I'm joining in the Grown In My Heart website's Adoption Carnival again. This time it's all about Adoption Reform and what it means to each person. Here are my thoughts...
Honestly, I've always "talked the big talk" when it comes to reform. Always advocating for it, but never doing anything about it. Hypocritical much? Maybe. I think I've always just figured that others will do it for me…and never took the initiative.
Recently, I decided that it was time for me to stop pussyfooting around the issue of adoption reform and help out my fellow adoptees (and other sympathetic natural parents and adoptive parents) by getting involved. I'm going to be researching the adoption reform laws for my home state and compiling a "report" that can be used to forward the cause.
I want every adoptee to have equal, unfettered access to their original birth certificates. I find it horrifying that it's possible to change a birth certificate to show two unrelated people as having genetic ties to a child. It's just not right. Since I know that for now, adoption is a necessary evil, I'd rather see a separate legal document showing that the child has been adopted, rather than falsifying another legal piece of paper.
I want every adoptee to have equal, unfettered access to his/her medical history. If I hadn't been reunited with my natural mother and family, I would have NEVER KNOWN that Alzheimer's Disease runs in my family…that cancer is part of my history and has claimed many of my family members. Imagine yourself going to the doctor's office and for 34 out of 35 years, having to write down that you have no clue about your medical background and seeing the doctor write down "Patient Is Adopted..No History". No history?? But in actuality, there IS history…I'm just not allowed to know it.
My wish list for reform is endless…and the challenges ahead many. It's a daunting task that faces the Reform Warriors…but I'm proud to say that I'm standing up and standing proud and am ready to face the battles ahead.
Friday, January 29, 2010
Sunday, January 24, 2010
This Is What Got My Panties In A Bunch
Just in case anyone doubted me when I blogged below about 'jewinthesun'..I was able to google her site, even though it's private now, and am pasting her words for all to see...
Stork Free
The Anti-Adoption Movement
January 22, 2010
Yes, there is one, and here was my reply to one idiot’s blog posting. I can’t believe these people exist, but there’s a reason most adoptions fail:
I am usually the type of person that leaves people to their own opinons, but the vitriol in your post is maniacal at best. Sounds like you’re an extremely bitter adoptee who could use some serious emotional counseling to come to terms with your adoption. Birth has nothing to do with parenthood. For every story you throw out there, there are a hundred more of abused, unwanted children being raised by parents who had no business having children. Any state agency can tell you that. Have you ever been through the adoption process? Ever experienced infertility? Ever just decided to adopt because you wanted to give a child a better life than foster care? I don’t believe the answer to any of my questions will be “yes.” Your parents that raised you must be so proud of your disregard. Adoption is not a baby business, so it would behoove you to do some research. Adoption costs are tied to legal fees, social services, background checks. The black market baby days of the 1950’s are long over. I worked for an adoption agency, and I never saw anyone forced to give up their children, railroaded into the decision, or anything of the like. What I did see were scared young women who felt like they could not raise a child making a very unselfish decision to try and give their baby a life they could not provide. We all go through things in life in which we’re told to be grateful things aren’t worse. It’s life, and no one chose to be born. What we can do is make the best of it, and play the cards we’re dealt. You attempting to stop other people from placing their babies or people from adopting won’t change the fact that you were adopted, no matter how hard you try.
Her words really speak for themselves, don't they? Is it any wonder I couldn't contain myself from commenting??
Stork Free
The Anti-Adoption Movement
January 22, 2010
Yes, there is one, and here was my reply to one idiot’s blog posting. I can’t believe these people exist, but there’s a reason most adoptions fail:
I am usually the type of person that leaves people to their own opinons, but the vitriol in your post is maniacal at best. Sounds like you’re an extremely bitter adoptee who could use some serious emotional counseling to come to terms with your adoption. Birth has nothing to do with parenthood. For every story you throw out there, there are a hundred more of abused, unwanted children being raised by parents who had no business having children. Any state agency can tell you that. Have you ever been through the adoption process? Ever experienced infertility? Ever just decided to adopt because you wanted to give a child a better life than foster care? I don’t believe the answer to any of my questions will be “yes.” Your parents that raised you must be so proud of your disregard. Adoption is not a baby business, so it would behoove you to do some research. Adoption costs are tied to legal fees, social services, background checks. The black market baby days of the 1950’s are long over. I worked for an adoption agency, and I never saw anyone forced to give up their children, railroaded into the decision, or anything of the like. What I did see were scared young women who felt like they could not raise a child making a very unselfish decision to try and give their baby a life they could not provide. We all go through things in life in which we’re told to be grateful things aren’t worse. It’s life, and no one chose to be born. What we can do is make the best of it, and play the cards we’re dealt. You attempting to stop other people from placing their babies or people from adopting won’t change the fact that you were adopted, no matter how hard you try.
Her words really speak for themselves, don't they? Is it any wonder I couldn't contain myself from commenting??
Friday, January 22, 2010
Somebody Slap Me...Hard
Sigh. I commented on a blog this morning. I know..I know…BAD CHRISTINA. The problem is, immediately afterwards the blog went private so I can't recall my exact words..but I did get notification that the author of the blog had commented back..with this little gem:
jewinthesun said on The Anti-Adoption Movement
January 22, 2010 at 3:54 am
How dare you assume that I may abuse my daughter? although you had a terrible parenting experience, I’m sure my daughter is better off with us than her cocaine addled father and unemployed teenage mother. What I have found as an adoptee and adoptive parent, is that those adoptees that didn’t grow up in the most wonderful of homes and don’t know their birth parents have romanticized knowing their birth parents in their heads. The truth is, they didn’t feel they could raise you. Its a sense of loss, but one you have to cope with and get over.
In response to this, since I can't comment back on the blog (and because I don't think I linked to this blog when I did comment there), I'm going to respond and just keep checking back with her to see if she's gone un-private.
To jewinthesun:
First of all, I never assumed you might abuse your daughter. Where the heck you got that out of my comment, I have no idea. My point was never that your adopted child would be better off with her natural parents…simply that she will experience loss..it's just a fact. If you as an adoptee have not experienced that loss, then I am truly happy for you…but that's not the norm for most of us. I also said that you shouldn't dismiss anti-adoption blogs because one day, your child might just be one of the authors of one of them…you should read as many of them as you can so that you are better prepared for the day when your child becomes an adult and may start to question her beginnings.
jewinthesun said on The Anti-Adoption Movement
January 22, 2010 at 3:54 am
How dare you assume that I may abuse my daughter? although you had a terrible parenting experience, I’m sure my daughter is better off with us than her cocaine addled father and unemployed teenage mother. What I have found as an adoptee and adoptive parent, is that those adoptees that didn’t grow up in the most wonderful of homes and don’t know their birth parents have romanticized knowing their birth parents in their heads. The truth is, they didn’t feel they could raise you. Its a sense of loss, but one you have to cope with and get over.
In response to this, since I can't comment back on the blog (and because I don't think I linked to this blog when I did comment there), I'm going to respond and just keep checking back with her to see if she's gone un-private.
To jewinthesun:
First of all, I never assumed you might abuse your daughter. Where the heck you got that out of my comment, I have no idea. My point was never that your adopted child would be better off with her natural parents…simply that she will experience loss..it's just a fact. If you as an adoptee have not experienced that loss, then I am truly happy for you…but that's not the norm for most of us. I also said that you shouldn't dismiss anti-adoption blogs because one day, your child might just be one of the authors of one of them…you should read as many of them as you can so that you are better prepared for the day when your child becomes an adult and may start to question her beginnings.
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Anything But Normal...
Wow, I'm honored to be listed among bloggers that I look to for inspiration and support.
I have a hard time reading the other articles on the site dealing with adoption, but I'm really glad that adoptees' voices are being heard.
To be completely honest, I've been trying to avoid the painful parts of being adopted. Of being an adult adoptee. Frankly, I don't understand why anyone (except other adoptees) would care about my feelings…often, when I do end up reading AP's blogs, I feel stifled. Claustrophic even. Why CAN'T I just be grateful…grateful for not having been aborted..grateful to a God that thought I'd be the perfect gift to a couple who thought they needed two kids to make them happy…grateful that I had a roof over my head and a "normal" family? Because my life was anything but normal. I grew up hating myself..hating the way I was different from everyone in my adoptive family…hating the fact that my cousins were beautiful and had all the right clothes and the right boyfriends/girlfriends and parents that actually cared about them. I wasn't loved…I was tolerated. And sometimes, I didn't even feel tolerated. I felt like a disgusting piece of garbage most days.
Some days, I still do.
I have a hard time reading the other articles on the site dealing with adoption, but I'm really glad that adoptees' voices are being heard.
To be completely honest, I've been trying to avoid the painful parts of being adopted. Of being an adult adoptee. Frankly, I don't understand why anyone (except other adoptees) would care about my feelings…often, when I do end up reading AP's blogs, I feel stifled. Claustrophic even. Why CAN'T I just be grateful…grateful for not having been aborted..grateful to a God that thought I'd be the perfect gift to a couple who thought they needed two kids to make them happy…grateful that I had a roof over my head and a "normal" family? Because my life was anything but normal. I grew up hating myself..hating the way I was different from everyone in my adoptive family…hating the fact that my cousins were beautiful and had all the right clothes and the right boyfriends/girlfriends and parents that actually cared about them. I wasn't loved…I was tolerated. And sometimes, I didn't even feel tolerated. I felt like a disgusting piece of garbage most days.
Some days, I still do.
Friday, January 15, 2010
Shaking My Head Once Again
One last post on the blog that I wrote about here..I was perusing the archives of the site and came across the below entry from December 2006.
Even way back then, it was clear that this foster/adoptive parent was not truly prepared to be parenting Danielle.
Bugging Me
Even way back then, it was clear that this foster/adoptive parent was not truly prepared to be parenting Danielle.
Bugging Me
Thursday, January 14, 2010
Remembering
Therapy was really tough on Tuesday. Really tough. Probably why I've taken to being snarky on some of the blogs I've visited the past few days. Sigh.
I'm remembering more and more about the abuse that I suffered at the hands of my afather. It's not easy to deal with, but I WAS able to finally say that I'm incredibly angry and feel some hatred towards him for what he did. My therapist was really proud of me for getting to that point, but during the session, while experiencing controlled flashbacks, I didn’t feel proud. I felt dirty. Still do. My head feels like it's stuffed with tissues..lightheaded and off balance all the time.
My heart aches for the five year old Christina that was put in that situation. It's strange though…I don't connect with her anymore. It's like I wasn't watching it happen to me. Most likely because, as my therapist has suggested, I disassociated during the abuse. I'm amazed I have ANY memories left of my childhood if that's the case.
I'm remembering more and more about the abuse that I suffered at the hands of my afather. It's not easy to deal with, but I WAS able to finally say that I'm incredibly angry and feel some hatred towards him for what he did. My therapist was really proud of me for getting to that point, but during the session, while experiencing controlled flashbacks, I didn’t feel proud. I felt dirty. Still do. My head feels like it's stuffed with tissues..lightheaded and off balance all the time.
My heart aches for the five year old Christina that was put in that situation. It's strange though…I don't connect with her anymore. It's like I wasn't watching it happen to me. Most likely because, as my therapist has suggested, I disassociated during the abuse. I'm amazed I have ANY memories left of my childhood if that's the case.
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
"Unfortunately, there is no rewind button on the VCR of life..."
I broke my New Year's resolution already. I found myself at a foster/adoptive parent's blog and my heart is broken. Broken for the young girl that is growing up in a house with two women who jump for joy when she's gone. I commented…calmly in fact…but in reality, I'm disgusted by the utter disregard they feel for this child. A child that one of the women says that they probably wouldn't have adopted had they known then what they know now.
OMG. So, I commented. And a few other adoptee warriors did as well. And instead of listening to what we had to say, she brushed us off with a blog post..telling us all that perhaps adult adoptees shouldn't read her blog.
Too late FosterAbba…too late. I've read…and I've cried for the girl that you are so eagerly spewing your hateful words about because you need a place to vent.
As I said, I grew up knowing that my amom often wanted to send me back..and it destroyed my soul and my heart. That's exactly what you are doing to your daughter. I'm sorry that you live in a state that won't let you "bring her back". I'm sorry your partner works in the Child Welfare system and that even if you could abandon her somewhere, it would be frowned upon by her profession.
Your daughter deserves better. Shame on you.
OMG. So, I commented. And a few other adoptee warriors did as well. And instead of listening to what we had to say, she brushed us off with a blog post..telling us all that perhaps adult adoptees shouldn't read her blog.
Too late FosterAbba…too late. I've read…and I've cried for the girl that you are so eagerly spewing your hateful words about because you need a place to vent.
As I said, I grew up knowing that my amom often wanted to send me back..and it destroyed my soul and my heart. That's exactly what you are doing to your daughter. I'm sorry that you live in a state that won't let you "bring her back". I'm sorry your partner works in the Child Welfare system and that even if you could abandon her somewhere, it would be frowned upon by her profession.
Your daughter deserves better. Shame on you.
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
Judge Me If You Will But...
I'm totally buzzed off of two glasses of wine and little more than two hours of sleep last night.
The End
I was at work this morning when my asister Cindy called me. She told me that she was on her way out to the nursing home to see our grandfather..that he has pneumonia again, his heart rate was elevated and his oxygen levels low.
Now, my grandfather is 96 years old...and has survived numerous bouts of pneumonia the past several years. He's been to the brink of death each time and has rebounded...surprising us and his doctors and caregivers. Cindy was careful to tell me though that this time the atmosphere was different. According to our mom, the nurses kept coming in and asking her if she needed anything and giving her spontaneous hugs...
I stayed at work until four and then headed up to the nursing home. My mom and two uncles were there, keeping vigil. The moment I saw Bumpa, I knew. There would be no miraculous recovery this time...and in fact, the Head Nurse came in and told us that they couldn't give Bumpa antibiotics for his pneumonia..that he'd choke on it and make it worse. The only other option was to give him the medicine via I.V. but that would have gone against Bumpa's wishes and so, we just waited.
Cindy was home at this point, checking in every so often to see how we were holding up. Steven was taking care of the kids, knowing that I needed to be with my family...worried about us all. I skipped home for an hour to change my clothes and my rapidly drying out contacts (and to snarf down a bagel) then rushed back so we could continue to hurry up and wait.
The morphine was administered...vitals checked...chit chat was passed around the room. All the while, we watched my grandfather sleep...seemingly comfortable for the moment.
Around 11pm, the night nurse in charge of Bumpa's care arrived. She'd heard that his health was failing and was quick to bustle around his room, wiping off his mouth with a moist washcloth, adjusting his pillows, telling us all how very sorry she was and how she loved to hear him sing every time she came in to see him.
After a bit, my uncles wandered down to the small kitchen on my grandfather's floor. Cindy called just then and we were talking when his nurse came in to check his temperature and said in an alarmed voice, "It's 103! Let's take off this heavy blanket..." Just as she went to pull the blanket down I looked at Bumpa.
"Mom..he's not moving...I think he's gone....". I heard Cindy gasp on the other end of the phone.
"Dad...DAD! Dad..I love you!! I love you!!", Mom sobbed.
The nurse ran out to get one of her coworkers and I ran down to get my uncles. I think they knew what had happened when they saw my face but I had to say it...
"He's passed...he's gone...".
My grandfather lived 96 years...he had a beautiful wife, who was struck down when she was 67 by a massive heart attack. Three children...seven grandchildren...twelve great grandchildren...and many close friends and relatives. He was a fighter...a stubborn ol' Yankee as he liked to proclaim himself. A lover of horses and golf and riding around his backyard on his lawnmower with one of his grandchildren sitting on the seat in front of him.
After my grandmother died when I was seven, he struggled to fill her role in the family. He never forgot a birthday...always calling and sending cards...showing up one day when I was home with the flu, bringing ginger ale for me..just like Grammy used to.
He filled her role with amazing grace and I will miss his smile forever.
Now, my grandfather is 96 years old...and has survived numerous bouts of pneumonia the past several years. He's been to the brink of death each time and has rebounded...surprising us and his doctors and caregivers. Cindy was careful to tell me though that this time the atmosphere was different. According to our mom, the nurses kept coming in and asking her if she needed anything and giving her spontaneous hugs...
I stayed at work until four and then headed up to the nursing home. My mom and two uncles were there, keeping vigil. The moment I saw Bumpa, I knew. There would be no miraculous recovery this time...and in fact, the Head Nurse came in and told us that they couldn't give Bumpa antibiotics for his pneumonia..that he'd choke on it and make it worse. The only other option was to give him the medicine via I.V. but that would have gone against Bumpa's wishes and so, we just waited.
Cindy was home at this point, checking in every so often to see how we were holding up. Steven was taking care of the kids, knowing that I needed to be with my family...worried about us all. I skipped home for an hour to change my clothes and my rapidly drying out contacts (and to snarf down a bagel) then rushed back so we could continue to hurry up and wait.
The morphine was administered...vitals checked...chit chat was passed around the room. All the while, we watched my grandfather sleep...seemingly comfortable for the moment.
Around 11pm, the night nurse in charge of Bumpa's care arrived. She'd heard that his health was failing and was quick to bustle around his room, wiping off his mouth with a moist washcloth, adjusting his pillows, telling us all how very sorry she was and how she loved to hear him sing every time she came in to see him.
After a bit, my uncles wandered down to the small kitchen on my grandfather's floor. Cindy called just then and we were talking when his nurse came in to check his temperature and said in an alarmed voice, "It's 103! Let's take off this heavy blanket..." Just as she went to pull the blanket down I looked at Bumpa.
"Mom..he's not moving...I think he's gone....". I heard Cindy gasp on the other end of the phone.
"Dad...DAD! Dad..I love you!! I love you!!", Mom sobbed.
The nurse ran out to get one of her coworkers and I ran down to get my uncles. I think they knew what had happened when they saw my face but I had to say it...
"He's passed...he's gone...".
My grandfather lived 96 years...he had a beautiful wife, who was struck down when she was 67 by a massive heart attack. Three children...seven grandchildren...twelve great grandchildren...and many close friends and relatives. He was a fighter...a stubborn ol' Yankee as he liked to proclaim himself. A lover of horses and golf and riding around his backyard on his lawnmower with one of his grandchildren sitting on the seat in front of him.
After my grandmother died when I was seven, he struggled to fill her role in the family. He never forgot a birthday...always calling and sending cards...showing up one day when I was home with the flu, bringing ginger ale for me..just like Grammy used to.
He filled her role with amazing grace and I will miss his smile forever.
Monday, January 4, 2010
Wow...At Least She's Honest...(???)
My New Year's resolution is to avoid reading blogs that will cause me angst.
Number One leaves me shaking my head.
Number One leaves me shaking my head.
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