Told you so.

I talked to our a.doption so.cial w.ork.er yesterday.  They had told us to come back to them if we ever encountered any issues.  Considering the therapies that Blue will require, I figured it was at least worth a shot to see what services they could offer up.  I never expected an email back stating what we had really kind of known (through the words of the people that took Blue home from the hospital,) that his biological mother was an addict.  The conversation went as far as to say she admitted it, used while pregnant, and that Blue was born addicted.  As in my son had to go through withdrawal and not a damn soul at s.oc.ial s.erv.ices saw fit to let me know this.  I’m not sure if I was more pissed, shocked, hurt, dumbfounded, or what.  It sure as hell explains a lot.

It would not have changed our decision to adopt our son.  We were the third or fourth couple they asked.  Perhaps they told the truth to the first few couples, and when they got to us they were desperate?  It’s still not a good excuse.  So, we were given some instructions (although quite vague) on how to continue.  I will say that a link that a girlfriend of mine sent me was more informative.  That same girlfriend and I want our so.ci.al w.orker.s jobs’.  We can lie, not show up, not return phone calls, ignore emails, and overall be incompetent, and still have our job.  This is by no means a sweeping judgment of all workers.  I am sure there are a great many who do a wonderful job, and heaven knows we need more of them who actually care about the job despite it’s very difficult nature.

Seriously, how can you not be straightforward about something like this?

Feeling

Today I was sent a request on F.ac.ebook.  While there is nothing noteworthy about that fact, there was regarding who sent it.  If you can rewind to four years ago, you may or may not (most likely not) remember that we were going to adopt a two year old little girl.  I met her at a family function (long story,) and instantly fell in love with her.  She was in the system (so to speak.)  She was up for adoption, and we were the front runners.  When I looked into her eyes, I saw light, love, and me.

Many many turns of events later, it turns out that it wasn’t meant to be.  She stayed with the other family.  Whether this was for the best is definitely up for debate.  One that I won’t get into, because it would be a waste of time and energy.  Sometimes life just doesn’t make sense, and to try to make it make sense is futile.  The friend request was from the mother who has her.  Today I clicked through her pictures, and it hurt a bit.  She looks like the carbon copy of me when I was her age.

I decided a while back that I was going to feel my way through infertility.  I wasn’t going to shut down and close off like I did in the beginning.  I feel what it is I think I need to feel without regret or guilt.  If I had to go back in time, I would make every decision that I’ve made on this crazy journey just as I have.  I’m confident in the choices I’ve made.  I’ve had to mourn the loss of genetically related children. That proved to be easier than I thought.  The genetic link didn’t mean much.  I mean, do they really want my family history of alcoholism and heart disease?  Didn’t think so.  I had to mourn the fact that they don’t look like me.  Instead I have acting so much like me that it’s insane.  Yet, it hurt just the same to see a little me on the screen.

I think it’s ok to hurt, to work through the sting.  To deny the feelings would be worse.  I find it more healing to go, hmmm…now that stirred up some emotion.  How about I work through that.  I could have a biological child with my husband and it still look just like Pink.  So, that’s not the issue.  It’s the loss of that specific child.  I never really allowed myself to feel it in many respects.  It doesn’t help that her placement isn’t desirable.  I guess I would have rather not known.  You know, head in the sand?  Alas, now I do.  Now, what to do with that.  How to work through it?

Shit

Damn, if the therapy isn’t covered by my insurance.  Because you know I just have over $400 just laying around for this and all.  #$%@#%$@$^@.  I need a freakin’ margarita.

Thoughts

I will never know what an open adoption feels like, and so I won’t even attempt to go there.  What I will say is that after Blue’s appointment yesterday, the first person I called (other than his dad) was hmm…thinking of an equivalent.  A pivotal part of Blue’s life before we took him home, that’s the best way to describe M.  It was a first instinct.  I know how much she loves him, how honest I could be with her, and it was comforting.  I’ve grown to deeply care about her, and she’s most likely reading these words.  She has this blog address, when my mom (and admitted best friend) doesn’t even have it.  I’m lucky to count her as a friend, and Blue’s lucky to have her in his life.

We got word that Blue would be needing a great deal of help for many different physical issues.  A part of me broke a bit upon hearing it.  My “perfect” little boy was just a bit broken.  It’s my role to make sure that while his body might need a bit of repair, his spirit will always remain in tact.  His light will continue shining, he will persevere.  As that small part of me broke, some hatred crept in.  As much as I tried to shove it to the far corners of my being, it was still there.  The woman whom I’ve done my best to be nothing but thankful to, the woman that gave my son life, was the object of my furry.  She did this to him.  She was the one that did drugs that harmed my baby.  She was the one who created these issues.  How could she?

It was in that moment, that it more than any other time, struck me….I needed to accept the fact that this woman had no real love for my son.  That’s it’s ok to not like her, and that she’s not necessarily a good person simply because she didn’t have an abortion.  I can respect her for giving him life, and find her a lousy human being for hurting my unborn child.   I guess sometimes we have to break down to get all fixed up.  Blue and I are both working on mending.

Decisions and Such

Well, I thought about it for some time, and I decided to let them know I was going to be in the area.  However, this time I was more firm in my wishes.  If you want to see me, you will have to come to where I am.  It has to be on this day and around this time.  After all, I am the one who drove here and has small children.  They more than happily complied.  We’ve planned to meet for an early dinner, and then we will all go our separate ways.  This sounds like the best way for all of us to enjoy ourselves.

This should be a very interesting wedding I’m going to.  My cousin has been with her soon to be husband for a very very long time.  Think more than two hands in years.  There’s numerous reasons, but suffice to say I’m glad they are.  It’s really sweet.  They’ve been through a great deal, and I’m really looking forward to them having a nice wedding.  It’s unfortunate that things have been very topsy turvy for them with their child lately.  I’m hoping for a drama free wedding.  What’s tricky is that only a fraction of the family even knows about the wedding.  The ones that do are to not tell the ones that don’t.  Oh family politics are grand.  I 100% agree with not inviting the ones that don’t know about it. It’s for very good reasons. It’s just odd not being able to mention it on places like FB and not putting pictures from it on my kids’ site.

I won’t have internet access while I’m gone, but will update when I get home on next Monday the 18th.

To or Not To

I’m headed to Florida this weekend for a family wedding.  The big debate in my head is whether or not to see my biological father.  Sometimes that seems to be even too much credit to the guy.  That’s another story though.  Cue urban warfare brain wave activity.

When you just know.

When you just know the sh!t is going to hit the fan, you can’t help but brace for impact.  I thought everything was going pretty well with my in-laws and such.  I guess we were all ignoring the giant elephant in the room in honor of the holidays and such.  I probably never should have asked if they planned on visiting.  I just like to be prepared.  I was mapping out our year, a vacation at this time here, a weekend away there.  You know.  I was basically told with all that is coming up in January, they just didn’t know when they would be able to visit next.  I saw that coming.  I don’t think my husband did though.  Strike that, perhaps he did.  Regardless, I believe that is when it all went belly up.  The catch is that nobody knows it yet.

I was planning out our budget, reworking things.  I was fitting in the support money that I believed would be going to my sister in-law, until I was informed by my husband that his family wasn’t going to be receiving a dime of our money.  I stopped dead in my tracks.  This came from my husband who previously was insistent that we dedicate a bit more money than what I believed we should hand over.  Legally, we don’t have to pay anybody anything.  Sounds strange, but that’s what the lawyers say.  So, the only way for my sister in-law or anybody else to get money from us would be to sue us.  Please oh please, don’t let things get that ugly.  When I gently asked why we would no longer be offering money, he told me that our family was going to come first.  I’m so confused right now.  I’m guessing there is far too many emotions involved in this one for me to fully take an accurate guess.

Is my husband just plain fed up?  I wouldn’t blame him.  It’s been an insane ride, with the daughter he doesn’t believe is actually his saga, pushing every button he has.  Is it a protective measure, in that he feels that if his parents can’t be bothered with our two children, then to hell with it?  Is he testing them?  *sigh*  Now, I feel like I must act like a well trained athlete.  How to best keep as much peace as possible in this house.  How to hold my husband’s hand, gently trying to understand and support him.  How to keep my children sane when things start to get heated.  I know they will.  Money has a way of doing that.  I see a lot more phone calls pressuring my husband to pony up money, and to step up and claim himself as the long lost little girl’s knight in shining armor father.  When that doesn’t happen, not only will my husband be told how lousy he is, but my children will once again become forgotten by them.  I have my own feelings about that.

Just over two weeks away starts the craziness.  I’m not ready.

And so on.

On my main blog, the one everybody and their brother knows about, I’ve decided to post daily.  So, you can expect a bunch of randomness over there.  I just thought I should say that I plan to continue writing over here about the deeper more personal issues.  You know where I admit that I cried my ever lovin’ eyes out last night while watching A Home for the Holidays and such.  Yes, I actually did.  I couldn’t help it.  The way one of the performers looked at his mom, seeing that he is adopted and biracial and was raised by white parents, I couldn’t help but think of my little Blue.  Instant tears.

Anyway, it’s Christmas Eve and there is baking to be done.  Off to it.

Date Set

A court date has been set for my husband’s biological daughter’s guardianship hearing.  If you don’t know the back story, I will put it up on a tab (if I can find five seconds) at the top of this page.  I appears that my husband’s sister  and her husband will be the one who will be caring for her.  I’m a bit apprehensive about how family relationships will work when all of this plays out.  It’s as if I’m waiting for the second shoe to drop.  It’s just a matter of time.  Money is brought up every conversation with my in-laws when the situation is discussed.  I just don’t see this ending well.  I really really do want harmony though, for my kids’ sake.

Skewed

I went into the place that sold my parents my camera to upload some pictures on to their site.  My mom and I plunked ourselves down in front of the computer and within minutes we had all 1,200 plus pictures I snapped while on vacation.  Ok, so I didn’t take them all.  All of us had a hand in the process.  It’s the rule of numbers, snap a thousand hope for one good one.  Anyway, the woman who worked there was showing us the ropes.  Press here, do this, skip that, etc. 

As we were sitting there, she started to ooh and ahhh over pictures of Blue.  His happiness shines through in a big beaming smile.  Well, you could tell she was dying to ask the question.  It’s the question everybody wants to ask.  Just how he came to be my son.  I let her off the hook, since he was not there with us, and said nonchalantly my husband and I adopted.  Then, quickly moved back into conversation with my mom about the pictures.  Then, popped up a picture of Pink.  She let out round two of ooohs and aaaahhs. 

Can you feel it coming?  I know you do.  “So, you had one of your own too?” she questioned.  Here is the pivotal moment.  It’s the moment where I breathe in and out, and tackle this all too often comment once again.  My very even toned response, “Nope, they are both mine.”  There is no reason for me to call all kinds of crazy on every person who uses incorrect adoption language, but at the same time it is a bit frustrating to play the role of teacher to society.  I just hope that every time I keep my cool and calmly explain or correct gently, that that person catches my drift.  Please oh please, let my patience not be in vain.

What strikes me is that I don’t see the differences.  I forget that they are “different.”  They are just my children, and so I often get annoyed that others pay so much attention to it.  So, when shows like the dreaded  one on ABC skew adoptive issues such as reunion and use incorrect adoption language, I just about blow my lid.  Last week’s epsode left me in tears, partly due to their programming and partly due to some serious PMS.  The host an adopted man himself said, “Go meet your Dad.”  Cue tears.  If my son ever called somebody else Mom, I think I just might come a bit unglued.  It’s not insecurity.  I’m quite secure in my role.  I think it’s more of a respect issue. 

My mom lost her mom when she was pregnant with me quite young.  She has never called my grandmother “Mom.”  She always says that she has a mom, and that the name is special.  My mom is very special to me.  So is my dad for that matter.  When I was reunited with my biological father (whom I hadn’t seen since I was 2 or younger,) I would NEVER dream of calling him dad.  That title is reserved for the man who raised me, the one who wiped my tears, taught me to drive, took scuba diving classes with me, balked at my prom dresses, drilled my boyfriends, and took me to my college orientation. 

My dad adopted me when I was young.  This didn’t stop me from thinking about my biological father, and yes I had many questions.  I understand wanting to be reunited, and would stand by my son if he ever wanted to track down his biological mother.  I would hold his hand just like my mom did mine.  Although, Blue’s biological mother demanded a closed adoption.  (That makes me sad for him.)  What I don’t understand is why they are representing reunion the way they are.  They are making it dramatic as all hell.  Trust me it is, but not the way they are selling it.  How is America to understand adoption, if the media keeps getting it so wrong?  How are adoptees supposed to feel when this crap is airing?  My least favorite line from the show, “It’s every adoptees dream come true to be reunited with their family.”  Cue pissed as all f*cking hell me.  Assumptive much? 

I should end here, because I could go on much further with this….perhaps later.