DNA Diaries

As many of you have read, there was a young man adopted from Russia to Tennessee that was recently 'returned' due to behavioral problems. Here's the link for any of you that have not seen the story.

http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/eu_russia_adopted_boy

Now 7 year old Artyom was in an orphanage in Russia, he was brought to a foreign land, with alien values, language and people surrounding him. The little that he did have in Russia may not have been much, but at least it was familar. I'm unclear of why he was in the orphanage, did his parents die? Was he relinquished? Removed? I don't know, but what I do know is this boy has gone through hell and back. Psychological problems? HELL YES! Imagine what issues he is going to have after this little event.
Let's break this down. TRY to put yourself in a 7 year old mind and think about what he has seen. Maybe he had a family, one that he remembers. And one day they are gone, for whatever reason-GONE. You are then taken to a place filled with other children. You probably hear stories of never finding a home, living there forever, who knows what he heard. But he claims he was beaten with a broomstick. Just a bit more salt in that wound please and thank you.
Now you are 'choosen' to be place in a home, you are going to have parents! Ones that don't speak your language, serve food you are unaccustomed to, have do things you don't understand. And you can't even ask what the hell is going on. Because they don't understand you.

Have you ever had a day that you just felt alone? Even if you are with a huge group of people, you just feel you are alone? Compound that by 10,000 and shove it onto a 7 year old. There is not enough tears in the world to express this solitude

Artyom claims his 'mother' was "bad" and that she "pulled his hair" AND, (your gonna love this one)"didn't love him". Yeah, that'll be an easy recovery from. Like he wasn't already feeling estranged, but now there is another family that doesn't love him. This won't be grounds for emotional stife later in life.
I am not a perfect parent. I yell too much, I don't spend enough time playing, I am way too busy for my own good. But I can tell you one thing, my kids know I love them. There is never a question of that.
I simply can not imagine putting my 7 year old on a plane alone for 2 hours to get to Florida, let alone to send him off accross the world. I don't even know how long of a flight that is, but it's not a quicky. Can you imagine the confusion this kid had? Did he have a clue what was going on? He was ditched again, I don't care what anyone says, THATS what he was thinking. Yet another instance of someone not wanting him. Pushing him off to something unknown.

Ok, this kid is not faultless. He was violent and threatening. He drew pictures of burning down the house with the famiy inside. He was a major jerk. But he's 7 and has no sense of what a family is, how to interact in one or even a remote sense of stability. I think I'd go postal on someone too. NO, I'm positive I would. But guess what? These are classic signs, not unheard of. When my husband and I got together I his son was a problem-still is. His mother gave up custody of all 3 of them. Willingly. It's different I know, but he was still left behind. And it affected him. I have stuck by him for 12 years. He's still a major pain in the butt, he's mouthy, known to be violent time to time, has threatened my life, exhibited severe social issues. Not an easy child by any means. But guess what? HE'S MY SON. Period, there may be lot's of times I don't like him, but I'll never leave him. I knew what I was getting into.

I'm going to try to wrap this up, I can feel myself beginning to quiver from all this. It's making me sick.

In the end, just because you take in a child, give him a home, feed him and buy him some new tennis shoes-does not mean he is your lap dog pouring out undying appreciation and gratefulness. He is not obligated to be anything more than what he is, a kid. He didn't ask to be there, he doesn't understand whats happening. What he does understand is that every adult he has had in his life has left him. ALONE. What do we do to the worst of the worst of our prisoners? We put them in soliatary. Alone so they are deprived of contact. This is the same thing, on an emotional level. And I have a hard time believing this child will ever truly be 'normal'. HOW COULD HE? What normalcy does he have to base off? NONE. They love you-they leave. These ones over here love you-they leave. Hmmmmm.....think its possible that society as a general whole has utterly damaged this child beyond repair? Sure they may make him look good and normal, but inside, what state is he going to be in?

I'm climbing off my soapbox now. In closing I'd like to clearly state my very own personal opinion, and I'm not caring if this makes me popular or not.
I hope they fry that family. Torry Hanson, 33 of Tennessee, I hope with every ounce of my being that you see prison time until you are old and grey. I hope your mother is right along side of you. I hope your uterus rots from lack of life and when you get to hell, I hope, no PRAY, that you are given the same treatment you gave to the 'child' you were supposed to love. And to Artyom, dear boy, I pray that you are able to see that the sins of the adults you have been so unfortunate to encounter, are not yours. I can only hope that you can see that. One day.

Work has been a real hoot lately. There are tons of new faces, so many that I believe the newer people out number the old timers like me. During a conversation with a man we'll call T, I found out he is adopted by his step dad and has no real inclination for reunion with his biological father. Seems the circumstances surrounding his conception was not on the 'up and up'. I offered to hook him up with some of my sleuth-like friends if he changes his mind. In the average male adoptee, he smiled and changed the subject. Which is fine, I understand how rattling a conversation like that can be, ESPECIALLY with someone you barely know. And statically, men are less likely to want to search and reunite. I can't say why that is, but it's just that way.

Flash forward to last night. A new girl comes to my area. I have met her before, but only briefly. She seems nice and slightly pensive of us. I don't blame her, working with people you don't know can be rough. You never know where your boundaries are, what these guys are like or if you can just be yourself. We'll call her S. Now while standard and safe talks about children she makes a passing comment about her family and how her dad was adopted. "REEEAAAALLLLLYYYY....." I say. He is Puerto Rican and was adopted (it sounds) at birth. I giggle slightly and tell her that we have lots of adoption in our little area, T, me and now she is a product of an adoptee. Her eyes widen and she stammers out 'YOU'RE adopted????'
I'm not quite sure why she seemed so stunned, guess I wasn't wearing my "HELLO, I'm adopted, what's your name?" nametag. I smile broadly and tell her yes I am. I'm amused by her utter surprise.

As things go along and the more I talk (it's my given gift in life, man can I talk) she quickly asks the age old standard question that every adoptee gets "did you find your real parents?"
Now I won't split hairs about her terminlogy. I personally think this whole debate over titles is rhetorical. I understand the plight, I really do. But to waste so much time and effort on titles such as birth, biological, natural, first, real....sigh, I don't have the time nor the passion for such stuff. There are bigger fish to fry and I'm moving on to that. But there is ONE term I hate, hate, hate. Thats 'real'. OH HOW I HATE THAT TERM. To have someone ever even insinuate that ANY of my parents are not real makes me furious.
So I ignore that term and again smile as big as my face will let me and nod my head. YUP-I found them. I know my 'real' parents.
By this time poor S is in awe. Her mouth is slightly ajar and the look on her face was priceless. By now I'm wondering what direction this is about to go in. Am I going to be bombarded with questions about them OR....I'm I about to be verball and morally attacked for being so selfish and awful as to look for the parents that BLATENTLY didn't want me? It's a coin toss as to which way it's gonna go every time.

She opted for an onslaught of questions (whew!) that I fended quite happily with. I don't think her mouth ever fully closed during the entire conversation. She literally hung on my every word. I was pleased that she was so open and only slightly uncomfortable with the honed in focus of this more or less stranger. But in my typical form I forged ahead and offered up every scrap of info she wanted. She was amazed, she was blown away and rather happy for me. I then asked MY standard question, "are you interested in finding your family?"
I have to admit her answer threw me. She said "My family? It's not MY family-my DAD was adopted, not me"
I actually had to blink a time or two to process this statement. I guess I never realized how the offspring of an adoptee was so quick to separate themselves from the adoption itself. Not her family? Those are her aunts, uncles, cousins, etc...too. They were her blood just as much as anyone else. I gently reminded her of that and the look of confusion was undeniable. She had honestly never thought of it like that. It never crossed her mind that she was also missing part of her life. So were her kids.

This went on most of the night. Every spare second she was in front of me, first apologizing for being too nosey or making me uncomfortable. I assured her it was fine, I enjoyed telling her. It WAS nice to have someone be responsive and not take personal stabs at me and judge me like I was a criminal because I looked, found and developed a relationship with my roots.
Later in the night I brought up again finding her fathers and her family. Now this time she showed more emotion, this time she answered with a small bit of venom and hostility in her voice. I'm not ashamed to say that I was slightly taken aback. Her response was a very blunt and flat "Why should we? They never tried to find US-they don't care. They never came looking for my dad."
THERE WE GO.....there is some fire under it all! Good! I can use this, she cares, she just doesn't want to show it.

I looked her straight in the eyes and asked how she knew that. HOW did she know so confidently that they never looked? "Well, they didn't find him. They never came back."
Another remark that I could not let go. I gently as possible explained how most things work. That the agencies lie about info, throw people off by giving false info, that biological families are told they will go to jail if they do look, that they are told how the child may not know/they will ruin their lives/get over it.....I gave her countless scenerios. I told her what they told Lori. She stared at me like a train wreck. She literally could not move. Poor S, she was trying so hard to absorb all that I was throwing at her, but I could see she was reaching her limit. It was time for me to back off and let her process.
For a few hours S was rather quiet. She didn't avoid me, but she certainly didn't go out of her way to talk to me either. Which was fine. She needed to really chew on the stuff I told her. It was things that she had never thought of. Soooooo many people THINK they know adoption. They know their cousin or neighbors dauthers friend or that kid in school they never talked to. Even some that have been touched directly by it (like S) THINK they know it, they understand it, it's cut and dried. But when that different skew is put in front of them, well, it can be overwhelming.

The end of the night crept in and we slowed down just a bit. I found myself looking at S again, she had more to say. I pat her on the back, she is a trooper and was honestly wanting to know. Good for her!
S stood there for a few moments, sizing up me and her choice of words. Mind you, S is probably 5-6 inches taller than me and outweighs me by quite a bit. When she stands in front of you grappling for words, you tend to stay put and listen.
Finally she gently says "You know, my dad is dying. I don't know if he would want to do this. He's not gonna make it much longer."
It hurt me to hear her words and to see the pain in her face. I have not buried a parent yet, but now that I have found Lori and Jim, I get to do that 4 times over. Include my mother in law (whom is ranked right up there with Lori and my mom) and I am going to need some serious valium when those times come. The idea of it pains me, so I can only imagine how it feels for her to watch this happening to her dad.
The words came out of my mouth before I had the time to fully think them through. This happens alot to me. They fall out of my lips and hang there.
"Then I guess you don't have a lot of time to mess around then. If you are gonna do it you better do it quick"
There it was. That final push. Part of me regretted saying it, she had already taken in so much that night and I have to turn that screw just a bit more. It's true though. IF her dad or her was going to do this-they don't have the luxury of time. IF they wanted to push forward, it could take years. All this is true, but I think I could have gotten my point accross without going there. She took it well. She nodded and agreed. (I told you she was a trooper). Did I mention I had also thrown out stories of sick and twisted adoptions? Stolen babies and women spending lifetimes without the child they thought died only to find they were taken instead? Yeah....I kinda took it too far. But I held her attention.

So tonight is another night. I am anxious to see how she responds to me. Will she avert her eyes and ignore me? Will she pretend our conversation never happened? Will she become angry with me for dumping too much truth on her? Will she embrace what I told her and want to know more????
I've had all of those options happen to me in the past. I've drove people away because they don't want to discuss such things.

Fingers crossed that she doesn't hate me. If she does, oh well I guess. It is what it is....a messed up world that can shake lives for generations. I didn't make it was it is, I'm just stuck in it like the rest of us. But I'm doing all I can to spread the word. So others see that things have to change. I have a feeling this is NOT over. We only slightly talked about birth certificates and the such. This is gonna get interesting.....

So you have read some of my highs and lows with my bio dad. I have to admit he is making an effort, I wish I could say I trust it, but I'm not there yet.

On one of his phone calls to me he told the story of a friend he had not seen in years. This friend knew nothing of me, like the rest of the free world, but Jim was excited to tell him. He told him about out first phone call, our first face to face meeting and a few other stories. His friend was very happy for him and in his excitment asked Jim what his daughters name was....innocent enough. Right? Not for my enigma of a father. He told me he could just stare at his friend because he only knew my first name. He realized that he had NEVER taken the time to even ask my full name. He was ashamed of himself. And to be honest, he should be. It's been 2 years and he had no idea what my last name was, let alone my middle.
I told him. Even gave him my maiden name in case he cared. I took it lightheartedly, I really did. In fact, he took it harder than I did. I knew he didn't know-but he didn't. It never crossed his mind.

This put right in his face how little time and energy he had given. I didn't need to tell him any more. No more begging for any tidbit of info he was willing to give. He thought he was being so honest and open with me, but he proved to himself what a diluted relationship we have.

I think this put a whole new perspective on our relationship. He always insisted that things between us were 'fine'. But standing there, facing a man he had known most of his life, admitting he had no idea what his daughter's name was, well, it makes you stop and think. Can you imagine what that man thought? What doubts about Jim as a person must have shown in his face?
Whatever epiphany came from that, Jim is more willing now to put me in his life. Like in my last post, I still question how this will all turn out, but at least I have hope. Which is more than I have had in the past year or so.

But at least he knows my name. Not much, but it's a start I guess.

The holidays takes their toll on us all. Some relish in the glinting lights and cheer. They reflect upon the love in their lives and future plans. To me-it's total chaos and a big fat kick in the teeth about my shortcomings.
But there is a small glint for me too. I have so much to be thankful for and so much to reflect upon. Especially the last few years. Finding Lori and Jim have rocked my world, changed my life, opened my eyes, reduced me to tears, made me question my sanity and shown me the path to what TRUE love and family is.

So during these past holidays I sat many a night wondering where my place was. Who I was, if I truly had a place in my new/old family. Lori was never really a question, as you all can see-we get along just dandy. But I have 2 bio parents and Jim has been a very big factor in my world the last 2 years. I can honestly say that I have never questioned myself more than I have since I found him. I literally had no idea what I was to him. Yes I was his daughter, yes he loved me, yes he wanted to be part of my life. BUT...how could this happen when he was backing away from me at break neck speed?
Let me back up just a bit. Jim is not like Lori and I. He is reserved and cautious. He doesn't make any effort to rock the boat, his is an mystery to me. Our relationship has had it's ups and downs, mostly due to his family. Let's be frank here-they hate me. I don't have any explaination why except that I was born and they didn't have a say in that. So they blame me. OK-whatever.
The reason I didn't put tons of effort into finding him for so long was because I was afraid of destroying his life. Mind you, I was thinking more along the lines of a wife and other children NOT a nutcase sister and other uncaring siblings.
Our contact had come to all but a screaching halt, he pulled back further and further, never having even 10 minutes to talk to me on the phone. Actually seeing each other was not even discussed. It was impossible. He was simply to busy.

I lost many many nights sleep mulling over the personal attacks his sister, my 'aunt', had dished out to me. The sick hurtful words she wrote of my mom and dad and entire family. The things she said about how Jim supposedly really felt about me. Even how much destruction I had brought to his life. It destroyed me to think of them sitting around disrespecting my family. So one night after he had a cold conversation with Lori and she called me very angry, I had enough. I picked up the phone and had every intention of ending it right there. I lived 35 years without him just fine and I was prepared to live another 35 without him.

I caught him fresh out of a sleep and rather groggy. Unfair of me to pursue it, the man wasn't even awake, but that didn't stop me. I told him he was going to hear what his family had been saying to me, about me, about him, about Lori and about my family. I would not take no for an answer and I EXPECTED him to listen. He owed me that much. I DESERVED his attention, for once.
I pulled the venomous emails up from his sister. I read every word she wrote and every word I responded with. I stopped to stress some of the more hurtful things and tell him what I thought about it. Like the vile comments made about what pathetic people my parents must be. He listened, he gasped in shock and groaned in disgust a few times. He interjected a few times, uttering what a load of crap she was spinning and explaining the truth to me.
When I was done, I told him I was ready to walk away, that from here on out it was his move, I QUIT. He may be my father no matter what, but I am not his or his families doormat ever.

I actually pitied him in the end. He is not used to being talked to like that. I didn't care. I had reached my limit and I refused to take it one more day. No more sleep will be lost to this.
Without going into mushy gushy details he said he was ready. Ready to move into a real relationship with me. He wanted to be a part of my life. He was willing to do whatever it took. I listened, and in the end told him I couldn't believe him. The ball was in his court from here on out. No calls would be made by me. No contact would come from me.If he wanted me, he would have to make an effort.

He has called. Four times in fact. Without me calling first. Twice for holidays and twice for no reason what so ever. Just to say hi.
It ain't much, but it's a start. We have a long long road ahead of us. But at least I don't feel alone in it. He SEEMS to be willing to meet me half way. I guess time will tell.

Hello again all! The holidays are over and I'm finally able to get back here to share with you. It was a crazy season to say the least.
I want to talk about so many things, but I'm going to pick just one at a time.

As Lori said in the previous post, we were able to spend some precious and limited time together last month. I find myself looing more and more forward to these visits. I have to admit, this last visit was a bittersweet one. As much as I enjoyed spending time with my fellow bastards in Ohio and with Lori and brother T, much of this was overshadowed by my daughter and her release from the 'County Country Club' as Lori so eloquently put it. Lets be frank, we all know there was nothing country clubish about her visit to the local pokey. Especially since this was not her first stint there, but it was her longest. I missed Thanksgiving and Christmas with her. It was not a contented time for me. Serenity and contentment has not been a part of my life lately.

As you know, I found some lil' treats in D's room as I prepped it for her return. You would think I would have had that done already. I had plenty of time to do it. But the daunting, dark task of digging through her belongings and happening accross something she had been using to pollute her system was simply too much for me. Thank God for my hubby. If it wasn't for him, I probably would have not had the strength or courage to even enter that room. Lucky for me, I have a strong man in my corner.

I found numerous items that made the reality of how deep she was into some things very clear. I knew there were issues, I knew much of what was going on, but to have that infallable proof sitting right there-well-it was very heartwrenching.
As we got things going, clothes were pitched out in the hall to be washed, garbage was stuffed into bags, the pollutents were disposed of. Brother T was there for it all. He stood in the doorway watching. I barked for him to 'take this', 'throw this away'. He carried out empty beer and liquor bottles. The whole time watching me. He did this quietly and without hesitation. And he came back every time. Eventually he stayed downstairs with Lori. I think it was just too much for him. I can't say I don't understand.
A few times I myself came down with the pouch of my hoodie filled with bottles in all different forms. I flushed, I threw away. And I died just a slight bit with every bit of it. Part of me swirled and washed down with those mysterious little pills.

After we were done, I came down and just need to breath. Actually-I needed to smoke. So out to the garage I went. It was quiet. It was freezing cold. And it was overwhelming. It wasn't long before Lori's head poked out. Those big blue eyes burrowing into mine. Momma had come to comfort her baby. I sat on the chest freezer and had to chuckle as she tried to climb her way up there. She was completely turned the wrong way and ended up with her ass in the air and her hands on the freezer. But she made it, although she left much in the way of grace.
We chatted briefly and the door crept open again. There stood a very uncomfortable T, looking sheepish. He came out with no coat on and shivered while he listened to me poo poo about the fears I had about D. I questioned what I had failed at so much that my beautiful, intelligent daughter had found this path. T didn't hesitate for one second. He grabbed me in a deathhug. I buried my face in his chest and just cried. Lori watched this transpire and talked to us about genetics, placing blame where it belongs, about being us. T listened. He held me with one arm and grabbed her hand with the other.

I would love to tell you all it was a wonderful tender family moment. I would like to explain how bonding it was for the three of us. How I wished it could go on forever. But I'll be honest. IT SUCKED. But thankfully it sucked for us all collectively. And we shared it together.

I had known since day one that we were all going to be just fine. I never doubted that our lives would become intertwined like a regular family. But this was the first time I felt it on such a massive level. It hung in the air. It took on its own persona. The 'elephant in the room' as Lori would say. I won't even try to pretend that we are regular, normal or even average. Thats ok. We do odd and strange very very well. It works for us. If it ain't broke-don't fix it, right?

As much as I hated dealing with this, I'm glad I had Lori and T there. They helped me keep my sanity and vent my feelings. We may not be average, but we always make it work. Thats all that matters in the end.

Halloween approaches and it is my favorite time of year. The leaves are incredible here in Michigan and they simply take your breath away. That and the bitter cold that sets in, but hey, everyplace has it's pitfalls.
At this time of year I am always busy constructing costumes for my kids. This year I am facing twin ice cream cones and R2D2. The older ones will dress, but only to be cool....cause begging for candy isn't cool enough for them any more.

Windows are covered in Frankenstein, Dracula and mummies. Yards are strewn with mock tombstones, witches and black cats with arched backs. Bats and creepy crawlies hang from branches and a feeling of mystic static fills the air. We can be what we can't normally be in our daily lives. Princesses, super heros, silly things and scary things. We have that one day to shed any social stigmas and let loose. And who doesn't love that?
This year has a different feel to it than it normally does for me. I couldn't quite put my finger on it. I passed it off as my kids getting older and not having that accustomed wide eyed knaviety as in years past. I pretended the past few years had worn on my own inner child and I was just feeling more adult than I had before. I had a ton of excuses for it, a list as long as my hubby's arm. (and boy does he have long arms.) But I wasn't being honest with myself. It was easier to pretend, like I had for my whole life. But I can't pretend any more. I've lost that ability.

I'm not growing older and losing my stary eyed Halloween spirit. I'm growing into what I have always been but didn't want to admit. I am the skeleton in the closet. Me. With no costume. Just me being me.
Now this is quite a time in life to realize you are a big fat secret, one to be buried forever and forgotten. Or at the very least barely thought of. I'm getting close to 40, you would think this revelation would have happened years ago. I think part of it did, but I wouldn't allow myself to wrap my brain around it enough to give it a title or a place in my life. But as I age, I find it harder and harder to keep up false personas. I don't have the time or energy to devote to it and quite frankly, I don't care to. It is what it is. I am what I am.

I am the skeleton. That lurking looming presence that stikes fear into the heart of my father. The thing that he has worked so hard to lock away behind that closet door and leave forever. He tried to throw away the key, but I just kicked in the door. Who needs a damn key?

It was all fun when I thought I was donning a costume to be something else. Taking on the form of something I wasn't. It was exciting and freeing. But once you come face to face with the fact that you are and always have been nothing but that freakishly dark secret in someones emotional closet-it kind of loses the magic of dressing the part.

Maybe this year I'll be more honest with my costume. I'm thinking a plastic knife protruding out of my back and through my heart might be more appropriate and much easier to pull off this year.

Happy hauntings everyone. BOO!!! yeah....whatever....

I was at work just the other day, laughing with a friend about old 'Peanuts' episodes. We talked about the specials they came out with for the holidays and such and giggled at ourselves about how we waited all year to see those. It was a light conversation and very enjoyable. I told her that as a child I was not one to cry. But I clearly remember one thing that was GUARANTEED to make me sob hysterically and unconsolably. The Peanuts show called "Snoopy Come Home".

I told her how it was horrible for me, but I wait every year for that one show to air. My sister also remembered and had actually spoken over the years about my violent physical reaction to watching this, every single year. I was literally a blubbering mess, tears and snot, incoherant mumbles and jarring uncontrolable sobs that took HOURS to subside. Once about 2 years ago my sister was telling the story and said "this one here (pointing to me) NEVER cried. You could damn near lop her arm off and she wouldn't cry, but let Snoopy Come Home play-and she was bawling"

I found amusment in the fact that she remembered that about me. I felt slightly embarassed that a childs show was able to have such an effect on me. And I passed it off as silly kid antics.
Until now. Until just a few days ago. Thats when I had an adoptee epiphany. One that now explains so much about me. Who ever would have thunk that Snoopy would be the one to open such a huge floodgate for a 37 year old woman?

The episode is about Snoopy and his former owner at the puppy mill. She had fallen ill and needed him to 'come home'. He packed his little hobo pack with food dish nestled inside and said a hard goodbye to dear ol' Charlie Brown. Charlie was confused, worried and hurt. He wanted to know if he was coming back, why he was leaving him, what did he have to do to make Snoopy stay.
But Snoopy, in a strong bold move of unadulterated loyalness, said goodbye and set off on his journey to his former owner.
He sat at her bedside, nurtured her, loved her, tended to her needs and showered her in laughter and companionship. Then the time came, he had to choose. Charlie Brown and his family or the little girl that he used to belong to. He loved them both so desperately. He did not want to hurt either of them. He was confused and torn.

And I totally FELT that. No matter how many years passed or how many times I saw that same show, I still felt that pain and confusion for Snoopy. It was like it was me.

I never understood before. But now I do. IT WAS ME. That cartoon beagle was me!!!

Now the re-coup time of viewing this show was a couple days. It literally drained me of everything I had. We as a family passed it off as flu/cold, as all kids get. No big deal, but now, I'm convinced it was more. I had a mental meltdown everytime that show played and I was rebounding.

One more thing that I remembered that had long since been forgotten, was that I don't ever remember Mom and Dad being there to watch it with me. I was always with my older sister. That was an evening they seemed to have plans. And I don't think it was a coincidence. I truly believe they couldn't stand to see me like that, they didn't have the words to make it better. No amount of hugs and soothing was ever enough. And I think that they felt utterly helpless and possibly worthless. I can only imagine what went through their minds at this time. I'm now a parent, and if I saw my child have such a reaction to something, I don't know I could handle it either.

How is it that a cartoon can so easily and accurately capture the emotions of adopton? How could it take me decades to figure out that was why I reacted the way I did? It should have been obvious to me, but it wasn't.

Snoopy brought me to my own feelings, something no one on earth was able to do-and I didn't even know it was happening. I have to stop here, I can feel the same old emotions creeping in.

What a week this has been. Not only was my youngest brother up for a huge opportunity in his life (and NAILED it, just for the record! yay!!) but this was the weekend I was to get my aparents together to meet my bdad. They have met Lori-and it was incredible. She was coming along, because they invited her back. They wanted her there and were truly looking forward to meeting Jim. I was on cloud nine as you can imagine. Seriously, how many adoptees have the chance to get the parents that gave them life in the same room as the parents that gave them a life? Not many, let me tell you.
At first, it was all on track, he said he would be there. He was nervous of course, but he was doing it for me. My father was stepping outside his comfort zone to give me something that I deeply wanted.
Then he thought about it and decided he couldn't do it. It was too much for him. Which I understand. I really do. I won't even pretend to know the emotions he felt. The fear of judgement, of the 'look' or any other racing thoughts that sprung into his head. But he could have told me first. Instead he told Lori. I can see why, she has been there. She faced them months ago and lived. She was just like him-the parent that willingly signed away their child. She could relate to him on a level that I could only imagine.
Eventually he did call me. He fessed up that he was not comfortable with it. That it didn't seem right to him. OK...at least we are being honest. I, being Lori's daughter, saw this as a time of honesty and I let him have some. I told him that this WAS NOT my idea. THEY wanted him there. THEY planned this last year when he bailed out. Not me.
I told him how they tried to help me when I was 14 and so desperately lost and in need of him and Lori in my life. THEY TRIED. For me, only because it meant so much to me. (of course the courts stopped them, but the point is they tried)
I told him I had never asked him for anything, that I never wanted anything-except to know him. Just to HAVE HIM, nothing more. That was enough. I told him I was afraid that one day something would happen to him and I, his only child, would be at his funeral learning about what kind of person he was, because I can't seem to be let into his realm.
Needless to say he was stunned. He truly seemed to understand that this was healing for me, mom and dad, but mostly him. He was being offered the opportunity to SEE FIRST HAND the life his daughter was given. My house, room, family...all of it. It could help him with his feelings of guilt. I could have released him from that pain he has carried for 36 years.
After a few moments of talking he said he could do it. That he would be there. I told him I do not take commitments lightly, if he said he was going to be there, I was going to expect him there. He said the words I wanted so desperatly to hear. "I PROMISE I'll be there."

I jumped on the phone to relay the news to everyone. Mom and Dad, Lori, sister...everyone. Hubby warned me, he told me not to expect it to happen, but I brushed his concerns off with not a second thought. HE SAID HE WAS COMING!!! HE PROMISED!

As the weekend approached, my nerves were maxed out. I struggled with concentrating at work, home chores were staggering to accomplish, I was extremely sensitive about everything. I just could not contain myself.

Friday came, Lori was heading down that day so we would have some time together. We were to meet Jim on Saturday and together we would head to my parents. But before she could leave her house, Jim called. He was not coming. He told her I had BULLIED him into agreeing, that he was no longer losing any sleep over this, that there was no reason for meeting them, that I cornered him. Best of all....he told her to tell me.
He never called me. Not once. I am not even worth the time or the dime to call and tell himself.

Lori and I went anyway-without him. I had a great time. We laughed, we told stories, my sister gave Lori a book filled with pictures and memories of me. We stuffed our bellies with bbq and brownies. And I know in my heart this is not the last time. There will be more days spent just enjoying each others company.
But not for Jim. Mom said she was done trying to open up to him. I don't blame her. I totally understood how she felt.

As much as I sympathize with Jim and is feelings, as much as I want to say it's ok...maybe next time. I can't. I won't. In 2 years he has made no effort to have me in his life. None. He love me, I DO know that much. But I am simply not the daughter he expected. I will never live up to the imaginary expectations he had. He gave me up to give me more. I assume he figures if I am nothing more than a factory rat then I could have just stayed in the town I was born in.
Yes I am feeling sorry for myself. Yes I need to quit being so dramatic. But I won't and I know that.

This is not about one weekend that didn't turn out. It was about the basis of trust, an outreach by him to show that he cares.
It was about me wanting to love him and wanting to have him love me back. Not for any other reason then he is my father and I am his daughter.

Over time our reunion has taken some real turns. At first Lori and I treated each other with kid gloves, we were both cautious and leery of the other. My feelings are that this stemmed from the crap choices we both made in younger years. Neither of us seem to have much common sense when it came to the people we brought into our lives. We both had checkered pasts with people that had broken our hearts. Not just in romantic relations either, friends and family alos dug their claws into us and each of them left an invisible scar.
So when the time came for us to have our time-we both viewed the other as a threat. "what dose she want?", "what did she mean by THAT?", "is she setting me up for something?", "whats her REAL reason for wanting to be with me?"

the questions were unending, the uneasiness was evident and to be honest-it was diffcult for both of us to view the other for what they truly were-family.
It was slow and tedious for the first few years...yes I said years. When I say both of us were leery, I'm not exaggerating. Self perservation was very high in both of us.
But we both wanted it so bad. We were both willing to take what came and walk away broken, beaten and half dead. We are like that. When we commit-it's a fight to the death, we both had proven that by our past track record in relationships. We don't give in without a fight and we don't back down until the last minute.
Funny how we were doing the same thing in the same way and had never encountered someone else like this before. I was just like her, she was just like me. We were either going to make this the most glorious things in our lives or we were going to kill each other. And with the two of us-it truly was a coin toss on what direction it would go.
But as you can see-we made it.

Now last night we had a conversation. It really gnawed at my mind and I find myself struggling greatly with it. I have never had interest in Lori's family. In my mind, they are there, but meh, whatever. If I never met her brother or mother I would have been fine. And if I never ever meet her other brother, I will sleep just fine at night. OH WELL, he is nothing to me. I do search the pictures, looking for that glimpse of myself in those strange faces. It's not there. I don't share resemblance to them. Just Lori. But they honestly mean nothing to me. As long as I have Lori and my brothers, the others can take a hike.

BUT.......

Jim's family makes me crazy. I find myself daydreaming of their acceptance. I search the few faces I have seen online desperate to see myself. Not like Lori's family pics, that is curiosity, with Jim's family it's more like desperation. WHY??? Why do I feel that? Is it due to the deeply passionate but oddly distant relationship of Jim and myself? Is it because he so truly believed I would be accepted and told me over and over about how it was going to be so wonderful-and it's not? Disappointment? That whole 'wanting what you can't have' thing kicking in?

I don't know-but I hate it. I am not one to beg for love. If a boyfriend cheated on me I didn't slit their tires or bash their windows-I walked away. Screw 'em, don't need 'em. If a friend betrayed me I didn't drag them through the mud or spill any dirty tidbit I knew-I let them sit alone in their own mess. Oh well, hope they are happy, see 'ya.
But the entire mass of people (yes I mean mass, it's a huge family) want nothing to do with me and it eats at my brain like a cancer. I have met one aunt, her husband, my father and their mother (my g-ma) THATS IT. I don't think I ever meet the others. Jim continues with his dilusions that we are going to have family trips, spend time together, just get to know each other. But I am convinced he is making an effort to smooth over the huge build up he gave me from day one. He believed in his heart that his long lost, unknown daughter was going to swoop in and take her place in the family. He was happy to find me and he expected them to welcome me with open arms and all would be like a fairy tale. And they didn't. They literally want nothing to do with me. Not even to satisify curosity. I am nothing to them, will never be anything and I am certainly not worth the time to meet, even once.

Normally I would shrug and just move on. But this makes me ache. To add insult to injury, I compeltely question my value in Jim's life. At first when we spoke you could hear the excitement in his voice. Even if we talked about basically nothing-he was overjoyed to just hear me on the other end. But not any more. Now it's pleasant, he tells me how much he misses me, but I can't feel it any more. I understand that like all relationships things settle, I don't expect backflips just because I picked up the phone, but maybe, just once in a while HE could call ME. He could spend more than 10 minutes on the phone with me. He could say something other than "what do you need? is things ok? is something wrong?"
No...nothing is wrong I tell him, I just miss you. Now he works obscene hours. I would not be surprised if he literally worked 18-20 hours of the day. He completely comsumes he world with work, and there is simply no time for me. Maybe I am diluting myself. Maybe his curosity is curbed and so he is ready to drop it. Not that he doesn't love me, I know for a fact that he does. But more along the lines of he can not, will not make room for me in his life. And neither will his family. At least he had the decency to meet me and form an opinion of me before he cast me aside. They would not even be bothered by that. Out of sight-out of mind.

I hate, hate, hate that not one of them will give me even one iota of a chance. The one aunt I have met is gracious, she has befriended me online but I wonder if it is because she wants me around of if its more like she wants to keep tabs on me and streamline my contact. Her husband, well, he thinks I'm the greatest, but I don't dare initiate further solo contact with him. I did not come to them to cause civil unrest among them, I just wanted to know them. I can not and will not put him against their firing squad for my own piece of mind. He has to live every day with them, I do not.

I just don't know how to cope with the lack of caring in this reunion. Lori and I were leery but willing to go down in flames to make it work. We are fighters and we take care of your own, I really had no right to assume that it would be the same on Jim's side, but I guess I did. He told me it was going to be great, aunt told me that, grandma told me that and aunts hubby told me that. And I believed them. I should have kept myself on guard and stuck to my game plan, but I let them in and now I am paying the price. In the grand scheme of things with reunion I have been very lucky. There are some that have been in far worse positions that me and they survived. I just want to find a way to give up on it and walk away, let it be, without feeling the sting for the next 36 years.

Ahhhh....adoption. An emotional mind rape of a lifetime.

It has been quite some time since Lori and I have been able to contribute. Life has been rather hectic and finding the extra time to just sit and post is a diffcult task at time.
But...I made a discovery last night, one that really kicked me in the teeth. And I had to share.

I have a former friend, it ended very badly several years ago. I won't name names, it's just not importent. But we both are members of a public forum. I have taken great pains to avoid having mutual friends for fear of putting them in the middle of somthing nasty. Last night as I was poking around it popped up that we had 4 mutual friends. My curosity got the better of me and I peeked in her profile to see who it was we both had added.
That's when a name did everything short of reach out and kick me in the teeth. She had a friend on her list that shared the last name of my biological father. Now it is'nt odd, it's a reasonably common name. A feeling of uneasiness came over me though. I just had to find out if this was some relation of mine.
So I backtracked teh best I could and found the name of her husband and made a call to a friend that has resources. We came to the conclusion that we are about 98% sure this IS a cousin of mine. Same last name, same hometown and bringing up names of other relatives that I know for sure are connected to me.
My heart sank, my head pounded and I had a knot in my stomach. How could this be happening?

If or when I do get the opportunity to meet the rest of my biological family, she is going to have the capasity to destroy my chances to have a relationship with them. Being the outsider, I will have no defense against her attacks, I know if I were in the same boat I would believe any stories that my long term friend told me over some woman that basically fell from the sky claiming to be family.
I know some of you reading this and thinking I am over-reacting. Maybe you are right, but I KNOW this woman. I know what she is capable and WILLING to do. Our relationship severed on a very sour note. I have no idea how she felt-but I was devastated. Twenty years I spent at her side, believing in her and supporting her. Only to find out in the end...I was a naive fool. It ruined my faith in people for quite some time. And now, I am facing it ruining my future relationship with my biological family.

I guess I need to come to terms that being a part of their world is just not possible. That for all of my eternity I will be on the outside looking in. I guess it's a good thing I have thick skin to protect me from the cold, or else I might not be able to handle this last blow to my ego.

I have needed time to process all of the things that happened during my first ever sleep over type visit with my daughter. There wasn't one piece of it that I would have traded for anything in the world. We spent our first new years together. No big gushy hugs or kisses, mostly watching the younger kids throw crap all over the house. You call it confetti, I call it a mess that needs to be cleaned. Don't get me wrong, I'm a slob. My house could be way cleaner. But the amount of confetti that was being thrown and the places it was getting into just made me shake my head. I did enjoy the fact that Rachael didn't bat an eye over it. She just let them fly and when it was over the broom came out and it was cleaned up. One of the many conveniences of hard wood floors.

The older kids came home shit faced. I thought that was pretty funny. They were only gone for 3 hours and two of them could barely walk. They did the right thing though, they called and Rach went and got them. The buckets and towels arranged strategical next to the sleeping arrangements with a wet wash cloth hung on the side was a sight to behold. Rach put her brother down on the couch and tied his long tresses back to make it easier for him to utilize the bucket. I started to get up off the couch to take over since it was my responsibility to tend my drunken son, and I immediately sat back down. I figured it was nothing less than a pleasure for her to tend her baby bro after all these years. She got his settled and I arranged the towel with the bucket and wash rag. After a good vomit there is nothing like a cool rag to either wipe the mouth or the forehead.

My grand daughter was being tended to by her boyfriend up stairs. No worries there, he is a fine young man very capable of handling my sometimes over bearing grand daughter and that in it self was a treat to see. Two down two to go.

We went into the kitchen with the remaining two who were still on their feet. the fun never stops with intoxicated teens around. I learned so much that night. My other son's aversion to the room spinning is to spin himself. So on his toes (which is natural for him, he lives on his toes) he spins like a ballerina or his mother on the dance floor in her younger and drunken years. I was very afraid he was going to land on his face. We already have one kid with a permanent bonded tooth, no need for them both to have one. When he finally wound down and got ready for the other couch where his bucket, towel and wash cloth await, he had the sense to pull his own hair back and pony tail it. Not long after being in the horizontal position, he started to utilize his bucket. Instead of leaning over the edge of the couch like his brother who couldn't move if he wanted to, this one gets off the couch, on his hands and knees and actually starts spinning in circles from the waist up around the top of the bucket. Too bad we didn't have the sense to film it as he denied it the next day. All in all it was an awesome time. Family at it's finest. Sharing and caring for one another in a way that only people who really love you will. The next day was less fun but still good entertainment. Watching a hang over is much better than feeling a hang over. At least it was for me. It took most of the day for the really wasted two to get up and moving. Poor T, hung over as he was, there was still no escaping the throws of being an uncle. He was hung on, tugged at, hair pulled, loud in your face children everywhere and it was probably killing him. D got the dogs. He went to bed with them, and spent most of the day with them as they too would not leave him alone. Too much entertainment for me. I was loving every bit of it.

The grand daughter awakes, looking like someone who was shot at and missed, shit at and hit. My heart over flows with excitement. I can't wait to watch her struggle through the day. Needless to say it was a slow moving, less than quite, aspirin filled afternoon and evening. The dead awake after 5pm.

When we got home, I had little time to reflect, there were things to do around the house, things to take care of with friends, pictures to select for an audition, and colleges to finish up applying for. As wonderful as it was, the visit with Rachael's sister, her parents, the seeing where she was for so many years and how safe she was, the finally laying eyes upon the people who took my daughter in as their own. I still felt something was missing. I actually felt guilty about it.

A week had passed and not a word about how her parents felt after the meeting. Nothing from her sister passed on through Rach about how it made her feel to sit in the same room with the mystery woman who was 13, on drugs, a run away, and clueless as to who she had slept with all those years ago, compliments of the agency we used. I don't know why I expected more, I just did. It was so monumental for me. I was hoping the feeling was the same for them, but it seemed that it was exciting at the time and now it's over. No fan fair, no big revelations, nothing. I was expecting more and trying to tell myself not to be disappointed. Maybe it was that they needed to keep their distance. Maybe I was still capable of taking something from them and they needed to keep some of their guard up. Maybe I just didn't want it to end and it had.

Then it came. Rach called me last night and had finally gotten a hold of her sister and her parents. Her parents called to thank her for "allowing them" to be a part of her reunion. There it was, the thing I had been expecting and thought wasn't going to happen. The thing I thought I was the only one feeling. It had affected them. They feel the same thing I do, a connection, a link, an answer to the mystery of why their (our) daughter thinks and acts the way she does. The inner working of what makes her tick. They saw it, and it made sense, for the first time in 36 years. Just like I saw where she resided, how farming was a big part of who she was. How could I understand that? I have no connection to farming what so ever (growing pot maybe). But in her family, farming is everything. It is the profession that makes all other professions possible. It is the pride of who they are as a whole.

Her sister told her that Rachael seems more at peace than ever before. It was visibly noticeable. Rach agreed. No more secrets, imagination putting faces to that which we had not known, trying to piece together stories without actual puzzle pieces. And best of all no more silent panic attacks. No one has to worry any more. We met face to face and no one died.

Now the evolution of phone numbers. Rach's sister talked to her parents and agreed that it is important that they have my phone number. In all actuality it makes sense. They will know long before I, if something were to happen to Rach. I know Rach's husband would let me know as soon as possible, but what if; what if something happened to both of them. Funny how that happens. Her whole life thus far has gone by with never a thought of me being on the roster of contacts, and now after one meeting my name and number are being requested. That's something I never expected or even thought about to be honest. I had once hoped that we would one day meet. I gave up. I wanted it, but felt that it would not be a realization. Now I'm on the roster.

How unbelievable awesome is that?

Since Rachael can't have another copy of her original birth certificate, (yes she had one and of all things it was stolen) and I lied about her fathers name on her original, AND she would need BOTH sets of parents permission to receive a new copy, would a blood test proving her father is in fact her father suffice in a court of law so that we parents (all 4 of us) could give our permission for her to have a new birth certificate?

Would it be possible to have her fathers real name inserted where the slightly altered name off of a cigarette pack is? I wonder? It will be impossible to get one even with every one's permission since her father is not the name listed on the original. A blood test would be the only way to clear that. But if we did clear that would it be possible to get her an original birth certificate with her mother and father's real name on it?

Any thoughts?

I recently had someone remind me of something that i had all but forgotten about. It was a conversation with my sister that took place about 3 years after my reunion with Lori. I was talking about this or that, probably beeming with pride over my new found family, the love i felt from them and generally just on cloud nine.
She tried with all her might to be supportive and happy for me, but you could hear in her voice the hollowness.

I think i have blogged before about my sister. Our relationship over the years had been nothing short of caustic. We are the polar opposite of one another. Not one thing in common and it had caused many problems in our lives. We now joke that if a gift was to be bought for the other, each of us would go to the store and pick out something we absolutely hated and buy it for the other. It worked like a charm, if i hated it-she loved it and vice versa.
We were never a close bunch. They were, meaning mom, dad and sister. But I never blended in with them. My life was spent watching them and the comfort they had with one another and wishing I could have that with SOMEONE. Then Lori came into my life and I had that. I finally knew what it was like to be understood.
You can imagine my anger when my afamily didn't immediately warm to her. I tried to be patient and show them this was not about them. I WAS NOT LEAVING. But the fear never subsided in their hearts. Even if I was the outsider, the oddball, I was still loved. And wanted.

So as I said, about 3 years had passed and I was desperately trying to find a place in the whole mix where I could feel comfortable talking about Lori. A place where I didn't feel I was issuing a disrespect to the family I loved so much. Thats when it happened-sister finally came out with the truth. And it hurt.

I can't remember how it unfolded, but I finally got the nerve to ask why it was so hard for everyone. I asked if it was them-would they do anything different? Don't I deserve to know where I started life, where I came from, what my roots were?
My questions became increasingly desperate. I was hurt and angry. When I found Lori I was 28, hardly looking for a new 'mommy'. It was about me, not them. About who and what I was.
Sister-in her classic calm cool and collected persona (as usual) began to explain. About half way through I wanted to cover my ears and yell 'blah,blah,blah....' as loudly as I could, but I didn't. I listened. And to be honest with you-I truly feel in my heart-THIS one conversation was the turning point for many things. Including a whole new respect and love for her and the rest of my afamily.
She simply asked "what about me?"

What about you?! Yeah, what about you? This isn't about YOU....it's about ME....'what about you?' <>
She then spoke of how mom and dad had been her whole world, that she was very close to them both and all she ever wanted was to have this with me too. But it just didn't work out that way. I never was able to mesh with them. I just didn't fit in.
Now I had this whole 'new/old' family that I adored and wanted to spend so much time with and made me so HAPPY, where did that leave them? Where would our relationship be in 10 years. I had already made long term plans with Lori, but did I have any with them?

That was a ton of bricks. I was hurting them, scaring them. They thought I was going to run off with Lori and never come back. AND IT BOTHERED THEM. For years i rebelled against their whole way of life. I lashed out. I was the root cause of the problems. I was an angry, hurt, spoiled little brat that never took responsibility for my actions. I blamed (silently) them for not understanding me, but it was me. Not them.
And even though I put them through hell-they STILL wanted me. And Lori scared them. She had the power to take me away forever and they knew it. Yet they still tried to be supportive, they never bashed her or shunned me for her. They simply nodded and smiled. But you could see it in their eyes.
I put myself in their shoes. I am a custodial step parent. Not quite the same thing, but it was all I had to base off. I imagined my step children's mother coming to take them back forever. I had raised them, I may not be their mom, but I was THE mom. It made me angry, it made my heart ache. It made me slightly understand how my family must be feeling.
Sister wasn't trying to steal my glory about finding Lori, she was asking where her place would be in the future. She was timidly asking to be a part of my world, she wanted to be my sister. Not just that girl I grew up with.
My head started to swim at this point. My stomach was in knots, relevations are never easy and this one was a doozey.

She didn't miss a beat though. She could feel that I was listening and was finally 'getting it'. She went on to say that when something happens to mom and dad she would be alone. I would have this great new family that loved me and I would not want or need her. Where would she fit in? Imagine-all those years I wondered where I fit in and now here she was, in MY shoes. She was just as lost as I had been for so long.
I FINALLY UNDERSTOOD.
I was so wrapped up in what I was feeling I never stopped to consider what they were feeling. I am sisters only sibling-if I left she would be alone.

What she didn't know was, I would never let that happen. EVER. I reassured her that she was my sister, we were a package deal. I would never leave her or mom and dad. I was just trying to find myself. I needed them too. I loved them. More than words could explain.
She didn't know, because I never took the time to tell her or anyone else.

Since that day, we have made huge progress. I have never felt more at ease with who I am and where I belong. I know one day mom and dad will not be with us. Its inevitable, no wishing in the world can change that. But now my sister knows that no matter where I am, she will always be with me. I will never leave her or the rest of my family. Lori, Jim and the rest of my 'new/old' family does not change my love for my afamily. It just adds to the fun.

We can and will make this all work. IT IS POSSIBLE. And if anyone can do it-I can. And I will. And I will leave no one behind.

i have been thinking alot lately about home. where is home? what is home? many seem to feel it is where you let your hair down. relax and just be you. some feel it is wherever your loved ones are. and some consider it where you contain your belongings.

i cant say i do or honestly ever have felt "home". i always feel i am visiting somewhere. not a permanent resident. this, i believe is one of my adoption issues.
growing up i was the oddball. i did not fit into my family. they are wonderful, solid people that truly did make an effort to welcome and support me. but they just did not understand who or what i was. they thought if they loved me that was all i would ever need. a mentality that the general population has, because they take their roots for granted. if i knew nothing else i would too. but i do know something else.

i will not bore you with details, but i will be moving from my house sometime this year. probably by the fall. this house is my first attempt at home ownership. for 6 years i have struggled and fought to make it work. i failed.
at first i condemned myself for every mistake made. i blamed hubby spending. i pointed the finger at the government. then i realized-what difference does it make? who the hell actually cares who's fault it is or why? no one, including me.

so now i am faced with yet another pack, haul and unpack. yehaw...... taking your entire life, cramming it into apple boxes from the store and schlepping it into the back of whatever vehicle is available only to arrive, break your back to remove the generically marked containers of your life and place them somewhere foreign. nothing has a place, you cant find the silverware and you seem to have lost 90% of your towels. and did you remember to pick up toilet paper on your way.......probably not.

so this pending circus of events brings me to my question. where is home? my hubby feels it is wherever the kids and i are. the shell does not matter. so long as we are together. (he is such a softie at times. love that)
the kids think it is wherever they have their toys and clothes. (very practical they are)
but i simply don't know. i don't. in my mind, you should FEEL home. it should encompass you in security. it should listen to your laughter and tears. it should carry the brunt of the outside world. it should give you peace.
maybe i am putting too much empathises on all this. over thinking it-but maybe i'm not. i honestly don't know.

is my need for a place to call home irrational? is it something deeper lingering in my heart? do i just need to shut up and hang my family pictures on the wall and make it something?
i feel almost guilty. like i should be comfortable and content wherever i land. i have the people i love in my life and they love me back-what difference does it make where we are? but in my mind it does make a difference. i crave that stability and "aahhhhhh" feeling when i wolk in the door. i want to be excited to pull in the driveway and here that voice in my head say 'finally'.

i will continue looking for my home. where i belong. and until then, i will simply relish my shell, with my loved ones with me, surrounded by my belongings. one day i will feel it. and i can hardly wait.

Today was Father's Day and i called my biological father. it is our first since our reunion. i honestly didn't know what to expect, but i picked up the phone and rang anyway. i knew the conversation would be short, he works ALL the time, but i wanted him to know i was thinking of him. even if i could only have him for 5 minutes, it would be OUR 5 minutes.

he answers and i loudly sing into the phone "happy fathers day!!!!!!" first i am met with pure silence. then i hear that silly little giggle he has (no matter what he says-he DOES giggle). he was able to muster up a 'i have never heard that one before!' through his honestly delighted chuckles. all i could do was smile. a big goofy smile. just to hear that much pleasure in his voice makes me melt.

he admitted i took him by surprise, which was my goal. i knew he never thought i would call. that i would have my day with my adad and he would not be thought of. but he was. he always is.

i got my expected 5 minutes with him. he was in the middle of building something or another at work, as usual. but the amount of time i had his attention was the point. the point was that i had his attention at all. that he stopped, even for just a moment, to talk to his new-found daughter so she could wish him a happy fathers day was enough. the glee in his tone of voice was all i wanted. i know we may not have much of a relationship yet, i know our lives are like traffic passing in opposite directions at breakneck speeds, i know that this will all take time and work.
but i also know that i am loved. that he may not talk to me often, but it makes him happy just to talk to me at all.

i do not hide my impatience about wanting him more. i want to hear his voice all the time. i want to see him every week. i want to know all his life story. i don't hide that, but the tone he takes with me lets me know it all will be ok one day. that we are in this for the long haul. and that, i can live with.

to both my wonderful dads, i love you and thank you for giving my the opportunity to be a part of your lives. happy fathers day.

this has nothing to do with adoption, but when you come across a story so utterly disgusting and pathetic, you need to share it with whomever will listen. i found such a story. one of pure evil and vindictiveness. of one person preying on the weaknesses of another, devouring an innocent soul. intentional disregard for the feelings and emotional trauma that could possibly be irreversible.

this blatant, horrid act was inflicted upon a 5 year old-BY HIS TEACHER.

a trusted adult that is supposed to be a guiding force for young minds. a person that is supposed to nurture and lead our next generation. a woman that is supposed to set examples on how interact with adversity and individuality with basic humane understanding.

i want you to read this story, pay attention to the update on the left side of the page. read it and put yourself in this child's shoes. soak in the words and imagine that was YOUR child.

http://www.tcpalm.com/news/2008/may/23/st-lucie-teacher-has-class-vote-whether-5-year-old/

this woman's name is wendy portillo. she has been a teacher for years. she has stood in front of countless young children and taught them what they need to function in society. there is a saying "all i need to know in life i learned in kindergarten"
and we wonder how society got so bad. we ask who is to blame, why people do such terrible things to one another. why, why, why.......

maybe because they learned it in kindergarten, from their teacher, whom they look up to and respect. who they see as an ideal adult.

now this has a personal note for me. my niece has aspergers. mostly it affects their social skills. but overall, they are high functioning, intelligent kids. their brain just is wired a little different. but the is not the point of this, NO ONE should be subjected to this type of abuse. that's just what it is ABUSE. he was singled out, made a spectacle of, ridiculed, shunned, verbally beaten and persecuted. all at the hands of someone they love. children love their teachers. they feel they are part of their family. especially at such a young age.

when i first read this i was furious. beyond furious, i was literally sick to my stomach. who are we entrusting our children to? what lesson did she teach the others in that class? how will they react to someone else that doesn't fit HER cookie cutter image of normal?

i am asking you all to spread the word. this woman has no right to continue teaching her polluted ideas to other impressionable minds. she has to potential to taint thousands of minds and reinforce prejudice and cruelty.

use your voices now to stop this, speak out against any further dissolution of human compassion. show people like this that using their position to knowingly destroy another will not be accepted.
blog, write letters, make some calls, whatever. send a message-a message that we are not going to take this any more, that this wendy portillo is WRONG. that morningdale elementary in port st. lucie, florida is WRONG for allowing her to maintain her job.

help this boy and others like him, find a safe place to grow and flourish.

-rachael