M.I.A.

I know I've been M.I.A. for a while. I've been trying to figure out where I am in all this. I've been doing a good job masking things for a while and I'm afraid to open up and let the flood gates in. You know, blogging kind of has a way of doing that! I was going through and reading past entries and came across the "Ask Me Anything" post. I realized I never finished answering questions so I thought I would finish that up, so....

If you could change anything that you have done with regard to reunion, what would it be and why?
I wish I would have talked to a counselor from the very beginning of our reunion. I went into it completely blindsighted...we both did. I don't think anything can prepare you for the reunion rollercoaster, but I do know once I started talking to a counselor (4 years into my reunion), it helped tremendously!

Do you mind being called an "Adoptee"? Have you ever had any thoughts about it?
I've never thought about this one before. I guess I would have to answer with a yes and no. No, I do not mind being called an adoptee because that is, in fact, what I am. However, I do mind at times being called an adoptee because, in the adoption triad, you have the least amount of say about anything pertaining to you. It is beyond frustrating in that regard. But for the most part, an adoptee is what I am, so I have to be ok with it.

When it comes to talking about adoption with your birthmom...did she initiate the talking about the deep stuff or you?
In our first reunion, it was always me that initiated everything.
If you did, would you have preferred that she did instead? YES!! I totally wished she would have some. It made me feel like I was always "bugging" her or dredging up the past that she, clearly, wasn't overly willing to talk about.

What did you want to know most from her?
I mostly wanted to know why she gave me up and if she regretted it. I really wanted to know if she truly loved me and cared about me or if I was just a distant memory once she gave me away.

Is/was there monetary differences / social class differences between your first family and second family? YES, on both accounts.
What if any affect did that have on your comfort level? Was it awkward or important? Does it matter to me that we have some social and monetary differences? Absolutely not. Once I dove into this whole reunion with my mom, all I ever wanted was to be loved by her. I do not care about receiving fancy, expensive gifts or if she drives a nice car or lives in a huge house. None of that matters to me. I love her a lot and I just want to be loved by her.

The above question reinforces one of my biggest frustrations about adoption. In so many instances mom's feel they need to give their child up so they can have a better life...earthly treasures, more or less. Children do not care about those things. If they know they are loved and feel loved, none of the other stuff matters. In my opinion, your time and attention means more than any monetary thing you can buy. All I ever wanted was her love. Nothing else mattered. Honestly and truly. Sometimes, being an adult adoptee leaves you feeling like a grown child...trying to claw your way back into a family that discarded you. Not a fun feeling! That's a whole 'nother issue though! I guess I'll have to save that one for another post!

Hard Cold Facts...in my opinion

As you've noticed, I've been MIA for a while on my blog. I have been super busy, but I also think there's a HUGE let-down after the holidays. It has taken me some time to get back into the mood to do much of anything. I think I'm finally getting back on track...maybe. ;)

I was led back to my blog because I had a few comments that needed to be moderated. One was in reference to this post regarding having second thoughts about obtaining my OBC. The comment is as follows...

Jen and other adoptees:

Has it occurred to you( adoptees _that your aparents were doing the best that they could to shield you from the hard cold FACTS of your birth story?

There are many adoptees of today that don't have the "young teen mom" birth story. Today's bmoms are older and have children already...what makes you think you weren't one of them? Instead of jumping to conclusions, know the facts before you're against adoption or any other thing.

I was going to reply to this within the comments of that post, but really wanted to share it with ALL my lucky readers! I mean...who doesn't want to hear the hard, cold facts??? In response to the comment...

Yes, it has occurred to me that my aparents believed they were doing what was best for me to "shield me from the hard cold facts". However, they were facts about ME and I have the right to know them. In my situation, the only reason my AP's withheld information regarding my adoption was simply because they did not want me to know. They did not want me to find my biological family and made that pretty clear by keeping all documents relating my relinquishment hidden from me. Still, to this day, they are not willing to give me documents they have relating to my adoption. That is not OK. Adoption is very complex and is filled with emotions. First moms and adoptees suffer greatly in adoption. I believe adoptive parents must be prepared for this and should take great pains in helping the child cope. Hiding information from a child, or better yet an ADULT child, is wrong. EVERYONE has a right to know where they come from. PERIOD.

Also, I am not at all sure what parts of my blog you have read. If you've read anything leading up to that particular post, you will know that I have been in reunion with my first mom for over 8 years now. She did have the "young teen mom birth story" coupled with racial issues that unfortunately led to my relinquishment. I am fully aware of who I am to her.

Finally, asking other adoptee's opinions in regard to obtaining my OBC is hardly "jumping to conclusions". I know the facts and have never claimed to be anti-adoption. I do believe there is a place for adoption. There are hundreds of children in the foster care system that need loving families. Adoption has a place. Taking newborns from young, capable, uninformed mother's, in my opinion, is not the place.

I type all of this to say that adoption is not only the simple and wonderful thing many people assume. It is extremely complex, and the experience varies a lot from person to person. Adoption is based first on loss. For a child to gain a new family, they first lose their first family....their birth family. Sometimes it works out for the best, and other times, it goes terribly wrong. There are many possibilities. I do not hate my AP's and the purpose of my blog is not to bash them. I'm sure there are times that I come across that way...guess it depends on my mood. I write to simply share my feelings about my life, gain support, and hopefully help others going through the same situation.

Abortion or Adoption...that is the question

I don't know how many times in my life someone has told me, "You should be so glad that you're adopted. You know, your mom COULD of had an abortion." I have heard that more times then I could possibly begin to count. I grew up believing my mom was so brave and admirable for not aborting me. Instead, she decided to love me, care about me, take care of herself so she, in turn, could take care of me, and THEN give me away. Whether it was at 12 weeks gestation or 2 days postpartum, she still lost me. Is there really a difference?

I have been thinking about this a lot, so I decided to do a little research. What did I find:
Why do women choose abortion?
Three-fourths say that having a baby would interfere with work, school, or other responsibilities; about two-thirds say they cannot afford a child; and half say they do not want to be a single parent or are having problems with their husband or partner.
Why do women choose adoption?
The first situation that leads many pregnant women to consider adoption is the lack of a father figure in her baby’s life; secondly, the mother’s financial situation and the fear that she will struggle handling both her and the baby’s expenses, especially without family support; finally, the mother's desire to continue her education and/or the idea that she is not mature enough to raise a baby.
Is it just me or do you also see the common thread? Although the two are very different, the reasoning behind them are very much the same.

I asked my f mom why she chose to carry me to term. Her mother wanted her to have an abortion, so I wanted to hear why she chose not to. She said that she could not bear to abort me. She thought it was wrong, so she refused to do it. She had every intention of keeping me and raising me on her own, until two weeks before I was born. She realized she was all alone and decided I deserved better then what she could offer. So, she gave me away. She didn't want to, but she did what she felt she had to do.

How many women that have abortions really WANT to do it? In my opinion (and this may be harsh) adoption is a way to consciously (or even morally) feel okay about your decision to lose your baby. I do believe my mom when she tells me that she wanted to keep me...she loved me...she only wanted what was best for me. Do people that have abortions not want or love their baby? Do they feel that they are doing what is best for the child they are carrying? It's something to think about.

I am not posting this to offend any first mom's or women who have had abortions. I realize that every adoption and abortion is not the same. It is something that's been on my mind and I've wondered what others think. I am sure many of you may disagree with some of the things that I have said, and that's okay. I'd love to hear your opinions on the topic. Whether you get what I'm saying or you think I'm way off, I hope you take the time to share.

Second Thoughts

I was wondering how many of you have accessed your adoption records. I have been excited about the possibility of having factual, real information about me. However, as I have started the process to obtain my records, I am suddenly a little nervous about it. I am beginning to wonder if opening this up will also bring about new issues...a whole new list is raiding my mind. Who knows what my adoption records...OBC, court proceedings, agency reports, etc... may disclose? What if I discover more lies? Am I ready to find out?

I have a very strong feeling that my AP's knew more than what they ever disclosed to me throughout my life. I have another VERY strong feeling that they already have a copy of my adoption records. There are little things that I have always known about myself that my nmom said she never shared with anyone. The only way that my AP's could know that information to tell me is if they obtained it from my adoption records.

My AP's, I felt, were always fairly open about my adoption. I knew I was adopted. I knew what my nmom had named me. They told me that my nmom was enrolled at a local community college in her hometown. Several details like that I always knew. However, it was always on their terms. If i ever asked my amom something specific abut my nmom, she would give me a vague answer.

Once, my amom told me when I turned 13 she would give me some information that would tell me more about my nmom. I will never forget my 13th birthday. I was expecdting a big envelope full of information about me, my nmom and ndad, my birth, etc. INstead, my amom was out of town with my sister. I called in my own cake to the local bakery, my adad went and picked it up when he finished working, and we ate it. That was it. That was my 13th birthday. No big envelope. No records. Just a cake that I ordered for myself.

I have a strange sense of loyalty to my AP's. I am angry with them about a lot of things that happened growing up, but I also have a hard time expressing my true feelings to them. You know, the whole...because you took me in and saved me from a life of poverty and despair. Because of that, I have felt like I "owed it to them" to be the good girl...dependable and loyal. I guess that it's paid off to an extent. I am the executor to their estate over their biological children. Bottom line, I am the one that they trust. I'm sure if I was ever really honest with them, this would all be thrown in my face.

I am sure many of you are thinking that it's CRAZY to have second thoughts. I think it's pretty crazy too. So, why am I nervous about it? Well for me, NOTHING with my reunion has gone how I thought it would. I don't think anyone could have prepared me for the emotions involved. That is why I am nervous about opening up my adoption records. I am having second thoughts on whether or not I am ready to "go there" and, unfortunately, I won't know until I do it.

The Stepford life

Do you ever read other people's blogs or hear about another person's life and wonder if they ever have any problems? You know, like the "Stepford family" you see at the park. They arrive in their shiny, newly cleaned and waxed minivan. The doors open and mom, dad, big brother and little sister step out, laughing. Brother and sister run to the swings calling out for dad to give them a push. Mom urges dad to go while she lays the blanket out onto the grass and starts unpacking their picnic lunch. You hear their giggles and see their smiles and think of how lucky they are to have THAT.

As your cheeks start burning with envy, you are pulled back into your reality...YOUR life. Your littlest fell off the jungle gym while you were jealously watching the Stepford family. She's screaming, you're trying to soothe her....meanwhile, your other two children are fighting over the last drink out of the only water bottle you brought. You meant to grab drinks for everyone, but forgot because you were trying to just remember all your children as you were heading out the door. Frustrated that you can't calm your baby and irritated that your others are fighting, you decide to call it quits and head home. Your baby is still screaming, your middle child is throwing a fit because he doesn't want to leave, and your oldest is pouting because you made her give up the last drink of water so ONE of your other two would quit screaming. As your piling your kids back into your dirty, cluttered van, you glance back over at the Stepford family that is now laughing and enjoying their picnic in the park. There, just for a moment, you wish that you had THAT.

The next day, you go to church with your family. Afterwards, you go eat at your favorite restaurant. The kids are behaving AMAZINGLY well. You and hubby enjoy your time talking to each other while the kids are quietly coloring their kids menus and patiently waiting for the food to come. They look so sweet and charming dressed in their Sunday best. The waiter even comments on how well-behaved your children are. You and hubby enjoy the time together as a family. You make plans for the week. Talk about the kids' schedules and work schedules. You laugh at the cute comments your precious little ones are making. It's a great time.

A couple tables away, a mom is there by herself with her two children. The kids are arguing because the food is taking too long. The oldest is mad at mom because she made him order off the kids menu because it was cheaper. The youngest starts pestering big brother and, in the process, knocks her drink over onto mom's new coat. Mom, about to lose her temper, turns and takes a deep breath and slowly starts counting to ten. As she's counting, she sees your family. Mom and dad together, laughing and talking. Three beautiful, well-behaved children. Tears begin to burn her eyes as she wishes, just for a moment, that she had THAT.

Even in the crazy world of adoption, we all have our Stepford moments. Believe it or not, each of us have had some moment where things seemed to be perfect in the eye of a complete stranger. SOme of you may be laughing at this point, but it's true. The outside is not always what it seems...good or bad. I've definitely had those moments where I've read something and wished, for that moment, that I had THAT. Like when I read the latest blog entry of the "Stepford AP's" that spend the holidays and plan vacations with their little adoptlings first mom. Oh, how I wish I could of had that.

I wish that I could be excited when my nmom plans something with me and not afraid that it's not going to happen. I wish that I wasn't paranoid every time she's a day late in returning a phone call that she's backing away from me again. I wish that it felt natural to call her mom or have my children call her grandma. I wish that I wasn't googling my ndad and spending hours looking at pictures of my half siblings that I will probably never know. I wish that things were different, but their not.

So, my point in all of this is that we all have our moments. Just keep in mind when you get to feeling jealous, and wishing that you had someone else's life...they very well may be wishing the same thing about yours. What would we do without the Stepford's? I guess it keeps us dreaming and everyone needs a dream.

My wish

I am not a huge country music fan, but I really like Rascal Flatts. This song, in particular, is one of my favorites. Ironically enough, my mom brought this song up not that long ago. She said she fell in love with it when it came out because it always made her think of me.

She has shared so much this second time around. How much she has always loved me. How she wishes she would have chose to keep me. She has told me that more than anything she wished she would have listened to her heart instead of the people that were literally taking me away from her.

There have been so many times that I have wished that things were different. I used to think if I could have one wish, it would be to see the future. The only reason I would want to see the future is to know if the choice I'm facing is going to end with disappointment or sadness. Who wouldn't want to choose the smoother road? I'm slowly learning that the bumpy roads hurt, but they're the ones that we learn the most from. No one said it would be easy, right?

I have been asked so many times, "If you had to do it all over again..." in regards to my reunion. Even knowing now what I was going to go through...the silence, hurt, sadness, anger, resentment, fear, frustration, confusion, etc...I would choose to do it all over again. Why? Because had I chose the smoother road, at the time, I never would have got to feel what it was like to be loved by my mother. To me, even if it was only for a while, it was worth it.

What are you?

My daughter had a soccer game today and there are a few new players. I was introducing myself to some of the new mom's and welcoming them to the team. You know, just trying to be hospitable and all. Anyway, as I was shaking one particular mom's hand and telling her my name, my daughter's name...etc, she pulled me into her just a bit, looked me in the eyes and said, "What are you?"

Any of you confused? Well, I wasn't because it's about the millionth time in my life I have been asked that question. I've always thought it was kind of an odd question, and as a child the first time someone asked me that I was totally caught off guard. I've become fairly creative over the years on how I choose to answer that particular question. I mean, other than having my ethnicity tatooed across my forehead, I've had to think of some way to "explain myself" to the curious.

Fortunately for me, I was raised in a family where my amother was black and my adad was white. That is one positive thing I can most definitely say about my placement. I didn't stand out like a sore thumb amongst the rest of my family. As a matter of fact, I have been told on many occasions that I look "just like my sister" or my brother and I could "practically be twins".

Crazy! The random people that I come into contact with in my day to day life wondering what I am...well, I have an easy response for them. But you...how do you feel about that very same question? If you were asked, "What are you?", what would your answer be?

Ask me anything....well, ALMOST anything :)

I have enjoyed a little blogging hiatus, but am slowly getting back into the swing of things. School has started, and even though I am very, very busy, I must say that I truly enjoy the time I have to sit, catch up on old blogs, and blog myself. I was told by a therapist that blogging would be a very good outlet for me. She could not be any closer to the truth. I do enjoy it and it's better than journaling because I almost always get feedback! Yay! :)

Anyway, my good friend Christina gave me the idea to do a little "ask me anything" post. I say ALMOST anything jokingly. I really don't mind answering any questions. Now if we were having this conversation one on one, that may be a little different! But since I don't have to look you in the eye and admit how twisted and warped I truly am, I'm game for whatever! So, I digress...I have received several e-mails over the past few months about me, adoption, feelings, etc and I have happily answered them. However, I was thinking that this could be a great time to let everyone get in on a little therapy session. You never know when someone else may be wondering the answers to the very same question(s) you've asked, but didn't want to ask themselves. I want everyone to be heard. This journey pretty much sucks a large portion of the time, but if I can use my experience to help others I don't feel like the roller coaster of emotions ware all for nothing! :)

So...any burning questions out there???? If you could ask me any question, what would it be?Ask away, and in a day or two I'll gladly answer them the best that I can! Fire away...

From Where We Came

About 5 years ago, my adad started doing a lot of family history research. He decided that all of his children needed to know where they came from. He found cousins that he never knew and learned all about great, great great, great great great and even great great great great grandparents, aunts, uncles, etc. He compiled all of his hours of research into these binders with pictures and biographical information and gave each of his kids one for Christmas one year. The binders were titled "From Where We Came". He was so proud of them...and he should have been. He put a lot of work into it. The binders were very informative. He felt so strongly that his children needed all of this information so they could know about their genealogy and where they came. I agree. I was just waiting for him to pull out MY binder with MY genealogy in it. Lucky for me, I didn't hold my breath.

That Christmas, I will never forget sitting down with my brother and sister and flipping through the pages of Great Great Great Grandpa George and his brother Fred and Fred's wife Helen and their 8 children.... As everyone was oohing and awing over their family, I couldn't help but feel more and more separate from them. The more pictures we looked at and the more information I read, the heavier my heart felt. The more curious I became. I wanted to know about MY genes, MY family and where I came from. But, I never said a word. I just quietly flipped through the pages of another family's history and imagined what it would be like to know half of this information about my own.

Since my re-reunion with my mom, I have kept my kids out of it, for the most part. I was a little skeptical if this was for real or not, so I wanted to give it some time before I got them involved. I can risk being hurt, but I try my best to protect my children.

I have talked to my oldest about my mom. She still vaguely remembers her. She talks about her dog and jumping on the trampoline and playing with her older cousins at her mom's house. She knows that she's my mom and I grew in her tummy. She seems to get all that. Well, my daughter's birthday was a month ago and my mom sent her a gift. I was surprised at my daughter's reaction to the gift. Not so much the gift itself, but who it was from. She was thrilled to be receiving something from her natural grandmother. She told me several times that she could not believe that she remembered her and she needed to send her a thank you note. A week or so later we were with my amom and my daughter brings up the gift she got from her "other grandma". I cringed when I heard her start talking about it because I knew the direction it would take. I was just waiting for my mom to blow up. But, she didn't. Right then and there, my daughter starts asking more questions about her, why she didn't keep me, where has she been all these years, and so on. I answered them and my amom just quietly listened. My daughter ended the conversation by saying that we really need to go see her. Wow! Like they say..."Out of the mouths of babes..." I'm sure that will not be the end of it, as far as a reaction from my amom, but I'm also glad my daughter brought it up. I'm glad that she was not afraid to speak up, ask questions, and be heard.

I say this a lot, but it's so, so true. There are too many times in my life that I want to scream out loud how much I hate adoption. Whether it's sitting on the couch staring at someone elses family tree or explaining to my daughter why my own mother couldn't keep me, the conversations and confusion that arise due to it never, ever end. It affects so many people. The bottom line?...EVERYONE wants to know where they come from and who their family is. Even as children, everyone is curious. Not that it's a new revalation for me. It's always been important to me. However, unlike my daughter, I was always too scared to speak up. I never had a voice of my own, but I'm so glad that she does and I'm even more glad that she's not afraid to be heard.

A brand new end

I am not a huge John Mayer fan, but I am a huge fan of music. No matter the mood, be it happy, sad, mad or glad, I can find a song that fits. With that said, I have loved the lyrics to his song, "Say". It has been one of the many anthems in my "re"reunion. One of my favorite verses from the song is, "Have no fear for giving in. Have no fear for giving over. You better know that in the end, it's better to say too much than never to say what you need to say again." I have always had a problem expressing my feelings to others. I grew up in a home that didn't really allow for that, so I don't know if it's a learned behavior or if it's just my personality. My guess is a little of both. Whatever the cause, it is a huge struggle of mine.

After the funeral, I more or less was prepared for my birth mom to slowly drift back out of my life. However, that did not happen. It was actually the complete opposite. She would call me about every other night. We would talk for quite a while, sometimes a couple of hours or more, about anything and everything. We talked about us a lot. She was a lot more forthcoming about her emotions. She talked repeatedly about feeling so guilty for giving me up, but she never really addressed the years of silence. Judging by some of the things she said in our conversations, I could piece together different reasons, but I really needed to hear from her what happened. I didn't want to guess, I wanted to know. Every conversation we had, I wondered if it was the last one for a while. I was tired of living with that fear that she was going to walk out of my life again.

As much as I wanted to just come out and ask her, I was afraid of how she would respond. Would it make her mad? Would she tell me I was being selfish just thinking of myself after her mom just died tragically? Would she hang up on me and never call again? Regardless of my fears, I had to know. I didn't want another conversation to go by without finding out what happened. I didn't want to make the same mistakes again. So, I finally got the nerves to say what I needed to say. Finally.

When I asked her what happened she took a deep breath, followed by another one, and then there was a long pause on the phone. I asked her if she was OK, and she said yes. I could tell she was crying. I quietly started crying as she explained. It basically was all the things I had assumed. Her husband did not know about me and when she told him, he was very upset. Not so much about me, but the fact that my biological father was who he was...a black man. (I guess some things never change.) He gave her a very hard time about that. She also said that she had an overwhelming amount of guilt and sadness about not being there for me. That she gave me away and let total strangers raise me. The fact that she missed it all. She said it was, and still is, very overwhelming.

So, I asked her if all of that was the cause, how was I to believe that things would be better this time around? The feelings were still there, why did she think she could "handle it" now? Again, long pause, deep breaths, lots of tears, followed with another explanation. She told me that she knew she was wrong. She was so disappointed in herself for how she handled our relationship and even during the time she was not talking to me, she thought about me every single day. She said my entire life, a day never went by where she did not think about me several times. She said that losing her mom was a huge wake-up call for her because it happened so quickly and without warning. She did not want something to happen to me and for me to not know how much I meant to her and how much she loved me and always has.

My birth mom and I are alike in so many ways it is often freaky. I don't know how many times I have wondered how you can be so much like a person you spent the majority of your informative years away from. Our similarities are good and bad. One of the bad ones is our lack to truly express how we're feeling. This time around, we have talked about this particular flaw and have vowed to share our feelings with each other and not hold anything back. So far, it has gone very well. I love sharing my life with her. I think we both have our moments where we think about what could have been. Those times are sad, but I'm trying my hardest to move beyond the past. I think my birth mom said it best. She said that no one can go back and make a brand new start, but anyone can start from now and make a brand new end. I'm really counting on it.

Speak up now, please!

I have mentioned on my blog before that I speak occasionally at a local university on the topic of adoption. The class itself is entitled, "Issues in Adoption". The majority of the students enrolled are seeking to become social workers.

The professor of the class, D, is a family friend we got to know through church. At one time, she worked for a private adoption agency. She married and divorced never having children. She later adopted two children (not related) from Guatemala and was a single mom. I babysat for her when I was in high school and through college on a very regular basis. I was more or less a nanny to her boys.

Over the years, we formed a very close relationship. When I babysat and she would come home from work late in the evenings, I would stay at her house for another 2-3 hours just talking. She was very open minded and would talk to me about being adopted, my feelings, my thoughts towards my aparents and siblings, etc. She made me feel like it was okay to have a curiosity about my heredity. Growing up, I always knew I was adopted, but it was more or less just the giant elephant in the room. I never really felt like it was okay to talk about it. Needless to say, she was a godsend through a very informative part of my life.

D asked me several years ago, before I was in reunion, if I would be interested in coming to speak to her class. My first thought was "No, way!", simply because I am not a public speaker. The thought of a room full of strangers staring at me while I shared my adoption story made me cringe. However, D would not let up. She would ask each time a new semester started...4 times a year (counting the 2 summer sessions) to be exact! After about a year of asking, I gave in. How hard could it be?

The first time that I went to speak, I was still in major denial about any and all feelings I had adoption related. I went and shared with the class my feelings about my birth mom...how wonderful and brave she must have been to not abort me but instead make the ultimate sacrifice just so I could have a better life...a life she could not provide me...a life free from racial prejudice and an unsupportive extended family. I continued on with how I grew up in a financially stable home, I didn't 'stick out' in the family photo album, I had a great childhood, I grew up going to church, I went to college on a basketball scholarship, met a great guy, got married, had children...I had it all. What more could I have asked for in life? THAT was my story that I shared. And what's so sad is that I actually believed it. That is what I grew up believing my entire life. I am actually embarrassed to even post it, but it's the truth and I'm not going to stray from it..however ugly it may be!

At the end of my spiel, it's open to the class to ask questions. They asked all kinds of very personal questions, but I of course answered them with the textbook, "I'm a very happy, fortunate adoptee that was 'saved' by a wonderful, loving family" answer. Kind of sickening when I think about it. Anyway..this went on for a couple of years. During that time was when my birth mom 'found' me. After we were in reunion for a couple of years, she even went with me and spoke from a birth mother's point of view. I shared my fairytale adoption/reunion story, while she shared her story of unspeakable loss to happy ever after now that she had me in her life. I got to where I really liked going. It was fake therapy at it's finest. The more often I went and shared how wonderful my life was, the better I felt about being an adoptee. That was until the day I was asked one too many questions.

The kid was only in the class because he needed 3 more credits and thought that class would be easy. He would be the one to ask a question that left me speechless. At the time, my birth mom had rejected me...again. She was actually supposed to be at the class to speak with me but never showed up so I went alone. I wasn't in the best frame of mind, but had promised D I would be there and I am NOT a promise breaker. I went through the routine...life is great, I'm so fortunate, blah, blah, blah...and then started taking questions at the end. I was getting ready to wrap up when his hand shot up in the air. It was like he just had an epiphany or something. I called on him and he said, "Are you really as happy as you say that you are? Something about you tells me there is more to the story than you're sharing. I'm only here because I have to be, but something about your story makes me want to stay longer because I want to hear more. I want to hear the whole truth." OMG...you could have heard a pin drop. I was speechless. After a couple of minutes, and YES, it was a couple of minutes so it felt like an hour, I told him something along the lines of everyones life has things they wished were different, but overall I was happy and that was it. It was a bunch of BS...he knew it, I knew it, for all I knew everyone knew it...but I wasn't ready to admit it.

I left as soon as I could with D following after me while she let the class have a 10minute break. She wanted to talk, but I told her I was fine. The question just caught me off guard. I could tell that she too knew I was a fraud. There was nothing legit to my story. I fought hard to keep myself composed and left the campus. I haven't been back since. How in the world could I share my experience when I couldn't admit the truth. The class was supposed to teach the students about issues in adoption. What help was I when I was just pretending that there are none. I was humiliated and so disappointed in myself.

Well, it has been almost 3 years since that dreadful, eye opening day. D called today and has asked me to come speak to her class in August. I have agreed. However, this time I am going to tell the whole truth...no matter how hard it might be. I never realized how big of an opportunity I had until it was brought to my attention that I was being a fake.

I have a month, but I am preparing now. I would appreciate your help. If you could share one thing with this group of students about adoption, what would it be? The purpose of the class is to teach about adoption issues. We all have them. I do not know one person affected by adoption that does not. So...speak up now, please! I'm listening and ready to share.

Everyone needs an outlet...

I am hoping this blog becomes mine. The place that I can come to share my innermost thoughts, dreams, and fears. I am living a life that I sometimes do not know how to survive. On the outside, I have it all...my college sweetheart, picture-perfect children, a successful career, loving friends and family, a comfortable life...you get the picture. However, on the inside, I feel weak, helpless, and oftentimes, unlovable.

Over the years, I have discovered that being adopted has left me with many emotional scars. Scars that I never knew existed. I grew up knowing I was adopted, but I was pretty sure that I knew I was loved. I didn't realize how, deep inside, I longed for my birthmom. I longed for the woman who carried me for 9 months...fought for me, cried for me, wanted me to have more then she knew she could give me. I had no idea how much I longed for her, until she became a part of my life. At the age of 24, you figure out pretty quick that this is not a journey for the weak. This journey comes without an instruction book. Just faith and prayer that you will figure it out.

My faith got me through many dark hours, but I guess you get to a point where it feels like you do not have anymore left in you. Nothing to sustain you. However, by the grace of God, I will get through this valley and come out a better person on the other side.

Over the course of the next few days, weeks, maybe even months, I will share my story piece by piece. No one can understand the feelings associated with this kind of love unless they have been there. Thank you for following along and walking this road with me.