On a random whim today I looked up an old childhood friend. We're talking from waaaay back, like pre-k back, childhood BFF. I figured it would be pretty much impossible to find her because, really, it's a big big world (points to anyone who knows that one) and her name isn't all that uncommon. Imagine my surprise when I was able to track her down in less than 30 minutes, and confirm it was definitely her in less than an hour. You know why?
Because she has a career.
Because she has made something of herself.
Because she has done something with her life that has actually had impact.
I'll admit it helped that she's still using her maiden name. But basically, she's worked hard and her name is out there for all the world to see.
I had a fleeting thought about contacting her but dismissed that readily. After all, what would I say to her? "Hi, not to be stalkerish or anything, but this is the girl you were friends with back in preschool. I moved away, we kept in touch for a few years, letters, visits, blah blah, do you remember me? You do? Awesome. How did I find you? Oh, well, your career in the sports world made it pretty easy for me to track you down. No, I swear I'm not a stalker! You just kinda randomly popped into my head and I decided to see if I could find you, just to say hi. No, I've got nothing better to do. No, I pretty much don't have a life. You do? Well okay then, have a good one, gotta go, bye!"
Yeah. That wouldn't be awkward at all.
Honestly though, there was no way in hell I was going to drop her an email. And my whole instantaneous rejection of the idea of contacting her got me to thinking. Why? What would be so bad about just sending a short-but-sweet message?
But I knew why.
I don't want to tell her about my life. I don't want to admit that while she went to college on a gymnastics scholarship, I had a baby at 17 and trashed my high school GPA. I don't want to admit that while she earned her bachelor's degree, I chose to work full-time at some random job and dropped out of community college. I don't want to admit that while she built a career and worked on her master's degree, I continued to flounder around in the working world, trying to make my way up the administrative assistant ladder. I don't want to admit that while she followed her dreams, I let mine die, smothered under the weight of bills and jobs and family responsibilities.
I am ashamed of myself.
I feel like that's a horrible thing to say. After all, I am completely blessed. I have an amazing, utterly wonderful husband. He is my heart and my soul and the love we have is more than I ever dreamed possible. I have two gorgeous, healthy, incredible children. They are my living, breathing miracles, the personification of everything that is wondrous in this world. The three of them are, quite simply, everything to me.
Material things? Got those too. A home. A job, a car, cable and a cell phone. A laptop with high-speed internet connection. I may be on a budget, but at least there's enough money in my bank account to create a budget. I'm going on vacation next month, for God's sake.
My life is not bereft.
But the things in my life that I am proud of, the things that I feel lucky about, did not come from me. They are not things I had to work for. Not things I earned or achieved. Everything that is good in my life was given to me; whether by fate or a quirk or the grace of God, everything important has come to me without any effort on my part.
But my education? Nothing. Wasted potential. My career? Non-existent. Wasted potential.
Just ... wasted. I've done nothing with myself. Nothing my parents can be proud of, nothing for my children to look up to, nothing for my husband to brag about.
Nothing that gives me an ounce of satisfaction with myself, with my efforts. I can't even say, hey, I tried dammit. Because I didn't try. I just dropped out. I feel like such a loser, sitting here at almost 32 years old with no education and no career.
It sucks.
Of all the things that make me unhappy about myself - my weight, my fitness, my housekeeping ability, my appearance, my bumbling social skills - my lack of a college degree and career are the only things that I feel like I had 100% control over and simply blew. Things could have been so different, if only ... if only.
It's all on me.
There are no excuses. Nothing for me to hide behind. No one for me to blame but myself. I stand alone, pulled down by the weight of my own shortcomings.
The thought of shouldering these regrets for the rest of my life makes me want to sink down to the ground and weep. The weight of this burden is unbearable heavy, yet I see no way to change this outcome. I am held fast by the extraordinary realities of my life - chains that I willingly embrace and clutch tightly to my heart. I unequivocally refuse to give up an inch of what I have been given.
But oh, the yearning, the sheer ache, for what could have, should have, been earned.
Showing posts with label Musings. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Musings. Show all posts
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Life in Haiku
Alarm goes off, yawn
Headless chicken, that is me
Crazy rush - still late
I sit at my desk
Wandering the web like mad
Still so very bored
To work at what makes
Us happy, lucky are the
Few who manage it
Want to edit books
Or even better, write them
Dreams die over time
My husband on nights
10 minutes is all I get
While I am on days
The hypocrisy
Trainer's dog barks at the door
Won't you please shut up?
More hypocrisy
Trainer's dog craps on the floor
Send him to the farm
Numbers on the scale
Disgust and demoralize
Give me the ice cream
Landscaping, windows
Paint, floors, bathroom remodel
Home improvement dreams
They say money can't
Buy happiness; my response?
What total bullshit
I don't ask for much
New books, the beach, time alone
Must go play lotto
Come live near me and
Be my friend, or at least a
Cheap babysitter
Piles of laundry
Sit silent yet accusing
Please God, send a maid
Must give credit to
The man who blogs over here
Spread the haiku love
Headless chicken, that is me
Crazy rush - still late
I sit at my desk
Wandering the web like mad
Still so very bored
To work at what makes
Us happy, lucky are the
Few who manage it
Want to edit books
Or even better, write them
Dreams die over time
My husband on nights
10 minutes is all I get
While I am on days
The hypocrisy
Trainer's dog barks at the door
Won't you please shut up?
More hypocrisy
Trainer's dog craps on the floor
Send him to the farm
Numbers on the scale
Disgust and demoralize
Give me the ice cream
Landscaping, windows
Paint, floors, bathroom remodel
Home improvement dreams
They say money can't
Buy happiness; my response?
What total bullshit
I don't ask for much
New books, the beach, time alone
Must go play lotto
Come live near me and
Be my friend, or at least a
Cheap babysitter
Piles of laundry
Sit silent yet accusing
Please God, send a maid
Must give credit to
The man who blogs over here
Spread the haiku love
Friday, May 15, 2009
How The Mighty Have Fallen
It's already apparent, at the tender age of 5, that my daughter has inherited her mother's grace.
Which is to say, she has none. Sorry baby girl.
My poor Kays is a bastion of bumps and bruises, scrapes and scabs. It doesn't help that she plays as hard as she can, full-out balls-to-the-wall every time she goes outside. It really doesn't help that she prefers to wear dresses, so her long legs and arms have absolutely no protection between them and the hard, hard ground.
If CPS ever gets a look at her, I'm gonna be in trouble.
JT, on the other hand, has an innate sense of balance and poise that showed up early on. He learned to walk at 9 months, with a lot less of the bumbling and stumbling than one comes to expect from a child at that stage. In 3 1/2 years, he's only had one goose-egg that I can think of. He puts his whole heart into attempting to do everything his adored big sister does, but somehow manages to come out of it with none of the damage that she inevitably accrues. And even on the rare occasions when he does happen to faceplant, he usually bounces right back up, relatively unscathed. It's almost eerie, really.
She's gonna hate him when she realizes this.
It's safe to say that I have, for the most part, stopped worrying about JT hurting himself while he's running pell-mell down the driveway or climbing ontorandom pieces of furniture toys that are made for climbing. Not that I don't worry a little bit - hey, come on now, I'm a mom not a heartless bitch ... okay, well, that aside, I'm still a mom - but point being, he just doesn't make friends with the asphalt (or dirt or carpet or etc. etc.) nearly as often as his sister.
So earlier today, I felt as much shock as I did horror as I watched my baby boy stumble and fall ... right down the stairs.
Fell.
Down the stairs.
Down.
The.
Stairs.
Our dog, who outweighs JT by a good 15 pounds, pushed past him in a rush, and JT - who was decidedly *not* holding the rail like he's been taught to do - couldn't keep his balance. He wobbled, wavered, tripped and went down. I was standing at the top of the landing, just a few feet away, and it was like I was watching in slow motion. I saw every little misstep, but I couldn't do a damn thing about it.
I watched my child pitch head-first down the staircase.
Instinctively, I knew I couldn't just reach forward and grab him, as I would very likely overbalance myself and take us both down. Visions of broken arms, legs, necks, were all running through my head even as my body's auto-pilot kicked in. I dropped my butt straight down on the stairs, reached one arm out for the rail and the other for my son.
Four steps into his downward flight, I grabbed him.
My hand came clamping down on his ankle like a boa constrictor around a particularly feisty rat. I actually knocked his shoe off in the process. I pulled him up and into my lap, and clasped my arms tight around his little body. JT went from screaming incoherently to wailing at the top of his lungs, clinging to me with all his strength while tears dripped off his face. I held him.
I held him.
With the amazing resilience that kids are born with, JT was dry-eyed and happily walking down the rest of the stairs less than 5 minutes later. I watched him, his chubby little fingers grasping the rail and his sturdy little feet placing themselves carefully upon each step. He didn't hesitate, had no fear of what could have been. That was left up to me; that burden of sitting there, feeling sick to my stomach and shaky in my limbs, was all mine.
I know that there will be many times in my boy's life that he will again feel the terror of that long, scary fall. Sometimes it will be because of an unexpected shove, a hit from behind ... sometimes he will miscalculate the distance from one step to another ... sometimes it will simply be because he's too damn busy to watch where he's going. My job as a mother is to stand there behind him as often as possible, ready to be his lifeline and pull him to safety.
And for those times that I just can't reach him, those spectacularly bad times in which a hard landing just can not be avoided, I hope and pray I will have taught him how to get back up, grab the rails, and get on with life, as quickly and confidently as he did today.
Which is to say, she has none. Sorry baby girl.
My poor Kays is a bastion of bumps and bruises, scrapes and scabs. It doesn't help that she plays as hard as she can, full-out balls-to-the-wall every time she goes outside. It really doesn't help that she prefers to wear dresses, so her long legs and arms have absolutely no protection between them and the hard, hard ground.
If CPS ever gets a look at her, I'm gonna be in trouble.
JT, on the other hand, has an innate sense of balance and poise that showed up early on. He learned to walk at 9 months, with a lot less of the bumbling and stumbling than one comes to expect from a child at that stage. In 3 1/2 years, he's only had one goose-egg that I can think of. He puts his whole heart into attempting to do everything his adored big sister does, but somehow manages to come out of it with none of the damage that she inevitably accrues. And even on the rare occasions when he does happen to faceplant, he usually bounces right back up, relatively unscathed. It's almost eerie, really.
She's gonna hate him when she realizes this.
It's safe to say that I have, for the most part, stopped worrying about JT hurting himself while he's running pell-mell down the driveway or climbing onto
So earlier today, I felt as much shock as I did horror as I watched my baby boy stumble and fall ... right down the stairs.
Fell.
Down the stairs.
Down.
The.
Stairs.
Our dog, who outweighs JT by a good 15 pounds, pushed past him in a rush, and JT - who was decidedly *not* holding the rail like he's been taught to do - couldn't keep his balance. He wobbled, wavered, tripped and went down. I was standing at the top of the landing, just a few feet away, and it was like I was watching in slow motion. I saw every little misstep, but I couldn't do a damn thing about it.
I watched my child pitch head-first down the staircase.
Instinctively, I knew I couldn't just reach forward and grab him, as I would very likely overbalance myself and take us both down. Visions of broken arms, legs, necks, were all running through my head even as my body's auto-pilot kicked in. I dropped my butt straight down on the stairs, reached one arm out for the rail and the other for my son.
Four steps into his downward flight, I grabbed him.
My hand came clamping down on his ankle like a boa constrictor around a particularly feisty rat. I actually knocked his shoe off in the process. I pulled him up and into my lap, and clasped my arms tight around his little body. JT went from screaming incoherently to wailing at the top of his lungs, clinging to me with all his strength while tears dripped off his face. I held him.
I held him.
With the amazing resilience that kids are born with, JT was dry-eyed and happily walking down the rest of the stairs less than 5 minutes later. I watched him, his chubby little fingers grasping the rail and his sturdy little feet placing themselves carefully upon each step. He didn't hesitate, had no fear of what could have been. That was left up to me; that burden of sitting there, feeling sick to my stomach and shaky in my limbs, was all mine.
I know that there will be many times in my boy's life that he will again feel the terror of that long, scary fall. Sometimes it will be because of an unexpected shove, a hit from behind ... sometimes he will miscalculate the distance from one step to another ... sometimes it will simply be because he's too damn busy to watch where he's going. My job as a mother is to stand there behind him as often as possible, ready to be his lifeline and pull him to safety.
And for those times that I just can't reach him, those spectacularly bad times in which a hard landing just can not be avoided, I hope and pray I will have taught him how to get back up, grab the rails, and get on with life, as quickly and confidently as he did today.
Wednesday, January 9, 2008
Not To Be Repetitive ...
But I've got another movie post for you.
Thanks tomom Santa, N got a movie gift card in his stocking this year. For us, this is a really awesome gift (as was the gift card to O'Charley's). See, we don't have a lot of money for extras, and when we want to go out without the kids, money becomes a big problem. To go to a movie, you have to pay the sitter (2 hour movie, 15 minutes of previews, 30 minutes round-trip traveling, 10-15 minutes of getting there early, and 15 minutes of "show sitter the ropes" time = $35, and that's just for a 2 hour movie). You also have to buy tickets (2 adults = $18). So, we're looking at $50-$60 just to spend a bit of time in a theater. I cringe to think we might want to add dinner or even theater popcorn to that.
No wonder we so often choose animated kids' movies ... it's cheaper just to bring them along. (And hey, Enchanted was damn funny.)
But with the magic of a gift card, the expense of the theater is shouldered by that wonderful little piece of plastic. So we went out last Friday night and saw the movie Juno.
*************************
DISCLAIMER: Although I don't think this post will ruin the movie for you -- it's pretty clear what the plot is from the previews -- I will be discussing a few specifics. I'm really not going to reveal much, but you may want to wait to read this until after you've seen the movie. And trust me, you should definitely see the movie.
*************************
Juno is about a 16 year-old girl who gets pregnant after sleeping with her best friend. She decides to have an abortion, but then can't go through with it. Instead of keeping the baby, she opts for giving it up for adoption. This all happens in about the first 15 minutes. The movie is really about following Juno through her pregnancy, and showing what it's like to be not only a pregnant teen but an adoptive parent hopeful as well.
This movie hit home for me in a way that it won't for many people. See, I found myself in the same situation at the same age. Pregnant at 16. It's an enormous, terrifying, overwhelming place to be in. And just like Juno, I was a "good girl" (although, unlike her, my boyfriend was a loser that I would have been much better off without). It shocked just about everyone, I think, who heard about me. It shocked the hell out of me, that's for sure. Looking back, I don't know why I was so surprised; I don't know how I had convinced myself that I wouldn't get pregnant. Hello ... unprotected sex = pregnancy ... duh! (It also equals STDs, and I can say that it is only by the grace of God that pregnant was all I got.)
Juno experiences that same feeling, that shock of, "Oh my God, it's not real, it's not real, that's not a plus sign, it's not real, oh my God, no no no nononononoooooooooooooooooo!" But she gets past it pretty quickly and decides on abortion with relative ease. When that option becomes unacceptable to her, she grabs onto adoption and holds it with both hands, no looking back.
I was very much the same. I considered abortion, but never very seriously. I don't know why, honestly, because obviously I didn't have extremely high morals at that point. But I just couldn't do it. Oddly enough -- or maybe not so much -- keeping the baby was also never a serious consideration. It just wasn't going to happen. That pretty much left me with adoption.
Just like Juno, once I settled on adoption, there was no going back. From the moment I chose my child's adoptive family (and my first choice was *it*), the baby was no longer mine. I was just growing it for this lovely couple that couldn't grow their own child. I gave birth a month after I turned 17, and I never once regretted that I didn't leave the hospital with a baby girl in my arms. She wasn't mine. I could never give her what she needed. She already had parents, two wonderful people, and my place was only to say goodbye and walk away.
You have no idea how many people thought I was being cruel to "give away" my child. *I* had no idea that my choice was going to be regarded with such scorn. Honestly, the mindset of most of the people in my life was that keeping the baby, finishing high school through a continuation program, going on welfare, and letting my parents raise my child was perfectly acceptable. Or Jesus, go get a quick abortion, because even that would be better than "abandoning" my baby at birth. I was stunned at the number of people who honestly believed I was making the wrong choice, not only a bad one, but a horrible, heartless one.
I can say now, with complete certitude, those people are ignorant jackasses.
I do, however, have to allow them a bit of slack. You see, society, for all it's advances, is still in the dark ages in regards to adoption. I don't know why, but considering the fact that adoptions themselves have changed quite a bit, it's amazing to me that society still regards adoption as the least-favorable, most difficult, often worst choice for a young pregnant woman and her child.
I don't understand.
I don't understand why it is considered easier to get an abortion, when it has been proven that so many women who have abortions often have psychological fall-out for years afterward.
I don't understand why it is less of a stigma to rid yourself of an unwanted child than it is to carry that child to term.
I don't understand why anyone would feel it is better to stop a life before it starts than let a child be raised by someone other than the biological parents.
I don't understand why anyone believes giving a child to an adoptive family is wrong and cruel; that life with biological parents is always the best option, even when that life includes things like welfare and food stamps, never feeling equal to your peers because your are so poor, watching your mom work two or three jobs to pay the bills because she dropped out of school after she had you, and knowing your dad took off before you were born because being a teenage father wasn't part of his life's plans.
I don't understand.
For those of you thinking I must be exaggerating, that everyone knows giving a child up for adoption is selfless and wonderful, think again. I had every one of these things and more said directly to my face.
Then, of course, there are the women who think they really are doing the right thing by encouraging (or pushing, or demanding) the pregnant girl to get an abortion. They say, "Well, *I* couldn't go through with adoption, that would be too hard, so this teenage girl certainly shouldn't have to shoulder that burden," when in reality, they have no idea what choice would be the most burdensome to the girl. Encouraging an abortion just because *you* think it's easiest is beyond absurd. Who are you to decide what is going to weigh on her conscience 1, 10, 20, 50 years from now? Who are you to decide what's *easiest* for someone else?
And please, do NOT spew that rhetoric at me about adoptive children missing a piece of themselves, or feeling abandoned, or wishing they'd never been born. Ever heard of open adoption? Look it up. Open adoption wipes out the issues caused by old-school adoption, when the child could, and often did, have unanswered questions about his/her bio parents. Plus, for the birth parents, open adoption offers so much flexibility. You choose from "I'll tell you everything you need to know, contact me if an issue comes up, but I don't want updates on the child" to pictures and letters to actual visitation (which is what I have). The pregnant mom gets to decide what her comfort level is, then she chooses a couple who agree and are comfortable with the same.
Do all teenage pregnancies end in a life cycle of poverty and parent-absenteeism? No, of course not. But statistically, that is a very common result - actually, the most common result. Do all adoptions, especially in regards to open adoption terms, work out as wonderfully as mine did? Again, no, of course not. Adoption isn't a guarantee of a perfect life. It's a chance. Sometimes it's the *only* chance a child gets.
Is it easy? Hell, no. Giving a child up is never easy. But it doesn't have to be as difficult as it once was. If more people would research and actually *learn* about adoption, I believe it would become more acceptable to society as a whole. In today's world, adoption falls into a wicked catch-22. It's not a common choice, so people don't know much about it. People don't know much about it, so they don't consider it as an option. People don't consider it as an option, so it's not a common choice.
See the cycle?
More people than I care to count told me that, "Once your baby is born and you hold it, you will change your mind. After all, that baby is your own flesh and blood." Um, no. I chose my child's family when I was four months along, and I never wavered. I never even thought "what if". Because, you see, I love her. I love her with all my heart. I love her so much, I couldn't keep her. I couldn't do that to her.
And you know what? I made the right decision. My baby girl has the perfect family who loves her more than anything, and a life that is so much better than whatever I could have cobbled together for her. Do I miss her? Of course. She *is* my flesh and blood, and there will always be ties between us.
Sure, I've wondered over the years what it would have been like if I had decided differently, or changed my mind as so many thought I would. It's been hard at times, knowing that my firstborn was growing up somewhere else, somewhere that I wasn't. But my daughter has a mom, and it's not me, and she is more lucky for that than she knows. She also has her dad, her sister, her grandparents. Her aunts, uncles, and cousins. She has her parent's friends, the ones who are so close they are just like family. And she also has me. She has my husband, who loves her deeply. She has my children, who adore their big sister. She has my parents, my brother, my best friends. She has the biggest family of any child I know. She is surrounded by love.
That's the beauty, and perfection, of adoption.
Thanks to
No wonder we so often choose animated kids' movies ... it's cheaper just to bring them along. (And hey, Enchanted was damn funny.)
But with the magic of a gift card, the expense of the theater is shouldered by that wonderful little piece of plastic. So we went out last Friday night and saw the movie Juno.
*************************
DISCLAIMER: Although I don't think this post will ruin the movie for you -- it's pretty clear what the plot is from the previews -- I will be discussing a few specifics. I'm really not going to reveal much, but you may want to wait to read this until after you've seen the movie. And trust me, you should definitely see the movie.
*************************
Juno is about a 16 year-old girl who gets pregnant after sleeping with her best friend. She decides to have an abortion, but then can't go through with it. Instead of keeping the baby, she opts for giving it up for adoption. This all happens in about the first 15 minutes. The movie is really about following Juno through her pregnancy, and showing what it's like to be not only a pregnant teen but an adoptive parent hopeful as well.
This movie hit home for me in a way that it won't for many people. See, I found myself in the same situation at the same age. Pregnant at 16. It's an enormous, terrifying, overwhelming place to be in. And just like Juno, I was a "good girl" (although, unlike her, my boyfriend was a loser that I would have been much better off without). It shocked just about everyone, I think, who heard about me. It shocked the hell out of me, that's for sure. Looking back, I don't know why I was so surprised; I don't know how I had convinced myself that I wouldn't get pregnant. Hello ... unprotected sex = pregnancy ... duh! (It also equals STDs, and I can say that it is only by the grace of God that pregnant was all I got.)
Juno experiences that same feeling, that shock of, "Oh my God, it's not real, it's not real, that's not a plus sign, it's not real, oh my God, no no no nononononoooooooooooooooooo!" But she gets past it pretty quickly and decides on abortion with relative ease. When that option becomes unacceptable to her, she grabs onto adoption and holds it with both hands, no looking back.
I was very much the same. I considered abortion, but never very seriously. I don't know why, honestly, because obviously I didn't have extremely high morals at that point. But I just couldn't do it. Oddly enough -- or maybe not so much -- keeping the baby was also never a serious consideration. It just wasn't going to happen. That pretty much left me with adoption.
Just like Juno, once I settled on adoption, there was no going back. From the moment I chose my child's adoptive family (and my first choice was *it*), the baby was no longer mine. I was just growing it for this lovely couple that couldn't grow their own child. I gave birth a month after I turned 17, and I never once regretted that I didn't leave the hospital with a baby girl in my arms. She wasn't mine. I could never give her what she needed. She already had parents, two wonderful people, and my place was only to say goodbye and walk away.
You have no idea how many people thought I was being cruel to "give away" my child. *I* had no idea that my choice was going to be regarded with such scorn. Honestly, the mindset of most of the people in my life was that keeping the baby, finishing high school through a continuation program, going on welfare, and letting my parents raise my child was perfectly acceptable. Or Jesus, go get a quick abortion, because even that would be better than "abandoning" my baby at birth. I was stunned at the number of people who honestly believed I was making the wrong choice, not only a bad one, but a horrible, heartless one.
I can say now, with complete certitude, those people are ignorant jackasses.
I do, however, have to allow them a bit of slack. You see, society, for all it's advances, is still in the dark ages in regards to adoption. I don't know why, but considering the fact that adoptions themselves have changed quite a bit, it's amazing to me that society still regards adoption as the least-favorable, most difficult, often worst choice for a young pregnant woman and her child.
I don't understand.
I don't understand why it is considered easier to get an abortion, when it has been proven that so many women who have abortions often have psychological fall-out for years afterward.
I don't understand why it is less of a stigma to rid yourself of an unwanted child than it is to carry that child to term.
I don't understand why anyone would feel it is better to stop a life before it starts than let a child be raised by someone other than the biological parents.
I don't understand why anyone believes giving a child to an adoptive family is wrong and cruel; that life with biological parents is always the best option, even when that life includes things like welfare and food stamps, never feeling equal to your peers because your are so poor, watching your mom work two or three jobs to pay the bills because she dropped out of school after she had you, and knowing your dad took off before you were born because being a teenage father wasn't part of his life's plans.
I don't understand.
For those of you thinking I must be exaggerating, that everyone knows giving a child up for adoption is selfless and wonderful, think again. I had every one of these things and more said directly to my face.
Then, of course, there are the women who think they really are doing the right thing by encouraging (or pushing, or demanding) the pregnant girl to get an abortion. They say, "Well, *I* couldn't go through with adoption, that would be too hard, so this teenage girl certainly shouldn't have to shoulder that burden," when in reality, they have no idea what choice would be the most burdensome to the girl. Encouraging an abortion just because *you* think it's easiest is beyond absurd. Who are you to decide what is going to weigh on her conscience 1, 10, 20, 50 years from now? Who are you to decide what's *easiest* for someone else?
And please, do NOT spew that rhetoric at me about adoptive children missing a piece of themselves, or feeling abandoned, or wishing they'd never been born. Ever heard of open adoption? Look it up. Open adoption wipes out the issues caused by old-school adoption, when the child could, and often did, have unanswered questions about his/her bio parents. Plus, for the birth parents, open adoption offers so much flexibility. You choose from "I'll tell you everything you need to know, contact me if an issue comes up, but I don't want updates on the child" to pictures and letters to actual visitation (which is what I have). The pregnant mom gets to decide what her comfort level is, then she chooses a couple who agree and are comfortable with the same.
Do all teenage pregnancies end in a life cycle of poverty and parent-absenteeism? No, of course not. But statistically, that is a very common result - actually, the most common result. Do all adoptions, especially in regards to open adoption terms, work out as wonderfully as mine did? Again, no, of course not. Adoption isn't a guarantee of a perfect life. It's a chance. Sometimes it's the *only* chance a child gets.
Is it easy? Hell, no. Giving a child up is never easy. But it doesn't have to be as difficult as it once was. If more people would research and actually *learn* about adoption, I believe it would become more acceptable to society as a whole. In today's world, adoption falls into a wicked catch-22. It's not a common choice, so people don't know much about it. People don't know much about it, so they don't consider it as an option. People don't consider it as an option, so it's not a common choice.
See the cycle?
More people than I care to count told me that, "Once your baby is born and you hold it, you will change your mind. After all, that baby is your own flesh and blood." Um, no. I chose my child's family when I was four months along, and I never wavered. I never even thought "what if". Because, you see, I love her. I love her with all my heart. I love her so much, I couldn't keep her. I couldn't do that to her.
And you know what? I made the right decision. My baby girl has the perfect family who loves her more than anything, and a life that is so much better than whatever I could have cobbled together for her. Do I miss her? Of course. She *is* my flesh and blood, and there will always be ties between us.
Sure, I've wondered over the years what it would have been like if I had decided differently, or changed my mind as so many thought I would. It's been hard at times, knowing that my firstborn was growing up somewhere else, somewhere that I wasn't. But my daughter has a mom, and it's not me, and she is more lucky for that than she knows. She also has her dad, her sister, her grandparents. Her aunts, uncles, and cousins. She has her parent's friends, the ones who are so close they are just like family. And she also has me. She has my husband, who loves her deeply. She has my children, who adore their big sister. She has my parents, my brother, my best friends. She has the biggest family of any child I know. She is surrounded by love.
That's the beauty, and perfection, of adoption.
Monday, November 12, 2007
Pessimistic
Hello, my name is Jenn, and I have been addicted to reading for 30 years, 2 months, and 19 days. I read books, magazines, newspapers, and the back of toiletry bottles when I'm stuck in a bathroom. I read while eating, while watching TV, while on the computer, while driving (only at the red lights people!), while working ... you get the picture. It's a problem, I fully admit, but I have no intention of correcting it. I've gone so far as to seek out interesting and witty reading items, which is how I was introduced to the world of blogging. Lately I've taken to reading blogs by random people, and am greatly entertained. So greatly, in fact, that I have bookmarked several of them and check them pretty much daily to see what's new. And of course, it's a (seemingly) short jump from reading to writing. It doesn't seem so hard, I tell myself, to type out some anecdotal evidence of my daily life, post a few times a week. Then my friend Julie starts blogging more often, and I take this as a sign that I should once again attempt my own blog.
You may know that I had a blog, still do, actually, on my family's website. Problem is, I am getting spammed beyond belief and I just don't want to deal with that. I'd like to have a blog where people can comment (I kid myself that people will actually be reading this) and I'll be able to read through them without having to delete 100s of comments on sex, sexual techniques, sex-enabling drugs, sex-enhancing surgical procedures, sex-finding websites, and Ghandi's secrets to sexual bliss (well, okay, not the last one ... it might be worth the spam for that one). I'm fine with my sex life, thankyouverymuch.
So today I decided to grab the bull by the horns, the tiger by the tail, even carpe diem! Hence, my new blog. I am not deluded enough to think this will be a daily thing. In all honesty, if I get my kids out and about like a good little SAHM would, I won't have much time for this. But I like to write, so I'm giving it a shot. Besides, one might consider watching videos to be, in truth, good for one's children. How else are my kids going to learn Spanish (thank you Dora), interesting animal facts (thank you Diego), different music styles (thank you Backyardigans), names and uses of tools (thank you Handy Manny and Bob the Builder), how to be a good friend (thank you Clifford and Strawberry Shortcake), how to be a neurotic, overbearing parent, do everything wrong, and still save the day (thank you Finding Nemo), how to be a jealous, scheming, two-faced leader and still end up a hero (thank you Toy Story), how fighting can kill your enemies, impress your future wife, and make you king of everywhere the light touches (thank you Lion King), and how to appropriately use the term "bite me" (thank you babysitter who let my sponge-like children watch Freaky Friday).
After all, I can't be expected to cover all that. Right?
You may know that I had a blog, still do, actually, on my family's website. Problem is, I am getting spammed beyond belief and I just don't want to deal with that. I'd like to have a blog where people can comment (I kid myself that people will actually be reading this) and I'll be able to read through them without having to delete 100s of comments on sex, sexual techniques, sex-enabling drugs, sex-enhancing surgical procedures, sex-finding websites, and Ghandi's secrets to sexual bliss (well, okay, not the last one ... it might be worth the spam for that one). I'm fine with my sex life, thankyouverymuch.
So today I decided to grab the bull by the horns, the tiger by the tail, even carpe diem! Hence, my new blog. I am not deluded enough to think this will be a daily thing. In all honesty, if I get my kids out and about like a good little SAHM would, I won't have much time for this. But I like to write, so I'm giving it a shot. Besides, one might consider watching videos to be, in truth, good for one's children. How else are my kids going to learn Spanish (thank you Dora), interesting animal facts (thank you Diego), different music styles (thank you Backyardigans), names and uses of tools (thank you Handy Manny and Bob the Builder), how to be a good friend (thank you Clifford and Strawberry Shortcake), how to be a neurotic, overbearing parent, do everything wrong, and still save the day (thank you Finding Nemo), how to be a jealous, scheming, two-faced leader and still end up a hero (thank you Toy Story), how fighting can kill your enemies, impress your future wife, and make you king of everywhere the light touches (thank you Lion King), and how to appropriately use the term "bite me" (thank you babysitter who let my sponge-like children watch Freaky Friday).
After all, I can't be expected to cover all that. Right?
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