It has been too long. But almost all my writing mojo dried up (along with my eggs, I guess) and I really didn't know what I wanted to do with this spot.
But I kind of need it right now. Because I'm sitting here reading over paperwork from attorneys for the second day since I'm in the incredible category of CHOSEN by a birth mom.
Y'all. I just have no words. After I said I need this space for words, I know!
Anyway, let me finish up this last contract read over, send off another retainer, and I'll try to at least update the timeline of my IF/Adoption journey.
In case anyone is still out there following along.
Love,
Your Pregnant-On-Paper Blogess
Showing posts with label adoption. Show all posts
Showing posts with label adoption. Show all posts
Thursday, September 13, 2018
Sunday, July 20, 2014
Frozen
No, not the movie, though I do still have yet to watch it. More me and the prospect that seems to strike fear in every adoptive parents soul: writing the "Dear Birth Family" letter.
So this is my unthawing. I completed my nearly already completed supplemental questions. I managed a cover photo for my "brochure" (self-portrait, thankyouverymuch, as all photog friends were MIA...).
And I am emailing them off to the agency tomorrow! dammit.
And I am even opening the file from the brochure expert I'm working with which has all the questions and subjects to cover for Dear Birth Family laid out to make it all so EASY! E-a-s-y.
That is, as soon as you slay that giant Dragon o' Fear you have inside that now one will see you as a match or a mom, and make yourself unthaw.
- Homestudy done? Yep
- Agency chosen? Yep
- Lots of money already paid? Yep
- Letting months going by because you are to terrified to answer questions about yourself? Oh yeah.
So this is my unthawing. I completed my nearly already completed supplemental questions. I managed a cover photo for my "brochure" (self-portrait, thankyouverymuch, as all photog friends were MIA...).
And I am emailing them off to the agency tomorrow! dammit.
And I am even opening the file from the brochure expert I'm working with which has all the questions and subjects to cover for Dear Birth Family laid out to make it all so EASY! E-a-s-y.
That is, as soon as you slay that giant Dragon o' Fear you have inside that now one will see you as a match or a mom, and make yourself unthaw.
Sunday, May 18, 2014
It is May, not April, that is the cruelest month
(journal entry for AJ)
It is full of important days. Mother’s Day. Birthdays. Anniversaries of when we first met. It is heartache piled up around me, a new gauntlet for me to walk through every year. There was one wonderful year when all those days were happy days; I have to remember that year in those that follow when they are sad.
At some point we passed that dreaded marker I didn’t want to pass: That day when you would have been gone from me longer than you were here. I don’t know what date that was, and my brain refuses to figure it out. It is enough for my heart and soul to know that it happened. All I can do is pray that I did enough for you. That someday you will hear about me. That you will want to know. That some small precious part of you could will remember.
It seems fitting today that I finished up listening to a book I was grudgingly reading, upon the recommendation of a very dear and well-meaning friend. I made judgments the whole time, about the immaturity of the author’s voice, about the constant quoting of Bible verses. About evangelical callings and how I felt I was being insulted that my quiet, soul-centered and personal spirituality that has carried me through everything, was lacking because it is not Christ centered. But the last chapter that was delivered to me today was unexpected and dealt a hard blow. There was our story being played out halfway around the world to someone else. A sweet baby girl being taken from her loving foster mama and 13 foster siblings, the only home she had ever known, because birthing a child with your body counts more than birthing her with one's soul. Even when that child is abandoned, thrown away to starve and die. And as I listened, I realized that perhaps I had to be not truly enjoying the writing in this book or the author or the focus on scripture in order to build up my armor for what was going to hit.
Because what happened was truth.
I always said, especially when it came to us, there was no such thing as coincidence. We were brought together for a reason. But we were also torn apart for a reason. I knew the answer would have to come later, that there would have to be so much pain and hurt and sorrow first before I could start to see things.
And today, I saw even more clearly the truth behind much of what I had come to accept in these 18+ months.
What I realized today was that I had asked for this. Not just a child, a little girl to hold and love and call my own. But I asked for transformation, to be made a better, more loving, more giving person. I wanted my path, my purpose to be shown to me. And I wanted others to see it as well with no doubt.
The Universe granted that to me so fully in all of this. There is no doubt in my heart that my soul, for as long as I can remember had been asking for this: to be a mother. This is the passion and calling that I have to be, it is what I have to be, and we showed everyone around us how true that was. I thought I had already fought for it to happen, but I did not know struggle; I did not know pain. I did not know the face of grief and the darkest pieces of myself
I had to pay a price if I was truly going to transform. I am a different woman, a different person walking in the world now. I know things not everyone else does, but because of what I have gained, now I can show that much more compassion for others. I can understand trauma, loss and grief on different levels. This will come into play in my nursing career.
But that career will always be secondary, secondary to what this heart was created to do, which is to love you and others.
I can only trust that if I have been able to walk and struggle through this and see the greater purpose, that your journey has been the same. Perhaps it is only understood in the deepest, wisest part of your soul, and not something you may ever consciously be aware of, but your journey in this was for a reason as well.
That moment of trauma will have changed you. I can only hope that with all the love I gave you that it manages to be a change of good, and not a haunting scar.
I miss you, my baby girl. You will always be my daughter, my special one, the place I throw so much love and tears. Grow up brave and strong and loving and smart. I cannot even begin to imagine what you look like now at 3, but there must be dark blonde curls that are kissed with red and gold when the sun shines. That impish smile, and that deep laugh of yours still rings out. And those oh so serious hazel eyes, how they watched from a stern and solemn face, taking in everything before you act or move or think. You are the most beautiful little girl. Please know that I will always, always love you.
Happy birthday, my sweet monkey bean.
It is full of important days. Mother’s Day. Birthdays. Anniversaries of when we first met. It is heartache piled up around me, a new gauntlet for me to walk through every year. There was one wonderful year when all those days were happy days; I have to remember that year in those that follow when they are sad.
At some point we passed that dreaded marker I didn’t want to pass: That day when you would have been gone from me longer than you were here. I don’t know what date that was, and my brain refuses to figure it out. It is enough for my heart and soul to know that it happened. All I can do is pray that I did enough for you. That someday you will hear about me. That you will want to know. That some small precious part of you could will remember.
It seems fitting today that I finished up listening to a book I was grudgingly reading, upon the recommendation of a very dear and well-meaning friend. I made judgments the whole time, about the immaturity of the author’s voice, about the constant quoting of Bible verses. About evangelical callings and how I felt I was being insulted that my quiet, soul-centered and personal spirituality that has carried me through everything, was lacking because it is not Christ centered. But the last chapter that was delivered to me today was unexpected and dealt a hard blow. There was our story being played out halfway around the world to someone else. A sweet baby girl being taken from her loving foster mama and 13 foster siblings, the only home she had ever known, because birthing a child with your body counts more than birthing her with one's soul. Even when that child is abandoned, thrown away to starve and die. And as I listened, I realized that perhaps I had to be not truly enjoying the writing in this book or the author or the focus on scripture in order to build up my armor for what was going to hit.
Because what happened was truth.
I always said, especially when it came to us, there was no such thing as coincidence. We were brought together for a reason. But we were also torn apart for a reason. I knew the answer would have to come later, that there would have to be so much pain and hurt and sorrow first before I could start to see things.
And today, I saw even more clearly the truth behind much of what I had come to accept in these 18+ months.
What I realized today was that I had asked for this. Not just a child, a little girl to hold and love and call my own. But I asked for transformation, to be made a better, more loving, more giving person. I wanted my path, my purpose to be shown to me. And I wanted others to see it as well with no doubt.
The Universe granted that to me so fully in all of this. There is no doubt in my heart that my soul, for as long as I can remember had been asking for this: to be a mother. This is the passion and calling that I have to be, it is what I have to be, and we showed everyone around us how true that was. I thought I had already fought for it to happen, but I did not know struggle; I did not know pain. I did not know the face of grief and the darkest pieces of myself
I had to pay a price if I was truly going to transform. I am a different woman, a different person walking in the world now. I know things not everyone else does, but because of what I have gained, now I can show that much more compassion for others. I can understand trauma, loss and grief on different levels. This will come into play in my nursing career.
But that career will always be secondary, secondary to what this heart was created to do, which is to love you and others.
I can only trust that if I have been able to walk and struggle through this and see the greater purpose, that your journey has been the same. Perhaps it is only understood in the deepest, wisest part of your soul, and not something you may ever consciously be aware of, but your journey in this was for a reason as well.
That moment of trauma will have changed you. I can only hope that with all the love I gave you that it manages to be a change of good, and not a haunting scar.
I miss you, my baby girl. You will always be my daughter, my special one, the place I throw so much love and tears. Grow up brave and strong and loving and smart. I cannot even begin to imagine what you look like now at 3, but there must be dark blonde curls that are kissed with red and gold when the sun shines. That impish smile, and that deep laugh of yours still rings out. And those oh so serious hazel eyes, how they watched from a stern and solemn face, taking in everything before you act or move or think. You are the most beautiful little girl. Please know that I will always, always love you.
Happy birthday, my sweet monkey bean.
Saturday, September 7, 2013
Outing the Single Hussy
EDIT: Per a typo-laden cease and desist letter (which spelled my name & AJ's name incorrectly several times) from the Rhode Island Department of Children, Youth and Families, I am ordered to stop publishing images of a foster child in state care. I find this amusing as AJ is no longer in state care -- RI closed her case in March of 2013. But I am being threatened with law suits is I do not stop discussing her case at all in any public forum or media. So I'll just leave this here. I'm sure everyone can come to their own judgment of the glorious Powers That Be who purport to look out for best intests of children in their care. Those who have watched lives be destroyed and trauma caused at the hands of DCYF certainly don't see this as the case at all, but rather another corrupt political bully throwing their weight around lest truth ever be exposed.
One of the wonders of the internet is the assumed cloak of anonymity. While some take advantage of it to be complete assholes, I find it allows me to be more honest. I don't necessarily have people who know me, who judge me, looking over my shoulder and peeking into more than my normal public everyday life.
But then there are times you come to a crossroad and you find you need to combine your public and private voices to expose truths, and amp up the volume. I'm getting ready to shout.
Grief has taken an odd and unexpected turn. After my last post regarding another child the state removed from a pre-adoptive home with no notice or reason, my anger hit a point of moving me to do more than get out of bed a brush my teeth. I emailed the reporter with me story. And he called. He listened for an hour and a half to me try and tell our crazy, complicated story. I fought to remember details I didn't want to remember. I showed him the video, listened to her screams again at the airport. I needed him to feel it as acutely as I did, to be just as angry.
He was.
Last Sunday, Wee Bean's story was featured in the Sunday paper:
One of the wonders of the internet is the assumed cloak of anonymity. While some take advantage of it to be complete assholes, I find it allows me to be more honest. I don't necessarily have people who know me, who judge me, looking over my shoulder and peeking into more than my normal public everyday life.
But then there are times you come to a crossroad and you find you need to combine your public and private voices to expose truths, and amp up the volume. I'm getting ready to shout.
Grief has taken an odd and unexpected turn. After my last post regarding another child the state removed from a pre-adoptive home with no notice or reason, my anger hit a point of moving me to do more than get out of bed a brush my teeth. I emailed the reporter with me story. And he called. He listened for an hour and a half to me try and tell our crazy, complicated story. I fought to remember details I didn't want to remember. I showed him the video, listened to her screams again at the airport. I needed him to feel it as acutely as I did, to be just as angry.
He was.
Last Sunday, Wee Bean's story was featured in the Sunday paper:
And I added my own illustration with the video showing both our happy times, and then that most awful of days:
Isn't she the most gorgeous girl?
So those of you who would like to help add your voice to the fight, please consider liking our Facebook page. I want to amplify my voice, to bring this story to NC where AJ is now, to see if we can't get national exposure to show the flaws of our foster care system. I may never get to be reunited with AJ, but perhaps with enough attention, with enough exposure, we can save other foster children this pain. We have a broken system. judges and social workers have an antiquated and unsubstantiated bias that DNA trumps all.
DNA is not what makes a family. DNA does not dictate love and attachment and safety and security. So many thousands of children continue to be traumatized, turned into damaged adults who then feed the system with their own children to repeat the cycle of social worker job security. Think of how many families could be made, could be joyous and happy and spreading that sense of love everywhere.
So this is where I out myself. But I'll never stop being as honest as I am.
Friday, February 3, 2012
Still here. Both of us!
I know, I know, but holy crud, my life is just too insane lately to give me a minute to post. And the biggest issue I have is not being able to share photos because seriously, they do speak volumes and I want to share this adorable smiling monkey and yet I can't. So, so frustrating to any inspiration that I have to write.
And in truth, last year was really rough. I realized as I was writing out my holiday card in December that I had done 2 years of a BSN nursing school in 11 months. With a new baby. Crap, no wonder I was exhausted!
Luckily this year the class schedule slows down a bit -- you can't do the final year any faster than 2 semesters, and summer semesters are out. So I feel like I am still on holiday even though classes have started again.
As for A., aka The Wee Bean. She is still here. Her case remains tied up in legal. Parental rights were not terminated in December, but likely will be at the 1 year mark in May. And that is where the finger crossing comes in. Because we need to get to that point with the other state still refusing to take custody of her. And for this states judge to agree to the TPR. Because what happen then, well, she gets adopted. By me. And that is so close, and yet so far. Every day is one step closer, but I know all could go differently with a single phone call. So I'm just keep holding my breath.
~*~*~*~
And on that very brief check-in, there is a crawling stinky-bottom at my feet in need of a bath and snuggle. We are fighting a pretty good cold that hit with a fever today, but seems to just be fever and snot. Hoping the weekend sets someone to rights, but peeee-yew! I need to set that tushy to rights ASAP!
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Throw open every door; you never know where someone intends to knock
Now, if only I wasn't battling five kinds of crazy-tired and chasing after 6 million balls at once, I'd have a chance to open a few more doors in life.
But I kicked a big one open last week. Back in October, I finally decided to suck it up and head off to a meeting DCYF (Dept of Children, Youth and Family -- hey, you know guessed what state I'm in!) was having on their foster and adoption program. As expected, adoptions through DCYF do not start until the child is at least 6 years old. All hail the classic "we must do everything to reunite the family even if it is unhealthy" philosophy. I know, I can debate both sides of that argument backwards and forwards, but I'm a wee bit leery of the extent to which DCYF goes on this, especially after clerking in family court, and interviewing for a job as an attorney with DCYF. Which I turned down, because seriously, that scary understaffed and overworked office they like to show on television for that? THat would be sugar coated about 10 times over from the horrifying reality.
Anyway, as I was sitting in the meeting and hearing more on fostering, and trying to figure out if I could really adopt an older school age child who had already been in the system for eons, and didn't just come with issues, but rather publications, little bells started going off in my head on fostering for infants. Yes, and infant, and handing it back to family that has gotten it's sh!t back together. Part of me is going "WHat are you doing? You are insane! Stop this!" A much larger part of me was rolling around in all my developmental psych studies, shouting things like "secure attachment!"
I walked out of there going, I want to be a foster mom for infants. Maybe one will stay, maybe one won't. But I can make a difference. Just for the record, my cynical side is no longer talking to me.
I began to try and wade through the disorganized mess of forms (some of which were photocopies of handwritten mimeograph forms. Hello, the 1980s called....) they gave me to start the enrollment process that needed to be completed before I could start training classes. Luckily, I was smart enough to talk to a family member regarding a reference, and she happens to work with a private foster/adopt agency that works with DCYF. She steered me straight to their foster recruitment program, and they completely sold me on working with the private agency. Yes, foster children still from from DCYF, but now you don't have only an overworked state social worker as a contact. You have a social worked from the agency as well, as well as a dozen other people on staff working both on behalf of the child, the birth family, AND the foster parent. They know how to kid kids from languishing in the foster care system and kick things into overdrive -- either by above and beyond support and training for the birth family so their sh!t really is together, or making the state and the courts open their eyes and see that some chaotic situation are never going to be able to be fixed, so why are we punishing a child by keeping them in a tenuous and different kind of chaotic situation.
TRaining classes started last week, and if it hadn't been for a huge blizzard this week, I likely would of already had a case-worker assigned to me and home-study kicked off. But that is all on the horizon.
Bottom line is that in three months or so, once I'm approved, I could have a placement. I could be a full-time student, part-time birth doula, and full-time foster mom.
Me. <---- Insane.
But completely loving it. :)
Now, to start working on those other doors. Anyone want to help me right up a profile to make my womb look like the amazing location it is for a few frozen embryos? Oh great, I just got the idea for a profile headline... Instead of the typical "Family with so much love to give", I can see, "Spa-like retreat in this tropical beach-side womb -- just the place to thaw out and relax!"
I did mention the five different kinds of tired, right? Yeah. I get punchy when I'm this tired.
Over and out!
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