Adoption Carnival Eight: Little Girl Lost

Grown In My Heart is once again hosting a carnival.  This time it's about poetry..

Write a poem about adoption. Simple…then link to the original post using Mr. Linky.

Here is my entry.  It's basically about my life..but because I'm adopted, makes it all that much more raw for me.


Looking through the mirror
Wondering what kind of life she leads...

Do her parents rock her to sleep every night..
Or does she clutch her worn out blankie for comfort instead?

Does she pretend to be a princess in a far away land..
Or does she just pretend to be anywhere except where she is?

Has she ever opened up a box of cereal when one was already started?
Did her parents laugh, or did they break a spoon on her behind to teach her a lesson?

Were there bedtime stories and kisses and hugs before bed..
Or was she told, "Watch out for the boogeyman", and sent upstairs alone?

Has she been praised for her intelligence, sense of humor and compassion...
Or has she been ridiculed and called names?

What kind of friends does she have? Loyal, trustworthy, loving?
Or has she ever had her best friend pretend that she's turned invisible?

Are her parents proud of her...
Or have they called her dirty...or a piece of shit?

Has she felt the warmth of a parent's embrace...
Or has she felt the hot sting of a hand across her cheek?

Is she innocent..
Or has she lost that innocence and been told that she's a liar for telling?

Does she have a secret spot that she goes to when she plays hide and go seek..
Or does she use that spot to escape the terror in her room?

Does she look at her childhood photo albums and see her toothy smiles...
Or does she wonder why her face looks so sad?

Has she heard funny stories about her older sister growing up before she was born..
Or has she heard about the time her mother put her sister through the kitchen wall?

Was she told "It's okay" when she forgot to close the windows during a storm...
Or did her father throw her down on the bed in anger and lock her in the room?

Can she look at herself and see where she gets her nose..her eyes...her ears...
Or does she resent the differences she sees?

Does she know what unconditional love is..
Or has she been told that her parents would like to send her back?

Has she ever had a steady boyfriend..
Or is her life littered with Mr. Wrongs?

Is she content with her weight..
Or has she felt the shame of starvation, or binging and purging?

Does she love her life...
Or does she look through the mirror and wish she was me?

Adoption Carnival Seven

Another carnival is going on at Grown In My Heart…this time it's in honor of Mother's Day.

Carnival:


• Post a picture of your mother (the one you most refer to as a mom). This could be your grandmother, your birthmother, your aunt, your sister, your biological mom, your adoptive mom, your best friend, your surrogate mom…Your MOTHER.


• Include a Six-Word-Memoir with the picture describing her/what she means to you.


• Link back to GIMH with Mr. Linky


• If you don’t have a blog you can email your carnival submission to us at pickelfam at yahoo dot com


• If you are not in the adoption community you can STILL enter!

This is a difficult carnival for me…because I have two mothers…and because I feel like I'd be disloyal to one or the other depending on who I chose to show and write about.

Aaaaargh.

Truthfully, while I love my adoptive mother…I'm going to be completely honest here, sometimes I feel like it's because I 'have' to…because I'd appear ungrateful (yuck..hate that word) if I didn't say it. With my natural mother, it's a much more easygoing, laidback relationship…and the love I feel for her is different. It feels more…real…if that makes any sense. And while I know that both of my mothers are real, I have to speak my mind and look deep in my heart to see who my mom is.

Blah blah blah Christina..get to the effing picture, right?

My six word phrase to describe her and what she means to me?

"Life has become a fairy tale…"

Adoption Carnival Six

I've been struggling these past few days...struggling with my post for Grown In My Heart's sixth adoption carnival. 

The gist of the carnival is this:

How do you handle racism? GIMH knows that some of you may not have encountered this in adoption but what WOULD you do if you were to encounter it?

I'm not really sure how to write for this topic speaking as a domestic adoptee...but I'll give it a shot.

My adoptive father was racist.  Phew.  Okay, so now that THAT is out of the way... 

My adoptive sister and I were always told that there was no way in hell that we'd "be allowed" to bring home an African American boyfriend or an Asian boyfriend...(except he used the extremely offensive terms that decent human beings don't use).  We grew up in a predominantly (by that, I really mean that there was one African American family that lived in the next town over) Caucasian area of central Massachusetts.  Looking back on it now, it was a very sheltered existence and not one that really prepared me to be a citizen of the world. 

What was ironic was that we went to church and Sunday school every week and inevitably we'd end up singing this song:

Jesus loves the little children,

All the children of the world.
Red and yellow, black and white,
All are precious in His sight.
Jesus loves the little children of the world.

Sadly, not every parent teaches their children that looking down on someone just because they look a certain way, or because, in their own minds, that particular group does some things differently than what they are used to.  And that's not fair to the kids. 

Honestly, I will never understand why we can't all get along.  Everyone's the same inside...so WHAT if we look different...everyone has a heart (although, in the case of my adoptive father, that fact is debatable)...everyone has a brain (except for some of my ex boyfriends..lol)...everyone poops (and if you're like my son, that would only be once every two days so that he 'cracks' the toilet so poor Mommy has to plunge the hell out of the thing)...everyone eats...sleeps...laughs...cries...well, you get the picture. 

I hate thinking about adoptees having to experience racism in their lives...as a domestic adoptee, I never did.  I did however get treated differently (i.e. tormented, tortured, and teased mercilessly) because of the way I looked.  And I just remember how shitty it made me feel and still makes me feel to this day.  I know it's not the same thing, but it was certainly harassment and I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy.

I'm raising my children to respect the Golden Rule..and to never say or do anything to someone that you wouldn't mind someone doing to you.  So far it's working...fingers crossed that it's enough.

Adoption Carnival Five

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.

Adoption Carnival Four

Time for the Thankgiving edition of the Adoption Carnival over at Grown In My Heart

Obviously, this carnival is dedicated to giving thanks for...whatever...so here goes.

I'm thankful for my children...they are my greatest joys...and the biggest tests of my patience I could ever encounter.  I've struggled as a mother...to overcome my childhood and be the mother I didn't have.  I am thankful that I am learning from the mistakes that I lived through to be better and stronger.  They make me laugh every day...even when life is difficult, I can laugh.

I'm thankful for my boyfriend...he's my very own Martha Stewart...laundry, cooking, cleaning, loving, caring...he does it all...for me, and for my children.

I'm thankful for my amom and sister...we've been through it all...together.  The good times and the difficult times have bonded us in ways that are impossible to put into words.

I'm thankful for my natural mom taking the leap of faith and contacting me on July 11, 2008.  It threw my world into a tailspin, but I wouldn't change a thing. 

I'm thankful for my natural sister and brother...they are amazing and have opened their arms and hearts to me.  (Even though they DO mock me for being so much shorter than they are..lol.  Not my fault that I'm only 5'3" and they are giants!!

I'm thankful for love.

I'm thankful for you.

Adoption Carnival Three

I'm again participating in Grown In My Heart's blog carnival..Photos of Adoption. Join in and make sure you utilize Mr. Linky at the site to add yourself into the mix.

I debated about posting pictures of the day that I was taken from the adoption agency...but those photos now symbolize pain and anguish.

Instead, I decided to post a couple of pictures of my natural mom, sister and me at our first face to face meeting on August 20, 2009. A mere 39 days after our first contact. That day was one of the best days of my life and holds a lot of meaning for me. It was a rebirth of sorts..like the planets in my life had finally aligned.





I may post the story of our beginnings here on this blog....if there's the interest. I sometimes fear that I might get boring droning on and on about my reunion. Thoughts?

Adoption Carnival Two

I'm again participating in the second Adoption Carnival, over at Grown In My Heart.

Join in, but make sure you leave your link here to the rest of the carnival-ers.

Tell us about names this month…How did you name your children? Did they come to you with names? Did you change them? Did your parents change your name? Do you not feel connected to your name?

Basically, what is in a name?


"We called you Princess…"

For two whole weeks after I was adopted, I didn't have a name. I was just called Princess. If you've read any of the rest of this blog, you'll realize how ironic that name really is. I was most definitely NOT treated like a princess…more like Cinderella.

My aparents didn't even know how close they were on the waiting list to obtaining a child until they got the call that they needed to come to the agency that afternoon. There was no crib set up, no clothes hanging in the closet, no stuffed animals waiting to be hugged, no diapers…nothing. They called neighbors to help get things organized and bought while they were out picking me up…but did wait long enough to be given an outfit to bring me home in.

When we got back to the house, the neighbors had painted a sign for the front lawn.

"Welcome Home Baby W…….. # 2"

Even then I was designated as second best…and it was a role that I excelled in. My sister was the smarter one…she rarely got anything less than a "B+" in school, while I struggled to achieve mostly B's and a few A's sprinkled in for good measure. She didn't need to practice the piano and understood theory better than me…probably why I quit when she stopped taking lessons. She was on the Honor Society in high school and I didn't even get one of the alternate spots. Always # 2. Always in the background.

When they did name me, it wasn't because the name "Christina" had any particular meaning attached to it, but because it went well with my sister's name (Cynthia).

I've never felt attached to my name. Never felt like it fit me. When I was younger, I'd often wonder what my "real" name would have been if I hadn't been adopted..especially during my darkest hours. My sister's name, come to find out, would have been Cynthia either way. Her natural mother had chosen the same name that my aparents did. The only difference was the middle name. Jean was what her nmother picked out, and Louise was what my aparents did. And even then, Louise is my amother's middle name, as well as my agreatgrandmother's middle name. My middle name, Lynn, was pretty much just picked out of a hat.

Now though, I know my "real" name. I know who I would have been had I stayed with my mother. And while my nmother says that she loves my given name, that it suits me better…I secretly wish I could change it…to Elena Katherine.

The only bright spot to this story? My aparents may have picked my name out of the air because it sounded nice…Christina Lynn…what they didn't know…is that my nmother's name is Christine Lee.

Adoption Carnival One

I decided to join the first Adoption Carnival, hosted by Grown In My Heart because regardless of what anyone may think (adoptees, adoptive parents, natural parents), this is my life. These are my truths.

Before my parents adopted me, I wish they would had known...

not to yell. Especially my mother. She was constantly angry about everything...and nothing. The littlest thing would set her off into a rage and my asister and I would be apologizing profusely even when we didn't remember or know what we'd done wrong. The lectures would last long into the night and only end when my father came home from his second shift job. We'd be hustled off to bed with tears still streaming down our cheeks..."Stop crying!" she'd yell as my father's car turned into the driveway. The tears never stopped..maybe someday they will.

not to be so strict. I know that it's important to know where your kids are...but my parents took it to a whole other level. We were rarely allowed to visit friends, but when we did, we had to call when we got to the friend's house, call while we were there, and call when we were leaving. I didn't get to ride in my friends' cars until I was a senior in high school and even then, it was a battle. I was made to feel like crap for wanting to have fun and get out of the house. I wasn't allowed to date...at all. And when I finally did date, when I was nineteen, my mother told me that I was a slut and that my thoughts should be focused on my future and not on boys.

not to be abusive...physically, emotionally, mentally or sexually. Period. End of story.

not to tell me that sometimes she (my amother) wanted to send me back. This being said usually after she would break a wooden spoon on my backside or slapped me across the face...just hard enough to not leave a bruise.

not to tell me that I was a piece of shit. My afather did that to me once and it destroyed whatever little self esteem I had left.

not to act like perfect parents out in public but then become monsters at home. We'd go to church every Sunday...my parents were very involved within the church community..and then we'd get home and all hell would break loose. I dreaded the weekends.

not to tell me that I should get tested for certain diseases since they run in the family. I'm sorry, I don't share the same genes as you do. In fact, I get to just write down "n/a adopted" on all my medical history forms at the doctor's. Wasn't I lucky??


Before I was adopted, I wish I would have known…

that I had a right to feel lost and abandoned without feeling guilty.

that I don't have to feel grateful for just existing.