What's That You Say? ~ NaBloPoMo ~ November 14

Writing prompt for today:

The Things People Say

What is the strangest thing anyone has ever said to you or asked you about being adopted? What is the most insightful thing anyone has ever said to you about being adopted? Has anyone ever shared your story without your permission? If so, how did that make you feel? Who “owns” your story and what part of your story do you share with others in your adoption “triad”? Is there a line when it comes to sharing? If so, where is that line drawn for you?

I'd have to say that the strangest things I've heard regarding being adopted have been since I started blogging. 

"You should be grateful that you were adopted..things could be so much worse."

Ummmmm...read some of my more raw blog posts and see how worse life was for me because I was adopted.

"My adopted child will never be bitter and angry."

This one kills me.  I mean, there are some things in life you can control, but someone else's feelings isn't one of them.

"Your adoptive parents ARE your real parents."

< style="text-align: left;"> Yes, such as they were, my adoptive parents were real.  But no more real than my natural parents.  Love isn't endless.  Love can multiply. 

The most insightful thing anyone has said once they've found out I was adopted came about when my fiance was talking to his aunt about my reunion with my mom and family.  He told me that she got this serious expression her face and said, very simply, "That's fantastic.  Now she knows her people."  Amazing.  She got in ten seconds what some people will never understand. 

So the answer to, "Has anyone shared my story?" would be yes.  Steven has shared my story with his family and they were nothing but supportive. I didn't mind him sharing because I know he truly gets how being adopted affects me.  He wasn't looking to get validation that I'm crazy.  He wants his family to know me and that makes me happy.  

Ultimately, I own my part in my story...just as my natural mother owns hers and my adoptive mother owns hers.  But our stories are all intertwined together, for better or for worse.  But the odd thing is, I don't share everything of my story with either of my mothers.  I just can't.  It goes back to not wanting to anger my adoptive mother and not wanting to hurt my natural one. 

I'm not sure where my line of sharing is.  On my blog, I don't censor myself.  I spent too many years being silent and not being my true self.  Here, because my mothers and extended family members don't read my posts, I can be authentic.  Perhaps someday I can share that with them, but for now, I'm content to share myself with you.



Leaving So Soon?

You know, nothing makes me angrier (well, okay, that might be a lie) than someone coming to my blog, commenting, having other posters comment, and then having the original person delete their comment and get the hell out of Dodge.

If you can't stand the fire, get out of the kitchen.

Here's the breakdown of what happened this afternoon:

Christina (that's me, in case you're already confused) wrote a blog post.  This one in fact.

Melynda (that's one of the sweetest, kindest first mothers you'll ever meet..in case you're STILL confused) commented on the Cabbage Patch Kids post.

Megan (that's who wrote the Cabbage Patch Kids Post) commented back on her post, addressing Melynda, then decided it'd be a fabulous idea to come to Christina's blog (still me..lol) and copy and paste her comment to Melynda on the post that was blasting her for her Cabbage Patch Kids post.

Christina comments in response.

Cassi comments in response.

Megan splits and takes her comment with her.  *Poof*..be gone.

Several people are confused about what all the hubbub (LOVE that word) was about.

So, for you, my dear confused minions and followers...here is the comment that sparked the poofiness:

I will repost the same comment that I left to you in response to your comment on my post because truly- I do have nothing but the best of intentions. And then I will not comment further because you are absolutely entitled to feel how you want about me and blast me in a public forum if you'd like.

"Hi Melynda. Thank you for taking the time to comment. First, let me say thank you for the sacrifice you made in choosing an adoption plan for your child. From friends of mine who have placed their children with adoptive families, I know that this is a decision that lasts a lifetime and is not easy.
I feel like maybe you misunderstood my intent. I have biological children as well. I included them in the statement that it would be easier to explain that they, as well, came from the cabbage patch simply because as a parent it is difficult to have certain conversations with children. Not that we don't need to have those conversations, just that they are hard. I mean, truly? Who wants to think that their parents ever had sex.

If you have been a reader here for very long, you would know that we DO have those hard conversations ON A REGULAR BASIS. We do NOT gloss over the fact that our son has a natural mother. She is revered in our home. We talk about her often. Perhaps, I could direct you to some other posts that I've written about this so that I'm not being judged on one sentence instead of the breadth of how much I do respect birth mothers.

http://www.millionsofmiles.com/2011/03/peace.htmlhttp://www.millionsofmiles.com/2009/12/birthmothers.htmlhttp://www.millionsofmiles.com/2010/05/they-call-me-mom.html
Again, thank you for the choice that you made for you child. I have nothing but respect for you." 

So, there you have it.  Patronizing?  Check.  Condescending?  Check.  Poofed?  Not on your life.

I do not delete comments that attack me, nor will I delete comments that attack my friends.  They say that your eyes are the windows to your soul?  I say, it's your words.

The Kindness of Strangers

I grew up with strangers.  They didn’t know me before I was six days old and I didn’t know them.  I lived with them, played with their relatives, called them all my cousins/aunts/uncles/grandparents and even called these strangers Mom and Dad…but I didn’t know them, and they didn’t know me.  Not really anyway. 

Gifts always came with an unspoken promise to be good for them.  To be good at pretending the family unit was a happy one…to be good at pretending that abuse equaled love.

My adoptive mother emailed me this morning, gushing over how nice Easter Sunday was, having all the family together.

And then, it happened.

She also said that she wants to give me and my fiancé some money towards the wedding.

Gulp.

She’s changed over the past several years and has become a better strangermother now than she ever was before.  But something is still telling me to refuse the gift.  Something is still telling me that she’s only doing this to prove that SHE’S the better mother.  “See??  I gave you money for the wedding…that PROVES I’m better!”.  Perhaps I’m just jaded.  Perhaps I’m just replaying the old tapes from my childhood.  It’s possible that I’m just regressing to the little girl part of me that shrinks in terror when her mother walks in the room, waiting for the explosion of anger and screams.

All that being said, I am taking the money.  Honestly, we need all the help we can get.  Child support has all but ceased (thanks for nothing exBF)…and my paycheck is eaten up by bills, groceries, gas and things that the kids need.  I just have to realize that there will probably come a day when this will come back to bite me in the ass. 

Oh Dear

I'm afraid that you all are going to come along with me for the ride in regards to this wedding.  After the shock has slowly worn off (!!!!!!!!!), I've started to look at websites for dress ideas and am looking into making my wedding favors myself.  Thankfully, I'm pretty crafty (and modest) as are my friends who are all on board with helping me plan this event.

My friends at work are ecstatic and are sending me links to honeymoon sites.  Hahahahaha...

Adoption related anxieties are starting already though.  This would be a lot easier if I didn't have my adoptive family and natural family to plan around.  I mean I KNOW that it's "my day"...and that S and I ultimately make the decisions about who to invite and how the day will go...but how the hell do I incorporate both mothers in my ceremony without hurt feelings on one side or the other.  I don't want it to turn into a Us vs. Them scenario.

My adoptive sister will most likely perform the ceremony...she's a minister and has her own church, so that part is taken care of.  But I don't have a father anymore.  And so the problem becomes, who walks me down the aisle?  If I just have my adoptive mother do it, my natural mother would be hurt (but wouldn't voice that to me...she would keep it to herself).  Having my natural mother walk me down the aisle by herself is out of the question unless I want to be completely disowned by my entire adoptive family.  Option # 3 is to have both mothers walk me down the aisle...which would make my natural mom happy but would piss my adoptive mother off to no end.  And lastly, I could just say "Screw it, I'm walking by MYSELF". 

Fuck.

People, I'm stressed already and the engagement is only five days old. 

Let's get ready to rumble, my friends...bring it on.

Four: Holy Crap, Really?

Background on the blog author: Married..has five children entrusted to her care.  Three biological, two adopted from Ethiopia.  Large following on her blog...most comments on her posts are full of  "Oh, you're so awesome..." and "Oh, I feel the EXACT same way..".  What's scary is that the commenters probably DO feel the exact same way as this author.  

~~~~~~~~~~

I'm really, really glad all my kids are back in school.

There. I said it. The three children that I birthed and nursed and raised from scratch, and the two children we begged and cried and screeched for and fetched from Africa...all five of these kids are in school. And I am happy, so happy, happy, happy, happy, hip-hip-hooray Mary Poppins happy. 

Holy crap, really?  Fetched???  Like a dog fetches a bone or a ball???  I can't fault her for being glad her kids are in school...but honestly, I was annoyed with this post the minute I read that.

~~~~~~~~~~

She then has pictures of the children she "fetched" from Ethiopia at the airport on the day they landed.

Underneath the photo of the girl, she captions it with this:


"I am crying with joy. R is ready to sprint like FloJo from the screaming white people."

Holy crap, really?  First of all, why do some adoptive parents do that?  Why subject a child who has just flown across the world, taken from all that they've ever known..everything familar..to a loud crowd of Rah Rah cheerleaders with signs and balloons at the airport?  Wouldn't it make more sense, if you're going to take a child from his/her country of origin, their home, and bring them to a strange place to keep things quiet so they have a chance to adjust?

~~~~~~~~~~

Another picture, captioned:

"Insert audio of yelling and cheering. GAH, why was she so clingy?"

Holy crap, really?!?   Is she really that ignorant that she could even say that?

~~~~~~~~~~

And then, surprise surprise, she laments about the end of the honeymoon period with the girl:

R gave us about 12 hours of honeymooning until her terror burst onto the scene. Sometimes her fear is so palpable, it literally takes my breath away. New places: terror. New faces: total insecurity. Transitions: help us, Jesus. She has asked us every single day since July 22nd if she is going back to Ethiopia. Every. Single. Day. When I discovered cashews to be a winning legume for her impossible palate, I told her:

"Yay! Good job! Cashews are good for you and will help you grow big and strong!"
"Big? Ah-Rrrremy? Big? Cashews?"
"Yes!"
She pushes them away and starts crying.
Once again, I am bewildered and befuddled.
"No! No Ah-Rrremy grow big! Me big, then go back to Ethiopia! No! Dis is no!"

Holy crap, really?   My heart weeps for this poor little girl. 

~~~~~~~~~~

And then we find out how she really feels:

 "Actually, I haven't had a shower in three days, I lost my temper with my uncontrollable daughter this morning and had to walk outside, I'm constantly cleaning up pee because uncircumcised tee-tee goes sideways onto walls, and sometimes when my two littles are asleep and we're downstairs with the original three kids who are so stable and healthy and easy, it creates a nostalgia so intense, I think I might perish. But enough about me. How are you?"

Holy crap, really?  Nice...refer to your biological kids as the "originals"...and excuse me if I don't feel bad that she's dealing with an uncontrollable daughter and not a stable, healthy and easy adoptee.  It's just so sad.

 

On The Brink

My girl's going to be in sixth grade tomorrow.  Middle school. 

Let's just sit with that one for a few moments, shall we?

.....

.....

.....

Sorry, I had to breathe into a paper bag...was hyperventilating there for a second.

When I went to middle school, I had to wear my sister's hand me downs (not that there is anything wrong with hand me downs, but when your sister had to wear "the wrong" kind of clothes, and you get to wear them four years later, things are bound to start off badly.  I also still had my ugly ass glasses...and the lamest haircut known to man, woman, child and poodle.  Sigh. 

I think back to those horrible years and then I look at Madelyn with her long, brown hair, face full of cute freckles, eyelashes that which even Snufflelupagus would be jealous...and I'm happy.  But what's even better?  She's happy.  She's everything that I wanted to be...and that means the world.

Does that make me sound shallow?  I don't mean to sound that way.  I just mean that I always wanted to be one of the "cool kids"..and I don't mean one of the cheerleaders or jocks...I mean that I wanted to be confident.  I wasn't...Madelyn is.  It's pretty awesome to watch her grow. 

My a-mother called me on the way home from work...this is how THAT went:

Me:  Hello?

AMom:  Hi!  Just calling to see what time the kids are getting on the buses tomorrow? 

Me:  Well, Maddie catches the bus at 6:50 and Chase's bus comes at 8:10. 

AMom:  Wow, Maddie has to leave early, huh?  Well, do you mind if I come over and take pictures of them getting on the bus?

Me:  (short pause)  Ummmm, so, I don't think Chase would mind if you took a picture of him getting on the bus but I doubt Maddie is going to want us to snap a photo of her leaving for middle school..(nervous laugh).

AMom:  (long pause)  Oh...OH..right!  Well, how about I come earlier and we can take some pictures in the driveway?

Me:  (huge sigh of relief)  Sounds good..we can have coffee after Maddie leaves, while we wait for Chase's bus.

AMom:  Great!  See you then!

Dodged THAT bullet.  Sheesh. 

And yes, I'll post the pictures tomorrow for you all. *wink*

Highs And Lows

Today is my birthday.  My adoptive mother woke me up at 7:00am to wish me a happy birthday.  It was nice but I probably would have appreciated it more two hours later..lol.

And then I got a text message from my natural mom.  She's far away in Delaware with my grandfather and it's hard to not be able to take off for the day to go see her.

This was the message:

I can't believe I'm so far away again on your birthday...
hoped this would never happen again. :(
I love you like crazy and miss you like crazy!!
I hope you have a wonderful birthday my dear firstborn...
sat in bed this morning and re-lived the day you were born.
(We spent the day at the beach...you didn't tan that day either).
As soon as I get home...a weekend is in order!!!
You are everything a mother could ask for and I'm blessed to have
you in my family, life and world.
Have a perfect day my perfect daughter!
Happy Birthday!
XOXO

Thankfully Steven and Maddie were still sleeping so they didn't watch me fall apart on the couch after reading the text.  I sobbed and sobbed...feeling cheated out of so many years of having a mother.

And from my natural father?  Nothing.  Not a word on Facebook.  I know that he and his wife have her four year old grandson spending time with them right now but I had kind of psyched myself up for a call or an email.  But, nothing.  I mailed the Father's Day card I'd bought last Thursday so he'll probably get it within a few days.  I'm wondering if he'll even realize it was my birthday.

My favorite part of the day had to be watching Steven open his Father's Day gift from me and the kids.  I got him a set of golf clubs...now he can actually play with the big boys instead of being a pro on Wii Golf.  Technically, he's not a father...but to my daughter, he's a loving stepfather and to my son, he's his "other" dad.  He's all that a father should be...and deserves all the recognition that Father's Day affords.

Thank you all for the birthday wishes here on my blog and on Facebook.  I love you all for making my day special.



Weighty Issues

My head is like a bowl of mush.  I've been feeling like I can't form a complete sentence without sounding like an imbecile so I've been avoiding this blog.  Possibly it's because I skipped therapy last week and even though I thought I was okay with that, my anxiety and depression levels have risen substantially in recent days and I seriously think I'm losing it.

Truthfully, this post might make me sound shallow..but it's my blog so if you don't like, screw (lol).  I hate the way I look.  I've gained a good 50 pounds and when you are only 5'3", that weight adds up quickly on small bones.  I don't look in mirrors if I can help it...and believe me, that takes a great deal of finagling when there's a full length mirror in the bathroom across from the shower.  I hate getting pictures taken of myself...unless they are from the neck up only.  I'll hide behind people so nothing shows except my face..and again, that takes finagling because they always put the short ones in the front. 

Last week, we had a retirement party for one of our colleagues..and the office busybody was bustling around taking pictures of each table.  I tried to hide..I really did..but it didn't work.  And the next day when she passed out our copies of the pictures, I could have sunk down into the floor and sobbed.  I feel really gross.  Seeing myself hammered home the fact that I am not healthy.  And it hurts like crazy.

At my last therapy session two weeks ago, I'd told my therapist that I really want to start doing things to make me happy.  That I need to start taking better care of myself emotionally and physically.  So tonight, she asked me what I've done to fulfill that wish.

I came up with one thing.  Only one thing out of fourteen days.  I took off to the beach for the day with Chase, my natural sister and our mom.  And that day was magical...aside from the frigging bathing suit business.  We dug in the sand and made sand castles...jumped in the waves and laughed as the water splashed us.  Watched a guy on a surfboard being pulled along behind a kite.  Was awesome.

But when she said, "And what else?" I had to admit, I had nothing.

I've decided that I'm going to pack my sneakers in my car tomorrow and start walking again.  Working my way up to jogging/running.  I need to figure out my life...and if I can get healthy, hopefully that will aid in my healing.  I'm tired of the weight that is wearing me down.  And the thing is, I'm not just talking about my body's physical weight...it's the emotional weight as well. 

On a completely different note, the day before we went to the beach, my amother asked to borrow our shovel so she could go to my grandfather's grave and dig a bed for his flowers.  I knew it was going to be hot out so I told her I'd go help her.  The kids and I picked her up and away we went.  Three-quarters of the way there she said, "Hey, do you mind if we go to your dad's grave so we can water his flowers?".

::thud::

My heart started racing, and I began to panic. 

"Sure.  That's fine."  I heard myself say.

While on the inside, I was shouting...You frigging idiot..what are you doing???? 

We got to the cemetery and were digging around Bumpa's stone...planting more flowers, watering the existing ones..while the kids danced merrily around my jeep.

After several minutes I mustered up my courage.

"Hey Mom...I don't mind driving to dad's cemetery, but I'm going to just sit in the car and the kids can help you water, okay?"  I kept my head down and kept digging.

I can't honestly remember what she said..probably something like "Are you alright?  We don't have to go...".

"No, we can go..it's just that I'm just finally realizing that I haven't been honest about some of my feelings..and I'm just trying to honor my truths...".

"Well, if you are sure...the kids can help me water the flowers and you can pull the car up past the stone.  I appreciate you being able to share that you're uncomfortable..".

And so, that's what I did.  The panic eased...and afterwards, I felt lighter.  I guess that's another thing I did for myself to make me happy.

Two things.  It's a start.

Have A Nice (Guilt) Trip?

Just got home from therapy.  Feeling off..per usual.  My afather's birthday is coming up soon...May 25th to be precise.  And historically, in the almost seven years since he's been dead, my family has gathered at the cemetery to plant flowers and clean up around his gravestone on his birthday and on the anniversary of his death (September 12th).  If you recall, I didn't want to go plant flowers in September..but I went anyway.  And now, I've gotten the dreaded question posed to me by my amother.

"What day works for you to go to the cemetery?"

Fuck.

I've been stressed out the past few months, waiting for this.  I don't want to go...I deserve to say "Look Mom, I need to be truthful with myself and recognize that going to plant flowers at the grave isn't helping me, nor is it healthy, so I'm just not going to go...".  But it doesn't feel safe to say no.

Doesn't feel safe, you ask?

Speaking as the adult Christina, I realize how stupid that sounds. 

But to the child that was taught to NEVER say no to her mother because there-will-be-Hell-to-pay-when-we-get-home-and-noone-is-listening-to-me-scream-at-you-while-tearing-you-a-new-asshole..no...it's not safe.

My asister has no problem telling our mother no.  She feels no regret..and can graciously refuse the one way ticket to Guilt that I always seem to be traveling to.  And I know, through therapy thankyouverymuch, that I am the one allowing myself to get on the train/plane/automobile for the journey, but it's just really hard to just say no.

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…"

Whew. (Probably TMI..Lol)

My little girl is growing up…she's going to be entering the double digit state at the end of May and I've started talking to her about the "changes" her little girl body will be going through soon. So scary!!! I started out by having her read "Are You There God? It's Me Margaret" by Judy Blume..which was a nice segway into a long car ride/talk about the book and what it means for her. She was completely mortified..lol. Like in a "Please just turn up the radio Mum…I don't want to talk about it…" sort of mortified way. Poor girl..hahaha.


The thing is, I never had those talks with my amother. I think she just threw a medical book at me and told me to read it. My asister had already been through getting her period and all that stuff four years prior and I'm pretty sure she had just thrown the same book at my sister, hoping that she (and I) wouldn’t have any questions.

A few months ago, I was talking to my natural mom about it…and she said, "For Cate's (my natural sister) tenth birthday, I put together a "Big Girl Basket" and put all sorts of body lotions, deodrants, shaving cream, razors…pads, tampons..etc. etc. in it….". Hearing that really brought home the fact that my upbringing was so different than what it might have been. You just didn't talk about such things in my house…sex was definitely not a topic that was discussed..ever..except in the context of "only sluts have sex before marriage". Funny, by that definition, both my asister and I ended up being sluts in the eyes of our parents in spite of the fear of God we had instilled into our hearts and souls.

The other day, Madelyn wrote me an email before bed (using my computer, right in front of me..lol) and then literally ran into her room to avoid starting a conversation. This is how the email exchange went:


From: xxxxxxx
To: xxxxxxxxxxx@aol.com
Sent: Tue, Mar 23, 2010 9:01 pm
Subject: ummmmm hi

Hey Mum......I love u. How are you.......I uh I don't know
I wanna wear a bra.Please don't discuss it now.........I'm sorry.I don't have to .......bye


OMG. So I calmed myself down (I admit I was laughing really hard)…and replied:


On Tue, Mar 23, 2010 at 9:35 PM, wrote:


Hi Mad...I love you too :) We'll discuss it another day then sweetheart, okay? No worries..we'll know when it's time to go shopping...


Love,
Mum

I was pretty proud of myself for the way I responded…and then the next day, I got this:

From: xxxxxxx >
To: xxxxxxxxxxx@aol.com
Sent: Wed, Mar 24, 2010 7:48 pm
Subject: Re: ummmmm hi


Ummmm......ok.....I really am sorry that it was so sudden.....I just sorta felt like it was time....Love you more than you know

Love Madelyn ps....is it almost time?


So, this weekend, I brought her to the store and we walked in…me striding purposefully towards the girls' section, she following behind me asking what we were getting. I didn't answer her, just kept walking right over to the girls' bras. She said, "Now??? We're doing this now???"…lol…

She picked out some cute sports bra type garments and handed them to me very quickly so she wouldn't be seen carrying them and avoided eye contact with anyone and everyone in the store, including me, until we left.

Turns out three of her friends have gotten them in recent weeks and she wanted to wear one too. My boyfriend chortled in amusement when I told him what we'd gotten…"But Honey, she doesn't NEED one yet…". I said, "That's not the point. She WANTS to wear one..and I'm not going to be like my mother and pretend that such things don’t need special attention." He shut up fairly quickly after that. Smart man.

Fun and Games

I'm back to feeling "okay" after my therapy session the other night.  I ended up back on my boulder, watching Keeper rock while sitting in a huge rocking chair...surrounded by ginormous soft red pillows, and clutching the security blanket I'd been attached to as a child. 

As I sat in the chair in the office, my therapist told me to ask Keeper, this little eight year old Christina that I'm beginning to get to know, what her "job" is.  Since Keeper can't speak, I saw her pick up a large, gold padlock.  She just sat there, staring at me...swinging the padlock back and forth.  She's the guardian of the secrets..and doesn't trust me enough yet to let me in.  I was told to ask her what she does for fun...and she just stared, cocking her head to the side.  She doesn't know what fun is.  Does she want to learn how to have fun?  She just stared.  Not yet. 

Then, it was time to invite Five on the boulder.  She showed up wearing a pink party dress with white tights and Mary Jane patent leather shoes.  She was quiet as well, but agreed to sit in a small rocking chair and listen, holding onto a very worn teddy bear.  At my therapist's prompting, I asked Five if she wanted to have fun.  She started to look anxious..I could tell immediately what the problem was.  Her mother.  She didn't want to make her mother angry...didn't want her to know about the boulder...didn't want to have fun if she was going to just get in trouble later on. 

I asked Five if she wanted to throw the fear of her mother finding her into the river..carrying the fear away with the water..and she did.  It took awhile, but at last, she understood that her mother would not come for her on the boulder.  That it is a safe place, far from the prying eyes of her captor.

Before Keeper and Five left me alone on the rock, I took Five in my arms..and we cried together.  I told her how sorry I was that she was scared...sorry that she couldn't enjoy being a little girl and have fun.  The tears poured from her eyes..and mine...as we sat there.  I didn't want to let her go...but I promised that she could return any time she wanted.  Keeper was just watching us from her perch on the rocking chair...and I told her that she was welcome as well.  She stared..and nodded.

It's a start.

I'm angry though.  Yes, yes..I AM an angry adoptee.  I shouldn't have had to constantly look over my shoulder...I should have been able to have fun.  I'm not even sure I know how, even now.