Hockey Tournament Mind Blown

My adoptive family is a hockey family.  My mom's family hails from Boston and if you weren't aware that Boston is a hockey town, then I'm letting you know that it is.  My uncles all played hockey growing up and all had a decent amount of skill.  All of my cousins (myself included) tied on their first ice skates once they could walk.  I remember being three and learning how to skate (and I was a "late bloomer" in our family).  Skating lessons followed for years.  I chose the figuring skating route, but most of my cousins (girls included) have chosen to play hockey.  And here's the thing.  They are all amazing at it.  My four year old cousin just got her first skating medal this month.  She's four.  A medal.  And not a participation one either.  When I say they are amazing, I mean it.

Here's another thing about my adoptive family.  My mother is one of eight siblings.  There is not one sibling who lives further than one hour away from my mother's parents.  Not one.  There are 23 first cousins.  Only one lives more than an hour away (and is planning on moving back soon).  Two of us went "away" for school and we've both moved home.  That's just how we are.  Two of my aunts are neighbors.  Not like in-the-general-area neighbors, but honest to goodness next-door-sharing-property-lines neighbors.  And my grandparents about a mile away.  And we live seven minutes up the street.  And my other cousins are 12 minutes in the other direction.  To say we're close is an understatement.

How are the two related?  Well, my cousins are amazing at hockey.  Which means that they've all been making their high schools' varsity teams since they were freshmen.  And because they live close, but in different towns, the two teams end up playing each other.  A lot.  And because it's fun to watch, the rest of the family shows up for support.  And to give them credit, my cousins are incredibly supportive of one another, even when their teams are playing each other.  I have some great photos I took at the games this season of all three boys on the ice at the same time.  How amazing!  I've watched them pond skate since they were little kids so it's not an unusual sight, just a different one as they were wearing different jerseys this time.

I've been going to a lot of the games lately because it is tournament time.  I have cousins on two different teams, plus my home town is in the same league.  So I've been cheering them on, driving an hour to the rink after work and on weekends, and screaming for hours as one team and then another would play.  Sadly, that journey has come to an end for one team, but not before they took out my hometown.  I was actually cheering against my hometown.  Weird.

So I was looking back through the pictures and reflecting on the season they had.  This particular team is losing nine seniors and will probably have to build themselves back up.  Their amazing goalie is graduating, a tough loss for the team next year.  I was looking over the bracket, amazed at how far they'd come.  I saw where they beat my hometown, where they beat another, and where they finally fell.  They were the top team going into the tournament which I knew, but never really thought about.  As a side note, the other team won the tournament.  Great talent I know!

Gee, I wonder how my team ranking coming into the tournament?  Down the list I go.  Wow, there's a lot of teams on here!  Oh look!  There's my hometown!  Only 1, 2, 3... 6 from the bottom.  Wait a minute.  Wait just one minute!  What team was that three from the bottom?  Oh.  My.  God.

My sisters' school was in the tournament.  The high school that both of my first parents graduated from.  The school that KungFuPanda is about to graduate from.  And where Sandlot plans on attending next year.  There they were.  Right there.  Lost in the preliminaries.  But still.  Could you imagine the possibilities there?  What a small world.  What if they had made it to the game against my cousins?  Stranger things have happened.  What if my sister and I had both been at that ice rink at the same time?  What if my first parents had?  They are proud alumnus after all.  Freaky.  As in twilight freaky.

Even though they were in the same tournament, it turns out that my cousins never played my sister's school.  Neither did my hometown.  But still.  I was not expecting to see them in the same bracket and it threw me for a major loop.  Our paths could have crossed.  When I was driving home from the game the other night, I probably did cross paths with my first father.  We were on the same highway at the same time, me on my way home and him on his way to work.  I'm never on that particular highway ever, so it was sort of unnerving knowing that he was probably just ten minutes behind me.  So many what ifs and possibilities.

I Have Options

I've been thinking a lot about options.  I'm starting to realize that I now have a lot more options than I used to.  It's just funny because my reunion has been completely stale for the last three months.  Things weren't changing and they didn't look promising for a while.  Actually, it was getting really hard to blog because I wasn't sure what to write about.  There are only so many posts you can do on general adoption every day before you start to run out of ideas.  My style is to write about my own experiences with adoption but with almost no new experiences, it was getting a little rough.  So now I've got plenty!  Hehe!

The obvious change is that I will be meeting my first mother.  This is huge.  I have always hoped that someday it would happen, and I'm thrilled that it's happening now.  I feel better than I've felt for a very long time and for the first time in a long time, I feel secure with my life in a way I haven't before.  I have a plan, I know where it is that I want to go, and I'm making steps toward that future.  Meeting my mother was one of my goals for the year.  In fact, it was the biggest goal for the year.  I just feel like this is the right time for me and who knows what could happen from here?  This could open up doors or close them.  Either way, loose ends are going to be tied up and we'll both be able to move on finally.

For the first time, I have the ability to be found.  I have several first family members on Ancestry.com.  They have the ability to find me if I make my tree public.  I currently have the tree set to private.  I was going to change the setting, but now I'm waiting to see how my meeting goes.  I'm going to make it public eventually, I just don't want to overwhelm myself.  I don't want to meet my first mother and then be found immediately afterward and thrown into another reunion without fulling processing the big one (or to be found before I meet her and to have her change her mind... that would be very bad).  I want to give myself some time to sort through anything that meeting my first mother will stir up.  If I assume that nothing is going to come out of it, then that's just naive on my part.  So while it's an option, one that I had in my back pocket if my first mother said no, I'll probably not exercise my right to make my tree public for a little while longer.  I don't want to overwhelm myself, and I know it doesn't take much to do that.

KungFuPanda also turns eighteen within the next few weeks.  Before, my hands were tied as she was a minor.  I couldn't contact her or hope to be found.  That was very hard for me.  My sister will soon be a legal adult, and therefore I have nothing holding me back from contacting her.  I still think that it's best coming from my first parents.  I'm hoping to figure some things out with them when I meet them (pinch me!).  We'll see what happens.  I'm really hoping that after meeting me, my first mother will be able to set some of her fears aside and realize that it doesn't have to be a bad thing.  This is another area where I have to be really careful not to overwhelm myself.  I have to carefully balance everything and not jump into something when I'm not prepared to deal with it.  Before I was thinking that I'd contact her this summer.  Now I'm thinking I'm going to put that plan to rest until the dust settles from meeting my first mother.  I have to do what's best for me and I'm struggling with what that might be.

I have options.  I can make changes if I want.  My hands aren't as tied as they used to be.  It's just funny to me that all of these options opened up at the same time.  I think that if things hadn't worked out with the whole meeting my first mother thing, than I'd be seriously looking into other options.  As it is, I'm going to sit back and see where this ride takes me for now.

Ancestry.com Continues to Blow My Mind

My Family Tree!

I started a private family tree on Ancestry.com a while back.  My paternal grandfather was listed on a detailed public family tree.  Because he died a few years back, his information is available to anyone.  I was able to trace him back pretty far, but could not find anything on my grandmother because she's still living and never married my paternal grandfather.  My other grandparents are dead ends as well because they are too young to be listed on census data (so far) and I don't have a lot of information about them.

I could ask about them, but I'm not sure what sort of answers I'd get and if they'd be accurate or not.  In the past, I haven't been given the full story and my first parents have been a bit evasive.  They give me the general idea, but never the full story.  It could be because they don't know it, or maybe it's because they don't know that I want all the juicy details like names, but either way, I'm not willing to risk ticking them off by asking too many nit-picky questions right now.

A few weeks ago I started to seriously track down my paternal grandmother and kept hitting brick walls.  I had a last name in theory from my first mother but couldn't find anything.  I asked for help and a few people gave it an honest go but nobody was able to make any headway.  So I walked away for a bit.  After a friend mentioned the site last week, I logged back on for the heck of it the other day.  And I had a little green leaf on one of my sisters.  That shouldn't happen because my sister is still very much alive and under the age of 18 so not on many public documents.  Weird.  Because I'm me, I followed the leaf to another public profile.  It would seem that one of my aunts decided to make her profile public.  My sisters are private, but because I used their names in mine, it still matched to the tree.  Naturally, I'm not on it.  But guess who is?  They may all be marked as "Private" but it was pretty easy to figure out who my grandmother was (the only person connected to two men and having children with both of them).  I've done enough research to know that the tree matched up perfectly with my own.  I even found a few photos!

For the first time, I have information on my paternal grandmother.  She's always been the biggest mystery.  My other grandparents are all Portuguese (in theory).  However, I was told my maternal grandmother was Portuguese, French, and English.  I thought, cool.  Growing up in an Irish family, it was sort of cool to hear that I was "English".  I quote that because if I'm English, it's not really though her.  My maternal grandmother was French, but by way of Canada.  I've traced my linage back to France.  Did I mention the year was 1469?  I haven't found the English line yet, but there's a lot of people to go through and I do have one other great-grandmother that's "Portuguese" I suspect may be English on my maternal side.  Oh, and did I mention that some my ancestors were in Massachusetts pre-Revolutionary War?  And then they moved to Canada.  And somehow I ended up in Massachusetts.  This is mind blowing for the girl who used to listen to classmates tell stories about how their ancestors were on the Mayflower.  While this isn't quite the same thing, I remember thinking "How cool would it be to trace my ancestors back that far?  Oh well, I guess it's just not meant to be..."  I now know further back in my first family tree than my adoptive parents know of their trees.  Wow.  For once I have more information that they do... Who would have thunk it?

You'd think I'd feel connected to these people, but I don't.  Not yet anyway.  It's so new to me, that I'm connected to these people with names and in some cases, faces.  They were here.  They lived.  They survived.  And I come from them.  And what's interesting to me is that they were dead before I came along.  They never would have known about me anyway even if I hadn't been adopted.  I'm working on feeling connected to them.  It's going to take me a while.  I need to let it all sink in.  I'm just glad that I'm learning more and more about my truth and my history every day, with or without my first father's help.  I'm so excited that if I have children, they'll have this information too.  And honestly?  If I had grown up with my first parents, I probably wouldn't have known this either.  Because I doubt my first father knows his family history the way that I do now.  I doubt he's traced it back to France or Pre-US Massachusetts.  Another reason why I love technology...

My mind = blown.  Thanks Ancestry.com!

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,

Unasked Questions

I have a number of questions that I haven't asked my first father.  Each week when we email, we each come up with a question or two for the other person to answer.  These questions are usually "Getting to know you" questions and we answer them for ourselves.  So for example, I might ask my first father what his favorite Christmas gift was and then explain that mine was a dollhouse my grandfather built for me.  I'd then go on to describe why it was so special (it took him hours to finish and it was exactly the kind that I wanted) and how it's one of the few things that I have that reminds me of him.

So most of our emails go back and forth like that.  Sometimes the questions are better than others.  I usually learn things about him that I didn't expect because of the way he answers the question.  So it's an interesting thing.  Also, for a while we were talking on the phone too so our emails were less of "how was your week?" and more "what am I supposed to write about?"  It's a challenge.

That being said, there are questions that I've always wanted to ask but haven't had the chance.  Actually, that's not true.  I've had the chance, but I've been too scared to ask.  I was afraid of scaring him away.  So I kept a few questions to myself.  Hard ones.  Ones that he may not want to answer.  And the truth is, he doesn't have to.  He doesn't have to do anything.  He could ignore them, like he's ignored other questions in the past.  I don't expect him to be a walking encyclopedia and he doesn't have to lay his life bare to me.  He tends to do that anyway, but that's another story for another day.  On the other hand, I'm a naturally curious person and I ask weird questions anyway.  And I've answered every question he's asked me.

I want to know if he's ever planning on telling his/my family about me.  I'm curious.  I want to know what he sees happening when my sisters find out about me.  Are they going to be told they can't talk to their aunts/uncles/grandma about a new addition to the family?  I have these questions because he's made it seem like he never plans on telling them, but he hasn't actually gone that far in saying that.  I know he never expects me to meet them.  So I want to ask realistically how he sees this whole thing going down in the future.

There is no law that says anybody can limit two consenting adults from getting to know each other if they so chose.  So if I want to contact my paternal family (who are adults) I have the ability to do so and my first father doesn't get a say in it.  His actions the past few months have proven to me that he does not have my best interests at heart and that he's putting himself first.  So I've given myself permission to do what I think is best for me.  Right now, what's best for me is to wait.  I don't have time in my life for added drama.  But that doesn't mean it will always be that way.  So someday I'll get in touch when I'm in a good place to handle things.  Right now just isn't that time.

I'm curious as to how he sees the whole thing going down.  I really do wonder sometimes.  I have a feeling that he thinks that he'll tell his daughters someday, maybe ten years or so down the line and that they will keep his secret (or at that point his family won't be around anymore... at least his mother won't).  I'm also curious if that's a part of the decision to wait... he doesn't want his mother to know about me.  So I'm going to ask.  I'm going to wait another week or so (let the old drama settle a bit) and then I'll ask.  He could either answer (and then I'll sort of know depending if he lies or not) or he might not.  At least I'll have tried.

I have a few other questions too.  I'll be asking them over the next few months.  The gloves are off.  I don't owe him anything.  He doesn't owe me anything.  I have nothing to lose at this point.  He's already destroyed my trust.  He has a new nickname in my head (it's the same as my old vice principle, a man who did everything our principle told him like a puppet on a sting).  So I'm asking.  No more nice, obedient adoptee.  Time for the real Jenn to show her face and ask her questions.  I'm done playing a role.  It's time to just be me.

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.

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.

Switched At Birth: The Dating Your Father Complex (not really)

I'm a fan of ABC Family's Switched at Birth.  Although I wasn't "switched at birth", I do find some of the themes to be similar.  I watched last night's episode "Self-Portrait With a Bandaged Ear" and was again struck at how similar some of the themes are.  (Note: I'm about to talk about a few minor plot points).

Basically, you have two girls who are switched at birth, and figure it out when they are 16.  Major twist is that one of the girls is deaf.  So you basically have all these issues that the show gets to explore about not only being switched at birth but also the differences between the deaf and hearing worlds.  Back to the switch thing.  One girl ends up with this super rich family (the father was a major league baseball player) while the other girl ends up with a single mom in a bad area of town.  Eventually, the other father comes back and had the opportunity to get to know his biological daughter.

So you have Bay and Angelo getting to know one another.  Which is awkward.  So in this episode, Bay meets Angelo at a coffee shop where the two of them are going to get to know each other.  This is really their first time hanging out together just the two of them because all other "visits" have had a chaperon.  So it's strange.  And neither of them know what to say.  And he orders her a coffee not realizing that she's 16 and not really allowed to drink it.  Whoops!  And then Bay says the most amazing thing.  She tells him that it's so strange because it's like a cross between an interview and a date.  Only he's her father.

She hit the nail on the head.  Exactly what I felt like getting to know my first father.  There's a lot of qualities that are similar to dating.  Only it's not a date because he's your father.  So then it feels more like an interview.  But not really.  There really isn't any situation that's similar.  So weird and awkward.  And because it's weird and awkward, you know that something doesn't feel right.  Or at least I knew something didn't feel right.  And that just made it worse.  Don't get me wrong, it was amazing getting to know my first father.  But different and unexpected at the same time.  Twilight zone different.

Anyway, that small line stuck with me for the rest of the show.  Because it summed up so perfectly what I was feeling nearly a year ago when I met my first father for the first time.  And it really made me think about why that show is on television.  Because honestly?  It's like something that no other situation compares to.  There isn't anything else like it.  This feeling of getting to know someone you are biologically related to for the first time not as a child but as an adult (or teen in this case).  It's not normal and people are drawn to the story line.  Or at least that's what I think anyway.

I was talking to Rudy about things last night.  He compared what I was going through to a break up.  And in some cases, he's right.  But at the same time, when you break up with someone, there's a small glimmer of hope that maybe there's someone else out there.  You can meet another person eventually.  You might not think that right away, but there is a light at the end of the tunnel.  My first father can never be replaced.  There is only one person out there who contributed that part of my DNA.  I can't search again and find someone else.  That's it.  He's it.  So if things are really done, then that's it.  It's painful, but the truth.

And because it's January 18th, go check out Amanda's blog post STOP SOPA/PIPA!

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.

Extended First Family

My Family Tree is a bit bare...

I've been thinking a lot lately about my extended first family.  I don't know why, but I have them stuck in my head these last few days.  I think that a part of it has to do with the fact that my maternal grandfather's birthday just past.  The first one.  My first parents signed my relinquishment papers on his birthday.  What a great gift to him!  Actually, I don't know if it was a gift or not.  He's the grandparent who puzzles me most about this whole thing.

My paternal grandmother wouldn't have approved of my adoption.  We all know it.  That's why she doesn't know about me.  I was going to clue her in, but she's not well according to my first father.  So even if I do tell her, she probably won't remember it.  It's selfish, but I don't think I can handle one more person with serious brain issues in my life.  So I'm not going to "out" myself to her.  It would just cause more harm than good at this point.  If my first father wants to come clean to her, he's going to have to do it himself.

My paternal grandfather wouldn't have approved either.  I just get the sense that he wasn't the kind of guy who would be ok with his family being raised by someone else.  He wasn't the most traditional kind of guy.  He had two kids with one woman, got divorced, and had a companion for the rest of his life, who he never lived with (my grandmother), and had two kids with her.  So not the most traditional guy.  I don't think he would have cared that I was born out of wedlock.  We'll never know.  He passed away four years ago.

My maternal grandmother did not approve of me.  Apparently I caused a lot of issues between my first mother and her.  That's one of the reasons why my first mother doesn't want to tell her parents that I'm back in touch.  Because it will bring up old problems.  I got the feeling that she pushed for my adoption.  My first mother had already made up her mind, but she wouldn't have been able to change it with my grandmother pushing her once she knew about me.  What would the neighbors think?

My maternal grandfather, I just don't know about.  He was with my grandmother.  He knew about me.  But after all the conversations with both first parents, he'd be thrilled if I got back in touch.  No, he didn't fight for me.  No, he didn't tell anyone about me.  But he'd be happy now.  This leads me to think that maybe he wasn't really ok with it back then.  Then again, I won't know unless I meet him.  And he's the one that I want to meet. It's weird, but I went into a similar profession as him.  We're both engineers.  And in all the photos I have of him, he's smiling.  He looks like the kind of grandfather any girl would want.  I know he has a temper.  I've been told stories about it.  But nobody's perfect.  But then again, he might have pushed my first mother to give me up.  What kind of person doesn't support their daughter to keep their child?  I was his granddaughter.  But I know I don't know the whole story here.  I'm trying not the judge, but I really don't know.

As for the rest of them, my first father's family I've been warned about.  They don't seem like the kind of people I'd want to meet.  Or maybe they are and words have been twisted.  Who knows.  My first mother's family is her brother.  Who knows about me.  Who I want to meet.  He's a computer scientist, which is a parallel field to mine.

I have about nineteen cousins floating around out there.  Some are older than my first parents.  Most have their own children at this point.  Out of the nineteen, I'm sure there's someone I would like.  I mean, who knows how many first cousins I have?  But it would take so much to get to know them.  And most of them live in Georgia.  And there would be lots of drama.

I'm curious.  I'll admit that.  I want to know them.  I want to feel like I know my biological family.  But I don't know if I can deal with the rejection that is sure to come from some of them.  Or the drama it's sure to dredge up.  Or the fact that I will most certainly be put in the middle.  So I don't know.

I probably won't ever meet my biological grandmother on my first father's side.  That side of the family may be lost to me forever.  But who knows about the maternal side?  I don't know if it would be worth it.  Ugh.

Shifting Thinking

I'm having a hard time dealing with everything.  I know it's going to take me some time, but it's so hard on top of everything else.  I've had to shift my thinking and make some changes in my life and in my plans.

I had a book made of all the emails in the first year between me and my first father.  I thought we'd have a second year to add to it later.  There have been a grand total of four emails from him since them, and they are all very short.  So I guess no more second book.  It was next to my bed before because I was reading it at night.  I had to move it I was so upset, so under my bed it went.  That only lasted a day and I put it up in the attic  buried as deep as I could get it without looking at the cover (which is a picture of the two of us).

I deleted all the text messages out of my phone (but took screen shots of the last few days) and moved all the pictures to a separate part of the phone in storage (that I need to actively look for and put in a password for).  I deleted the picture out of his contact information and wiped the call log of his name.  He was removed from my favorites.  I'd delete him completely but I need to know when not to answer the phone.  I'll probably change his name to "Do Not Answer" instead.

A filter was added to my inbox so any email will bypass it and therefore not end up on my phone.  I'd kept an email in my inbox from last March after we first met, and that was moved out and away so I won't have to look at it anymore unless I go seeking it out.

My plan was to order a book for all the emails with my first mother.  I was going to try to do that sooner rather than later.  I'm still going to do it, but I'll probably let some time go by to give myself some time to heal.  I've decided to get a storage box that I can put everything in and seal it up.  I'll store it all in the attic together, where I don't have to look at the remnants of a failed reunion.  Someday I'll go back through it, maybe when I have my own kids and they start asking questions, but right now I want nothing to do with it.  I won't get rid of it because it's important to me to have some answers for any children I might have, but I can't bear the thought of even having it around me.

Honestly, I don't care anymore if I accidentally out my first family here.  That was my major concern before.  That someone they knew would find out because of me.  But now I'm not interested in keeping their secret.  So I'm here, publicly.  And if anyone finds this, then so be it.

I'm going to make an honest go at the email thing next month.  I said I would, so I will.  But it's never going to be quite the same.  I've lost my faith in my reunion.  I don't think I'm ever going to be able to get it back.  And I'm so hurt over this still, even after an apology.  I'm hoping that with time, I'll start to heal, but for now I can't even look at an email or a book.

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,

Geography

It's Massachusetts!

It's a common thing for people to want to go to the place they came from.  I have seen it many times in my own family.  I have relatives that traveled back to Ireland and went to towns where their ancestors are from (I say their, not mine - a new development for me).  I have friends who were born in other cities in other states and they have traveled back at one point or another (sometimes to visit family and friends still there, other times because it is where they are from and they want to visit).  It is not unheard of.

I have been thinking a lot about this phenomenon.  This idea of going back to where it all started.  It is no secret that I have never been to the city where I was born after my adoptive parents took me home to Boston.  It was never a place we wanted to visit.  They were honest and told me where I was born and that my first mother was from there, but other than that, it was never discussed.  We lived (and still do) an hour away, but it was never a place for us to visit.  We never went to any museums there, we never visited that zoo, we never attended any cultural festivals...  I was never told anything good about the city where I was born.

As I got older, people would ask where I was born and I would tell them.  I never had any problems answering questions.  Then the comments would start.  It became pretty clear that people in my hometown looked down their noses at where I was from.  I hadn't lived there since I was two months old, but it was not a good place to talk about.  Because I was so caught up in the clean slate theory, I looked down my nose too.  It must be a crazy place.  My first mother was probably a crack whore and my first father was probably a cold abandoner who most likely did not even know about me.  I was a kid, these assumptions happen.

When I was in high school, I started looking at colleges and one of them was right near my birth city.  We passed it on the highway and my mom offered to get off and go to a Dunkin Donuts or something so I could see where I was born.  I told her no and begged her to keep driving.  That was the first time I realized I had a fear of where I was born.  In all of about five seconds I thought about what it would be like to go to a Dunkin Donuts.  I would scan every face and wonder if one of them was her.  What it she was there?  Would I know?  The thought freaked me out.  It scared me.

I had a pretty good idea about being Portuguese.  I looked the part, and I was from an area that meant I probably was Portuguese.  My mother told me I was French, and again, it made some sense.  So that was cool.  I took French in high school in an effort to connect in any way to my past from a distance.  Nobody needed to know that I had a drop of French blood...  The English ancestry was a complete surprise.  I was raised by an Irish family.  My adoptive dad runs around the house screaming about how much he hates the English.  I've been to England back when I thought I had no connection.

I would have a very hard time visiting Portugal.  I have a hard time going into a Portuguese bakery.  I freak out, can't make eye contact with the people behind the counter.  I feel like an outsider.  Rudy doesn't get it.  He wonders what the big deal is.  They're supposed to be my people right?  Well, they don't feel like that.  They don't feel like my people.  Irish pub?  No problem.  I understand that culture.  Portuguese bakery?  Nope, don't get it at all.  I'm not Irish, I'm Portuguese but you'd never know that by the way I act.  It's such a close knit community, I don't think I'll ever feel like I "get it".  Ever.  So even though I'd love to visit the Azores where most of my family is from, I don't know if I'll ever work up the nerve to visit.

Simiarly, I don't know if I'll ever be able to visit my birth city until all of my family knows about me and I've gotten to meet them.  I know what my first mother looks like now.  I'd be able to pick her out of a crowd.  If we went into Dunkin Donuts and she was there, I'd know.  I may not be prepared to meet her, but I know I never will be fully prepared.  And I'd probably walk right up to her and say hi.  I don't think it would go over very well.

I shouldn't have that fear.  I think it would be disrespectful for me to go to their house just to check the place out, but I should be able to go to a city where I was born to check it out.  The city I would have been raised in had they kept me.  It shouldn't be such a big deal, yet it is.

Maybe someday. My first father promised to show me around someday.  Maybe if I have someone else there with me, I'd feel better about it.  Rudy doesn't know it yet (unless he reads it here) but if that's the case, he's totally coming with me me. :-P

What's Next?

How I Feel...

A little over a week ago, my first father asked me about my expectations going into reunion.  He told me his and asked about mine.  I had a really hard time coming up with the answer.  It was hard for me to think about my expectations because I wanted to be honest, but not mean.  There are ways of phrasing negative things to make them seem better.  This works well in some cases and not so well with others.

It took me a few tries, but I finally got something together that I was OK with sending him.  In that email, I asked him about his expectations for the future.  This was hard for me to ask.  It shouldn't be because we've become pretty close lately (we've been texting a lot and talking twice a week instead of just once) but it was still hard for me to ask.  I wasn't sure about what to expect back from him.  I didn't know what he'd say.  And he has the potential to really hurt me at this point.

I was pleasantly surprised with his answer.  To paraphrase, he told me that he hopes him and NeverTooLate come to an agreement soon about when to tell my sisters about me.  I get the sense that he's opting for sooner and she's opting for later.  He said he wants to keep getting to know me and meet the important people in my life.  So sigh of relief from me.  He had the ability to totally gut me there and he didn't.  So ten points for SinginInTheRain.

So I had to answer the question back.  Usually if I ask a question, I answer it first.  It's a good way to make sure that he understands what I mean because he can take cues from my answer.  On the flip side, he sort of already knows how I feel about things so he can tailor his answer to better match mine.  Good or bad, it's our way of doing things.  Unfortunately because I was so caught up in answering his expectations question, I completely forgot to ask mine in my response (the way we usually do it).  So I had to send it to him as a PS email of sorts from a rest stop on my way to see Rudy.  Not a good place to type out an email, so I had to put off the answer.

In my original email, I told him that I don't have many "expectations".  I find that when I have them, I either get really disappointed, or I am completely off in what ends up happening.  I prefer to call them "hopes" instead.  I think that's sort of how he answered anyway.  I told him that I hoped to meet NeverTooLate someday, I hoped that things worked out well when they do eventually tell my sisters (which I phrased in a way to hopefully not pressure), and that I hoped I could show him where I live and introduce him to the important people in my life.

Then I took a huge step.  A few months back when I started my job he mentioned that I should scout out lunch spots and maybe he'd come up and have lunch with me this fall.  It's now October and he never brought it up again.  Is he waiting for me to bring it up?  Does he not want to?  I don't know.  I'm going to take an educated guess that he's waiting for me to make the next move.  I did, and it wasn't very pretty.

"If at some point you get bored during your days off, I have an extra day off I can take whenever and we could hang out in the morning or something. If you wanted to come up to [insert town name here] I could show you around.  There's plenty of other stuff to do/see. Just thought I'd throw that out there. If you're too busy or it's too much don't worry about it. :-)"

I warned you, it wasn't pretty.  But I took that step.  It shouldn't be a huge step, but considering that the last two times he's met me there have been issues from NeverTooLate, it was still sort of a big deal.  He might say no.  I could see him saying no, because I need to focus on my mom.  He pulled that before.  He doesn't get that I can't do anything for her, so I might as well be happy and seeing him makes me happy.  And I really want to show him around my hometown.

He won't be able to meet my parents, which I think he wants to do.  My mom isn't up for it and my dad hasn't gotten over his little hissy fit.  But I think that would be a lot anyway, to show SinginInTheRain around my hometown, show him where I grew up, AND meet my parents... it would all be too much.  But if he says yes, I would like to show him where I went to school, where I played soccer, maybe go to the local hangout which has a TON of stuff to do, and just have fun, no stress of meeting my parents.  Then once my mom starts to do a little bit better and my dad puts his big boy panties on, we'll figure something out.

That's my current plan.  It could very well backfire.  We'll see.  If nothing else, it will make for some interesting blog posts!

Sometimes It's About Me

Wish I had a Map
To Navigate this sometimes!

I wrote the other day about how my mother was upset with me when I originally told her about meeting my first father for the first time.  I figured I'd go more into depth today and explain a little further what went on because I do think it's important to talk about.

My adoptive mother is/was my best friend.  I saw was because I haven't had a conversation with her in over a month because of the stupid tumor in her brain.  It's frustrating.  Moving on.  With the exception of my senior year of high school (where I was determined to assert my independence and she was determined to keep me as her baby) my mom and I have always been close.  I have always felt comfortable sharing anything with her.  I would call her every day in college.  If I had a problem, I would tell her about it and she wouldn't judge me or tell me what to do unless I asked her for advice.  She was supportive of everything.  If she didn't agree, she was gentle about it.  We still had our fights from time to time, but if relationships can be scaled from zero to ten with ten being the absolute best and zero being the absolute worst, my mom and I scored an eight or nine.

When I made the decision to search, I did so on my own.  My mother had offered to help me search after I told her about the whole "I Don't Count" incident.  I was happy that she felt comfortable with it to offer (because if she wasn't ok with it, she wouldn't have offered) and I took that for her blessing.  At the time, I was still trying to work things out in my head.  When I did decide to search, I had the option of telling my parents.  It would have been very easy and I know my mother would have jumped right on bored.  But I didn't.  My mother told me a while back that she really wanted to meet my first mother to thank her for giving me up.  I didn't want that to cloud my search.  And because my search was ultimately about me.

Now before any adoptive parents start complaining and asserting that reunion does have to do with them too, let me make sure I'm clear about what I mean.  My search wasn't about my adoptive parents.  They played a part in in for sure.  If they hadn't raised me to be a strong, independent person, I may not have had the courage to search.  If I hadn't thought that in the end they'd be supportive, I may not have searched.  And if they had never told me I was adopted (which happens) I most certainly wouldn't have known to search.  But my reasons for searching had nothing to do with them.  It wasn't that they didn't raise me correctly.  It wasn't that they didn't love me enough.  There is NOTHING they could have done that would have made me not want to find my first family (if I thought they wouldn't be supportive I just would have held of searching for a while, but I still would have wanted to).  For me, I needed to know where I came from.  I needed to find out if I looked like anyone.  I needed to know if my natural talents came from anywhere.  These were things that my adoptive parents could not answer for me.  They could not fulfill those needs.  It wasn't there fault, it was the fact that adoption overall is about loss.  It's never a good situation because everyone looses.

My search was about me.  It was about answering my questions.  So I did it alone.  My mother couldn't understand that.  She felt like she should have been with me the whole time holding my hand.  I get that and I can understand what she's saying.  Ultimately though it came down to the fact that I needed to act alone.  I needed to find my own way.  And I needed to be able to stop at anytime without justifying myself to my parents.  I needed to know I was searching for the right reasons.  And to be fair, I only told one person.  And that was the leader of my New Orleans trip.  I wanted to thank him for all his hard work on the trip because it helped me gain some much needed clarity.  Not even Rudy knew.  So it wasn't just her.  It was everyone.  Sometimes it really is just all about me and nobody else.  Just like my mom I'm sure has times when she needs to make it all about her.  It happens to all of us.