room.  I was laughed at, mocked, and called crazy (and then "All the Single Ladies" was turned into "All the Crazy Ladies" for my benefit).  I finally got him to understand that it was important to me to have my own space, and he told me I wasn't allowed to speak.  That I would keep my room clean to his standards.  I explained that we had different standards and I wouldn't live like that.  Then he started to compromise.  I was told I could do whatever I wanted but he would check it once a month.  Again, told him that wasn't acceptable.  Finally he agreed that he would give me my privacy but that I'm not allowed to have food or drinks in my room.  To which I replied it's ridiculous to not allow someone water in their own room.

While it seems like progress, he did not understand what the big deal was.  Therefore, I give him two weeks before he changes his mind about the whole thing.  Plus, it's not just the privacy issue.  It's an issue of me walking through the door and being told to make dinner.  No "Hi!  How was your day?"  Just, "You're on supper duty and I'm hungry!"  Nice to see you too.  It's being yelled at for leaving my purse on the kitchen table because "only food belongs on there".  It's being criticized for picking up my phone when he called me at work.  It's being treated like an object, rather than a person.  It's being told that I need to be nicer to him because of "all he's done for me".  After all, he's put food in my mouth (I've been buying the groceries I eat), clothing me (hasn't bought me clothes since I turned 18, but apparently I need to be grateful for the other 18 years), and putting a roof over my head (he has me there).  I just don't think I can take it anymore.

I found a nice apartment.  It's safe, half way between work and home (so my commute would be easier but I could get home any time I wanted), its in my budget, and it's actually really nice.  It's not the Ritz, but it's a first apartment.  And it would be mine.  So I could leave my boots on the floor if I wanted to.  I could have a water bottle in my bedroom if I wanted to.  And I could do what I wanted to.  I'm 24.  It's time for me to move on.

I put in an application.  I have a few more questions for the rental company thanks to my first father (who was honored that I asked him for advice).  I'm still on the fence.  Things have gotten better the last few days at home.  But that doesn't mean they'll stay that way.  But I don't really love the thought of living by myself.  And I think that I'd almost rather stay home for a bit until I find an apartment that's not in a complex.  Those are harder to find, but sometimes work out a little bit better.  We'll see.

My parents don't know about the apartment yet.  I haven't told them because a) I'm not allowed to upset my mother, and b) my parents don't want me to move and therefore will do whatever it takes to keep me at home. So I need to make up my mind about moving before I talk to them.  Because I need to have an out.  I'm 24, they don't control me and I have my own life to live.

We'll see what happens.  I'm not sure.  I might not even get the apartment.  Only time will tell.  But it's guaranteed to be an interesting week.

Adoptive Family Tree

Emotionally I'm pretty washed out.  So I'm writing about something that's completely different today.  My adoptive family tree.

I don't consider it to be my family tree.  In fact, if I haven't met people on the tree, then I don't consider them to be family.  At all..  I never have, and I never will.  Even before I starting dealing with adoption issues, I've never felt connected to them.  Those people are in my parents' pasts, but not mine.  It's interesting for them, but I just find it to be a good story.

When I did my own family tree on Ancestry.com, I felt bad about leaving them out.  Classic adoptee guilt!  Nobody said anything to me, I just internalized it.  So I made one for each of my parents.  Yes, I own four trees on that website.  One's mine, one's Rudy's, one's my mom's, and one's my dad's.  For my adoptive parents, I put in what I knew and worked from there.  I didn't combine them because they don't have biological children to pass that tree onto.  But I figured I could always give it to my cousins and they'd have their tree or at least half of it should they want it.  I digress.

A few weeks ago I got an email that someone private messaged me on Ancestry.com.  Ok, I thought.  It was in regards to my a-dad's family tree.  Which is public.  Turns out this woman had a question about my great-grandmother.  My great-grandmother was a peach.  Not really.  Somehow she grew up with an aunt and uncle.  Nobody knows why that is.  She refused to tell anyone.  Nobody knew anything about her past and if they did, they aren't alive anymore.  All we knew was that she ran off with the butcher boy so her aunt and uncle wouldn't send her to finishing school, had four kids, her only baby girl died, and her husband left her.  She sent her boys off to work at a farm (my grandfather was three at the time) and eventually married the milk man.  I kid you not.  I recently learned that her uncle sent her an allowance every month of $40, which was a lot of money back then.

This person on Ancestry.com was confused because the records show her born to one family, but raised in another.  Sounds an awful lot like adoption to me just without the name change.  In fact, this person would have gotten it completely wrong had my great-grandmother's last name been changed on the records, which would have happened if she was formally adopted.  Go figure.

So I private messaged the lady back and explained that yes, she had the right person and how all those people were connected.  Never heard back.  Rude.

So now that I was back on Ancestry.com after a short break (even though I still pay for it every month), I noticed my mom's family tree had a lot of hints.  So I followed them.  And then holy crap I made a discovery, or what felt like one.  My mom has a very German maiden name.  She's mostly Irish, but the last name is German.  Turns out the name doesn't come from Germany but from Switzerland!  I called my grandfather for confirmation and turns out he knew about it all along.  I guess they just never talked about it.  My dad knew (so my mom knew too) but the younger children in the family didn't.  Because the name is famously German, nobody questioned it.  So naturally I put it up on Facebook and invited everyone to view the tree.  Because a lot of my cousins are about to get to that point where they need it for school.  I'm nothing if not helpful.

No comments thus far on the fact that I didn't list my sister and myself on the tree.  We don't belong there.  I have my own.  But it's not something that we discuss as a family.  So I'm surprised that nobody chose to comment.  I'm also pretty sure some of my cousins have no clue my sister and I are adopted.  So I could see them scratching their heads.

It's a fun hobby.  And I have a few more hints, and I was recently emailed about for Rudy's family tree.  So I have some more fun research ahead of me.  I love this stuff!

Life Is Like A River

Things are a little dark

I'm really hoping this week goes better than last.  I was sick last week.  I had a horrible headache that kept coming and going.  I was hot, then cold.  I'd take a hot shower and my teeth would chatter.  Everything hurt.  I'd lie in bed and finally get comfortable enough to drift off to sleep and something else would start to hurt and I'd have to shift to get comfortable again.  So the result was that I was exhausted, but unable to sleep.  My stomach was bothering me too.  I used to get abdominal migraines as a kid, and this wasn't as bad, but still uncomfortable.  I'm just glad I managed to keep the little food I was able to eat down.

So I was banished to my bedroom for a few days.  I went to work two of the three days, but it wasn't so much fun.  I guess the interesting thing was that I texted my first father when I had enough energy to pick up my phone so he wouldn't think I was upset with him if I didn't text him.  Turns out he was sick too.  And Sandlot was sick.  I don't know of anyone else who's been sick lately.  Weird, right?

On top of it all, my relationship has hit yet another rough patch.  I don't know if we're going to survive this one. So I was sick, curled up in the fetal position, feeling more alone than I've ever felt in my life.  My mom couldn't come near me because her immune system isn't what it used to be.  My dad didn't really care, as long as I stayed away from everyone else.  And Rudy is over two hours away and I wasn't speaking to him anyway.  Seriously, if someone tells you that long distance relationships work, they don't.

This week has to be better.  I'm finally starting to feel better.  I feel like I'm back to normal with SinginInTheRain after the whole "not telling" thing came out.  He didn't get that I was seriously OK with it.  I didn't tell him I was happy, but I let him know it was OK.  A few months ago, I would have been pissed.  So I get why he didn't/doesn't totally buy it, but things are different right now.  Things keep changing.  That's life.

Life isn't static.  It doesn't stand still, it changes like a river.  And that's just how it is.  We can't stop things from changing.  We can't stop the river.  We can either adapt and move with the current, or we can fight it and drown.  I personally would rather swim than sink.  I've gotten really good at adapting to change over the last few years.  I've had to.

If you had told me two years ago that I would not only find my first parents, but that they would be married and have two children who don't know about me, I wouldn't have believed you.

If you had told me two years ago that nearly two years after initial contact, my sisters would still not know about me, I wouldn't have believed you.

If you had told me two years ago that my mother who was almost never sick would be fighting a battle she can't win, I wouldn't have believed you.

If you had told me two years ago that my father would tell me that I don't have a right to be overwhelmed about my mother's illness because he's known her longer so his needs trump mine (yes, he's supposed to be the parent), I wouldn't have believed you (though I guess it wouldn't have been a complete shocker after he told me four times over the past ten years that I was the reason my mom had epilepsy).

If you had told me two years ago that after five years my boyfriend wouldn't be able to make up his mind if he wanted to be with me or not, and would tell me that moving forward with me was a "compromise", I wouldn't have believed you.

If you had told me two years ago that the kindest words that someone had said to me all week came in the form of blog comments from people I've never met, I wouldn't have believed you.

Sink or swim.  I'm choosing to swim.  And to say thank you to the people who have kept me going these past few weeks.  This post probably should be private, but I wanted to publicly thank everyone for being so nice to me and for giving me the strength to continue.  Thank you,

Interview Project 2011

When I signed up for this project, I was a little bit nervous.  OK, I was a lot nervous.  I wasn't sure who I'd be paired with, but I had a feeling chances were it was going to be an AP or first parent.  But I do feel strongly that these things need to include adoptee voices, so I was going to take one for the team.  Um, yeah, didn't happen that way. I was paired up with a kick ass adoptive mom over at Unofficial Mom.  I've had fun emailing back and forth with Sara the past week or so.  We discovered we had a ton in common, both being from the same area, working in a similar field, and other similarities.

Sara and her husband have an interesting adoption story.  They couldn't have babies the old fashioned way and adopted Pie (possibly one of the cutest kids ever) privately.  There story starts like this: "My husband went into a Chipotle for a burrito and came out with a baby."

So we had some fun interviewing each other.  Here's my interview with Sara.  Enjoy and check out her blog!

How'd you come up with the nickname Pie?

She ended up Pie completely by chance. When we were in the hospital with her, and my husband said, “She’s such a little love pie” and it stuck. So she’s Pie, Love Pie, PiePie and about a million others. We even had a special plaque made for her room and we talk about it each night before bed. She just started saying Love Pie herself and it’s maybe the cutest thing ever.

The whole school, work, mother thing sounds like it can be a bit demanding. What do you do for YOU to relax and recharge?
Relax? What’s that? In all seriousness I don’t get to do a ton of that right now. If I happen to have a few minutes while I’m out of the house I’ll run into Target usually and wander around a bit (read buy something for Pie). And if I’m at home, I try to catch up on the ridiculous play list on my DVR. I used to read. All the time. I really miss it, but now when I pick up a book I’m asleep within a page or two.

If you could wipe the slate blank and start over from scratch, what would your perfect open adoption look like?
In all honesty I wouldn’t really change anything about my adoption. Since her birth, I think we’ve all been really good about contact. I send pictures and updates, we have visits. They spend the day with us on Pie’s birthday. And now that she’s older, I’ve started randomly sending coloring pages and crafts she does to her first parents. And they randomly have things they pick up for her too. Open adoption is such a fluid thing, and you really have to stay flexible to move with it as it changes. Now, that being said, I would change things about the pregnancy. I would have preferred the prenatal care be better, and obviously, that there was no drug use.

You mentioned that you would like to adopt again. Should that happen, knowing what you know now, would you rather participate in an open or closed adoption the second time around?
Open all the way. I can’t imagine it being anything else. Granted we knew Pie’s first parents before the pregnancy, much less the adoption, so that one is always going to be a little different. But I truly can’t imagine a child not having access to his/her biological information. Before I learned about open adoption, I worried about it being confusing for the child to have two sets of parents present, or the first parents wanting to take over or any other number of crazy things. But I think if anything nutty happens, the things a child gets from an open adoption far outweigh any bumps in the road that the adults may encounter.

What's your favorite food in the whole world? If you could eat it everyday, would you?
Pizza. And I do eat it far more than I should. I’m a bit of a weirdo here though, because my favorite pizza is the frozen Tombstone kind. There are a handful of other, fancier pizzas I love, but I don’t have all that often. But throw a good old Tombstone in the oven and I’m a happy girl.

What motivated you to start blogging? What's kept you motivated to stick with it?
I started blogging as a way to process the adoption. I think it’s really hard to fully grieve infertility, and the loss of the family you thought you would have. I’m still not sure I really have. And I don’t know anyone who has been involved with an open adoption. There are other adoptions in my family, but they are international and totally closed because of it. I guess I thought I could put all my ramblings out into space and it would make me feel better. I never in a million years thought I would gain the information, support, and friends that I have through this process. I’m in awe everyday of the people who share their lives with me, and want to share mine. And that’s the reason I continue. I don’t think I’ll ever stop learning about adoption, and having such an amazing network of people to teach me is invaluable.

We have the same camera... What's your favorite picture that you've taken with it?
It’s a copout I know, but anything with Pie in it. If you were twisting my arm I’d have to say this one is near the top. It’s a perfect capture of a completely ordinary day. Pie is a water baby through and through, she would spend every waking moment in water if she could. So the summer is pool time, pool time and more pool time. This was just a quick shot after she had worn herself out in the pool…her chunky cheeks, the water droplets, her gorgeous eyes…it all just makes me smile.

If you could give your daughter only one piece of advice for the rest of her life, what would it be?
This one is so hard! But I think it would be something along the lines of the fact that she is amazing and special and anyone who doesn’t treat her accordingly isn’t worth her time.

What's the biggest thing you've learned from another blogger?

I think the best thing I’ve learned is that it’s okay to not always know what you’re doing in regards to adoption. You do your best and you ask for help or advice when you need it.

What's something that you've learned from this Interview Project?
Another good one. I think this Interview Project has reminded me how much I can gain from getting to know people in different adoption roles. Being able to have the insight into other perspectives is amazing. And I learned that you are one cool chick J

Conversations With Mom

I was thinking the other day about adult adoptees and adoptive parents.  Lots of drama has been happening lately, but what really got to me was the way that some adoptive parents reacted to adult adoptees.  These adoptees, who have been there for me when I was free falling after a stalled reunion a year ago, were dismissed, called names, and told they were unwanted.  By adoptive parents.  I was stunned.  I'd heard of this happening before, but had never witnessed it.  I never thought that adoptive parents would treat adoptees that way.  Adoption is supposed to be about adoptees, isn't it?  Adoptive parent should respect adoptees, adult or not, as someone who was adopted and therefore shares something with their children.  We may not all think alike, but we do deserve to be respected enough as people.

I was blown away.  Mostly because I know some amazing adoptive parents.  My own being some of them.  My mother NEVER would have spoken to these adoptees the way some of the APs were attacking Joy and Von.  She would have been horrified.  My mother is near sainthood in my book.  Not because of adopting me.  Side story time!

A healing statue was brought to a Church near where we live.  Naturally, we want to bring my mother there.  So off we go, even though it's not her best time of day.  We get to the Church, say a prayer, make a donation, have our rosary beads blessed, and sit for a few minutes in quiet reflection.  My mother starts to fade a bit, so it is time to leave while she still has the ability to walk by herself.  As we get ready to go, a family walks in the side door.  They have a little boy who very clearly was sick.  The family is there to pray and hope for a miracle.  My mother sees them walk in and refuses to leave.  She wants to make sure she can say a prayer for the little boy.  She is exhausted.  She hasn't left the house in days.  She feels horrible.  We are drenched from the rain.  But she stays on that uncomfortable Church bench because she wants to say a prayer for that little boy.  He is more important to her, someone she's never met, than the nice warm car.  She's amazing.

Moving on.  Back in July, my mom and I went on vacation.  More like she went on vacation and I continued my attempt at nursing duties.  It was right before the Adoptee Rights Protest, and I was sad to be missing it.  My mother was with it enough to notice I was sad.  She asked me about it, and we had the following conversation.

Mom: Jenn, what's up?  You don't seem yourself.

Jenn:  Oh, I'm fine Mom.  I'm just a little bummed.  My friends are going to a protest in San Antonio but I couldn't go.  I'm just sad to miss it.

Mom: A protest?  What for?

Jenn:  Well, it's to petition the government to unseal birth certificates for adult adoptees.  When you adopted me, my original birth certificate was sealed, and I can't get it without a court order because of the year I was born.  Had I been born before 1972 or after 2008, I would have been able to get that document at 18.  But myself and the majority of adult adoptees in the country cannot access our birth information.  We're the only group in the US who cannot access that information.  I know several people who can't even get passports or driver's licenses because they can't prove they were born in the US.  They need a document for the government that the government prohibits them from having.

Mom:  Well that's… that's just not right.  It's not, you know, fair! (for my mother who suffers from word aphasia, the fact she got these words right is amazing)

Jenn:  I know.  It's not fair.

Mom:  I'm glad your friends are protesting.

Jenn:  Me too Mom.

My mother believes that people should be on equal footing.  She raised me that way.  She believes in equality.  She was the first person to tell me I wasn't "less then" for being adopted.  She taught me to stand up for what I believe in.  She's my biggest fan, and my fiercest defender.  At least she was…  If she doesn't agree with someone, she at least respects the other person as a person, a human, and hears them out.  Without calling them names.  Or telling them they were unwanted. Or saying other nasty things.  I know she isn't the only adoptive parent out there who feels that way.  I've been lucky enough to meet some others floating around online in adoptoland.  And I'm really happy that they exist.  So if you are one of those adoptive parents, thank you for being out there.

I'm very lucky to have my adoptive mother as my mother.  I'm glad that my mother supports me.  She backs me up.  Even when she's sick, she puts others first.  Because that's who she is.  And she's on my side.  For that, I'll always be thankful.

Coming Apart

The Kitchen Sink

Wow Jenn.  That's an... interesting photo you have there.  Is that the kitchen sink?

Good eye!  It is the kitchen sink!  And it's coming apart...

My grandparent's kitchen sink was about to explode a few months ago.  Like it was coming apart faster than they could tie rags to it to hold everything together.  Even without the sink "on" water would fly everywhere to the point where they nearly had to shut off the water flow completely to the kitchen.  For my grandparents, this was not only a pain, it also became a huge problem as they wash all their dishes by hand.  Not having a kitchen sink was not an option for them and they had to get a new facet ASAP.

What does this have to do with adoption?  Good question!  It has a lot to do with adoption.  More specifically, it has a lot to do with my recent reunion.

When I was adopted, there was a little hole in the facet.  It was easily patched and everyone moved on with their lives, for a while.  I lived with my adoptive parents, who cared and raised me, and my first parents went on with their lives as if I hadn't been born (or at least they tired).  I went to school, made friends, took ballet lessons, and they got married, had other children, changed jobs, etc.  My adoptive parents got to raise a child, something they had always wanted to do, and my larger adoptive family got another member.  Things seemed to be going really well for a while.  The leak was patched.

And then I started to get older and I started to wonder about my first parents.  I wanted to know who they were, why they put me up for adoption, and where I came from.  My adoptive parents didn't have those answers, and tried to patch up my questions by adding another layer.

What if they don't want to be found?

You could ruin their lives you know.

You already have a family.  Why not be happy with them/us?

On and on it went.  The patches continued.  And we went on with our lives, but the patches weren't holding up as much.  As for me, it became pretty clear that my adoption story was being covered up by all of these obscuring pieces of cloth trying to hold the dam back.

Turning off the "water", or the fact that I was adopted, wasn't an option for me.  I've always known I was adopted, and I couldn't change that fact.  No matter how badly I wanted to, it just wasn't possible for me to make believe that I was my parents biological daughter.  I wish that I could be so many times.  But I'm not.  And I will never be.  So I have to find another solution.

Entering into reunion, was my way of starting over.  It was my way of getting a new facet.  And while not perfect (there are still a few leaks in the new facet), I feel like my identity as a person is much more solid now.  I feel as though things are going better for me to the point where I'm not afraid to turn the water on.  It's a work in progress, but I don't take a bath anymore when exploring those issues.  I still get "wet" and emotional from time to time.  I still hurt from time to time.  But overall, I'm so happy that I'm not dealing with the bad patches and the makeshift sink.  I deserve better.

PS- Happy birthday Rudy!