I'm getting ready to announce later this week to the general public that my husband and I are expecting. Of course, we are very excited. You can imagine my joy when we first found out we were pregnant, something that I have longed for most of my adult life. We've told a handful of close friends and family so far, and it's been a little interesting.
A lot of people in my life do not know that I placed a baby for adoption. Almost no one at my work knows, but for those who were friends of mine during my pregnancy. I haven't told anyone at church. I haven't even gotten up the gumption to tell my in-laws (something I mean to remedy very soon).
So, when I've talked to the handful of people I've told thus far, I've gotten several comments that make me shrink a little inside.
Advice for first time pregnancy. Or things like, "This is your first, and your first is always..." or "My first was like this, but my second was like this, so just wait until you get pregnant the second time..." Or worse, a friend of mine trying to talk me into joining her participating in a first-time mothers study. How do I say, I'm sorry, I can't. You see, I'm not eligible, because of an illegitimate child that I bore seven years ago that I never told you about...
Although, I don't know, maybe this is worse: I had my first prenatal visit a few weeks back, and I knew that I was going to have to discuss my first pregnancy. I was prepared for it. When the nurse took my initial information, she asked about any previous pregnancies, and I gave her the stats. But she got nosy, so I ended up telling her that I had placed the baby for adoption.
Then the CNM came in, with a grad student accompanying her. They both talked to me for awhile, and again, I was asked about my previous pregnancy, and again, I explained about placing him for adoption. It wasn't pleasant, but I was prepared for it.
But then, a week later, I had to call the on-call nurse with a concern. And I had to go through it all again, over the phone. That time, I wasn't prepared to have to talk about it, and it really upset me.
I intend to ask if someone will put a note in my file, hopefully just to stop the nosy-ness.
I know that it's going to continue. We're planning to make it public knowledge in the next day or two. More people will gush, and more people will unknowingly say things that sting a little. Not because of what they're saying, but because this isn't my first pregnancy, this isn't the first time I've gone through this. It's different, of course, so incredibly, awesomely, different, because this time it's my baby inside of me, not someone else's. This time, I have a loving, wonderful, supportive husband at my side who is just as excited to become a parent. I am stable, and happy, and prepared. It's all different.
But it's still not the first time I've gone through this. Most of the people around me don't know that, and that's the way I prefer it, at least for the time being. It just means that I get to live with the unknowingly insensitive remarks. Secrets present their own kinds of challenges.
Wednesday, September 25, 2013
Wednesday, September 11, 2013
10 Questions Birth Moms Hate
This post originally appeared on http://www.musingmonika.com/ on April 29, 2013.
10 Questions Birth Moms Hate
by Monika Z.
There have been a lot of blog posts recently about questions the infertile community hate as well as questions adoptive parents hate. Someone in one of the birth mom groups of which I’m a part asked us to give feedback about the questions we as birth moms hate to get, inspired by the “hate posts” circling around the internet right now. This in turn inspired me to write a post of my own.
1. What are you going to do with future children?
This one’s my “favorite.” Amanda Argyriadis, a fellow birth mom, says that she likes to answer this particular question with snark and sarcasm. “Oh you know, I was just planning on getting knocked up so I could go through the trauma and heartbreak of separation cause I don’t want my membership to incubators-r-us to be called into question.” She then said she likes to follow it with a raised eyebrow “and, if you can get away with it, a smack upside the head.” I particularly like the “smack upside the head.” This question rather brings to mind a “Here’s Your Sign” moment, coined of course by Bill Engval.
2. Is it co-parenting?
This question probably gets asked of adoptive parents in open adoptions more than birth parents living the same, but it bugs us as well. I suppose if you look at the word in the most literal sense, it is “co-parenting.” I retained my motherhood when I relinquished my daughter to adoption, therefore I am a parent just as her mom and dad are parents. However, I do not have input, nor do I expect it, in the way that my daughter is being raised. If her parents ever ask Nick or me for input on a specific situation, we will provide it. But we would no more expect our advice to be followed than any other friend or family member should expect in the same situation.
3. Don’t you love your child? Didn’t you want your child?
Yes. We love and want our children. If it was simple desire and love that were motivations for relinquishing or not, we would all be raising our children.
4. Aren’t you glad she/he is in a better place?
Ugh. Our children are not “better off” without us. When we place our children, we hope that their adoptive parent(s) are more prepared to parent our child than we are at the time, but it is not “better.” It is different, obviously. This terminology causes me and other birth moms to feel as if the person asking the question is implying our children are dead and in heaven.
5. The decision is done. Why don’t you move on?
A birth mom will never “move on.” We will never forget, nor should we. Whether we have open adoption relationships with our children and their parents or not, being a birth mom means that we have a lifetime of grief. We should move forward with our lives, but moving on implies something completely different.
6. Aren’t you happy you made your child’s adoptive parents happy?
Like I’ve said repeatedly, mothers who make the decision to place their children with adoptive parents do not do so to make those adoptive parents happy. We do so for the benefit of our children. While I’m personally happy that my daughter’s parents are happy with my daughter, this question implies that their happiness should have been my sole reason for placing. This is simply not true.
7. Are you taking it okay?
Taking what okay? The fact that I’ve chosen a lifetime of grief and loss so that my child could have parents that were more prepared to parent her than Nick and me? I’m sorry, but no one can be expected to take that sort of loss and be okay with it, no matter how at peace one is with the decision that has been made. I am at peace. I don’t regret the choice of adoption or the choice of my daughter’s parents, though I do regret the circumstances that led me to make the decision I made. But I will never be “okay” again. I will never go back to the way I was before I had and relinquished my daughter.
The rest of these are statements, though there are implied questions with each of them.
8. At least your child’s needs are well provided and she (or he) is happy.
I know this is meant as a consolation for the grief. But saying this says to us that the person making the statement assumes our child wouldn’t have been happy staying with us or that his or her needs wouldn’t have been well provided.
9. Don’t worry, you can always have more.
No child, no matter how loved and wanted they may be, will ever or can ever replace the loss of a child, whether that loss is from adoption or if that loss is caused by infertility issues. This is why I firmly believe that counseling is necessary and time for healing needs to take place if there are infertility issues that cause someone to consider adoption or if there is a loss due to adoption before those people bring another child into their home.
10. You’re not that child’s mother. You need to let that child go.
Just no. I will always be my daughter’s mother, just like my daughter’s mother will always be her mother. Relinquishing legal parental rights does not erase my biological connection to my daughter, nor does it erase any birth mother’s biological connection to her child. We can let go of the fact that we cannot parent our children in the “traditional” way, and I would argue that it is necessary to do that. But we cannot and should not ever try to let our connection to our children go.
10 Questions Birth Moms Hate
by Monika Z.
There have been a lot of blog posts recently about questions the infertile community hate as well as questions adoptive parents hate. Someone in one of the birth mom groups of which I’m a part asked us to give feedback about the questions we as birth moms hate to get, inspired by the “hate posts” circling around the internet right now. This in turn inspired me to write a post of my own.
This one’s my “favorite.” Amanda Argyriadis, a fellow birth mom, says that she likes to answer this particular question with snark and sarcasm. “Oh you know, I was just planning on getting knocked up so I could go through the trauma and heartbreak of separation cause I don’t want my membership to incubators-r-us to be called into question.” She then said she likes to follow it with a raised eyebrow “and, if you can get away with it, a smack upside the head.” I particularly like the “smack upside the head.” This question rather brings to mind a “Here’s Your Sign” moment, coined of course by Bill Engval.
2. Is it co-parenting?
This question probably gets asked of adoptive parents in open adoptions more than birth parents living the same, but it bugs us as well. I suppose if you look at the word in the most literal sense, it is “co-parenting.” I retained my motherhood when I relinquished my daughter to adoption, therefore I am a parent just as her mom and dad are parents. However, I do not have input, nor do I expect it, in the way that my daughter is being raised. If her parents ever ask Nick or me for input on a specific situation, we will provide it. But we would no more expect our advice to be followed than any other friend or family member should expect in the same situation.
3. Don’t you love your child? Didn’t you want your child?
Yes. We love and want our children. If it was simple desire and love that were motivations for relinquishing or not, we would all be raising our children.
4. Aren’t you glad she/he is in a better place?
Ugh. Our children are not “better off” without us. When we place our children, we hope that their adoptive parent(s) are more prepared to parent our child than we are at the time, but it is not “better.” It is different, obviously. This terminology causes me and other birth moms to feel as if the person asking the question is implying our children are dead and in heaven.
5. The decision is done. Why don’t you move on?
A birth mom will never “move on.” We will never forget, nor should we. Whether we have open adoption relationships with our children and their parents or not, being a birth mom means that we have a lifetime of grief. We should move forward with our lives, but moving on implies something completely different.
6. Aren’t you happy you made your child’s adoptive parents happy?
Like I’ve said repeatedly, mothers who make the decision to place their children with adoptive parents do not do so to make those adoptive parents happy. We do so for the benefit of our children. While I’m personally happy that my daughter’s parents are happy with my daughter, this question implies that their happiness should have been my sole reason for placing. This is simply not true.
7. Are you taking it okay?
Taking what okay? The fact that I’ve chosen a lifetime of grief and loss so that my child could have parents that were more prepared to parent her than Nick and me? I’m sorry, but no one can be expected to take that sort of loss and be okay with it, no matter how at peace one is with the decision that has been made. I am at peace. I don’t regret the choice of adoption or the choice of my daughter’s parents, though I do regret the circumstances that led me to make the decision I made. But I will never be “okay” again. I will never go back to the way I was before I had and relinquished my daughter.
The rest of these are statements, though there are implied questions with each of them.
8. At least your child’s needs are well provided and she (or he) is happy.
I know this is meant as a consolation for the grief. But saying this says to us that the person making the statement assumes our child wouldn’t have been happy staying with us or that his or her needs wouldn’t have been well provided.
9. Don’t worry, you can always have more.
No child, no matter how loved and wanted they may be, will ever or can ever replace the loss of a child, whether that loss is from adoption or if that loss is caused by infertility issues. This is why I firmly believe that counseling is necessary and time for healing needs to take place if there are infertility issues that cause someone to consider adoption or if there is a loss due to adoption before those people bring another child into their home.
10. You’re not that child’s mother. You need to let that child go.
Just no. I will always be my daughter’s mother, just like my daughter’s mother will always be her mother. Relinquishing legal parental rights does not erase my biological connection to my daughter, nor does it erase any birth mother’s biological connection to her child. We can let go of the fact that we cannot parent our children in the “traditional” way, and I would argue that it is necessary to do that. But we cannot and should not ever try to let our connection to our children go.
Sunday, August 4, 2013
Be of Good Comfort
I'm having an interesting day.
A conversation that I had earlier this evening with my husband brought up some very strong remembrances for me. For the most part, we don't talk a whole lot about my adoption experiences. Upon occasion, one of us might mention something about Ian, but it's infrequent. But it came up today, and strongly.
James and I actually sat down this evening and watched a recording from an FSA adoption conference I was involved with a few years ago. The panel was called "Husbands of Birth Mothers" and the men on the panel discussed their experiences meeting, dating, marrying and raising families with someone who had placed a child for adoption. I don't really know yet what James made of it, though he said it interested him.
The video, along with our conversation earlier, has brought up a lot of emotion within me. I've been remembering what it felt like, when I was pregnant with Ian, and placing him for adoption, and afterward. There really weren't a whole lot of positive emotions at the time. Guilt, shame, remorse, anger, fear, sorrow, grief. Though I knew I did the right thing, it was by far the hardest thing I have ever done in my life.
I realize, even more than I did at the time, how much I was upheld by the Savior throughout the entire process. I had sinned, and I felt clearly the lack of the Spirit with me. But how could I have done it without the Savior? He was with me every step of the way. He helped me find Ian's parents, and helped me to know that they were the right family for this baby. He helped me to know that I was making the right decision. He helped me make it through labor and delivery. And He was absolutely there during placement, and afterward, when I thought the world had come to an end.
The best feeling in the world was when, a week after Ian was born, I was able to take the sacrament again. I felt the Spirit, more strongly than I ever had before. I bore my testimony. I received a calling. I went to the temple again. None of which I could have done without my Savior.
My favorite scripture is Matthew 9:22. The Savior says to the woman, "Daughter, be of good comfort; thy faith hath made thee whole."
This verse has so much meaning to me. The Savior offered this woman physical healing, something we are all in need of at one time or another. But in addition, the Savior offers each of us spiritual healing. After placing my son for adoption, I read those words, and I knew the Savior was speaking them to me. I was made whole.
My adoption experience is a part of me. It shaped me, in part, into the woman that I am today. But it does not define me. I am not the same person that I was seven years ago. Sometimes, the memories of those days seem like someone else's story, that I have simply heard secondhand. I am not stained by them. As another birth mother once told me, "Who you are is not what you've done." I am left with the simple, humble gratitude that I have for my Savior, for the comfort and the healing that He brings me, like He can to each of us. Through His Atonement, we truly can be made whole.
A conversation that I had earlier this evening with my husband brought up some very strong remembrances for me. For the most part, we don't talk a whole lot about my adoption experiences. Upon occasion, one of us might mention something about Ian, but it's infrequent. But it came up today, and strongly.
James and I actually sat down this evening and watched a recording from an FSA adoption conference I was involved with a few years ago. The panel was called "Husbands of Birth Mothers" and the men on the panel discussed their experiences meeting, dating, marrying and raising families with someone who had placed a child for adoption. I don't really know yet what James made of it, though he said it interested him.
The video, along with our conversation earlier, has brought up a lot of emotion within me. I've been remembering what it felt like, when I was pregnant with Ian, and placing him for adoption, and afterward. There really weren't a whole lot of positive emotions at the time. Guilt, shame, remorse, anger, fear, sorrow, grief. Though I knew I did the right thing, it was by far the hardest thing I have ever done in my life.
I realize, even more than I did at the time, how much I was upheld by the Savior throughout the entire process. I had sinned, and I felt clearly the lack of the Spirit with me. But how could I have done it without the Savior? He was with me every step of the way. He helped me find Ian's parents, and helped me to know that they were the right family for this baby. He helped me to know that I was making the right decision. He helped me make it through labor and delivery. And He was absolutely there during placement, and afterward, when I thought the world had come to an end.
The best feeling in the world was when, a week after Ian was born, I was able to take the sacrament again. I felt the Spirit, more strongly than I ever had before. I bore my testimony. I received a calling. I went to the temple again. None of which I could have done without my Savior.
My favorite scripture is Matthew 9:22. The Savior says to the woman, "Daughter, be of good comfort; thy faith hath made thee whole."
This verse has so much meaning to me. The Savior offered this woman physical healing, something we are all in need of at one time or another. But in addition, the Savior offers each of us spiritual healing. After placing my son for adoption, I read those words, and I knew the Savior was speaking them to me. I was made whole.
My adoption experience is a part of me. It shaped me, in part, into the woman that I am today. But it does not define me. I am not the same person that I was seven years ago. Sometimes, the memories of those days seem like someone else's story, that I have simply heard secondhand. I am not stained by them. As another birth mother once told me, "Who you are is not what you've done." I am left with the simple, humble gratitude that I have for my Savior, for the comfort and the healing that He brings me, like He can to each of us. Through His Atonement, we truly can be made whole.
Thursday, July 18, 2013
Encounters
Today we had an unexpected visit with my birth son and his family. I got an email last evening. They were in town for a family reunion and wanted to know if we could meet up. Fortunately, we were able to find a time to meet! (James and I closed on our house this afternoon! Happy day!)
This was James' first meeting with Ian and his family. I asked him his thoughts, before and after, intensely curious for his reaction. All in all, things were much more laid-back than either of us were expecting.
We met on BYU campus for about an hour. Mostly, we just visited. I held their adorable new baby. Ian wasn't super talkative, but he did tell us his story about pulling his tooth. And that was about it. Very pleasant, albeit brief.
James said to me afterward, after expressing enjoyment for the visit, that he was surprised I didn't spend more of the time focused on Ian. And it's true, I didn't. But I guess I learned a few visits ago to let Ian set the terms. Sometimes when we've seen each other, he's been very talkative, other times very shy. And I am okay with it either way. I have the feeling that there will come a time when Ian and I will have a more personal relationship. Time will tell. Until then (and even then) I enjoy their family as a whole.
All told, I'm just glad we had the opportunity to see them while they were here! What a great day it has been!
Wednesday, May 22, 2013
Open Adoption Roundtable #48
The Open Adoption Roundtable is a series of occasional writing prompts about open adoption. It’s designed to showcase of the diversity of thought and experience in the open adoption community.
This roundtable prompt was:
I have two adoptions (two and a half, really) to consider when answering questions like this, and I think I would like to address them all.Why has or hasn’t openness worked for you?
If you are in a healthy functional open adoption, why do you think it’s working? If it doesn’t work, why do you think it stopped working? Do you think the success or failure was about education and expectations going in? Do you think it was that your personalities matched or clashed? Do you think there is something you do or did during the relationship that kept it going or was there a certain point that it changed the relationship from bad to good? Was it a mixture of all of these things?
My birth-family
I have a great, very open relationship with my birth father and his family. My adoption opened when I was 18, and met both of my birth parents. Ever since then, my birth father and his family have included me in all their major life events. We talk frequently, though not as frequently as any of us might like, but that's due to busy lives and distance more than anything else.
My birth mother, on the other hand, has completely closed off. After meeting that one time, she has stopped all communication, and I haven't had any relation with her ever since. I know that she does, very occasionally, talk with my birth father, but that's about it.
In both of these cases, I believe it came down to their attitude regarding my adoption--something that was formed before I was even born. My birth mother "moved on" almost immediately after my birth--got married, started having children, and apparently shut her adoption experience into a dark, tight box that never got opened. Compare this to my birth father, who raised his daughters knowing about me, celebrated my birthday each year, carried a photo of me as a baby in his wallet along with photos of his daughters, and you'll see what I mean. My birth father always wanted to have a relationship with me, and that shows in the relationship that we have today.
My son
This is a little more complex. Before my son was born, his parents and I emailed frequently (almost daily, throughout my pregnancy). We agreed on an open adoption, but we did not specify what all that was going to entail, except that we would figure it out as we went. Looking back, I think a little more specificity would have helped, but I also have to acknowledge that I had no idea at the time what I would need or want six months, a year, five years down the road.
After placing my son, communication immediately dropped off. While I could logically understand--with a new baby in the house, sending daily lengthy emails would be impractical, if not impossible--emotionally, it was very difficult to deal with. And to be perfectly candid, there have been many times in the last seven years when I have craved more from them than I have received.
That said, we do have an open adoption. I can send them an email any time, and (hopefully) receive a response. And if my son or his parents ever needed or wanted to contact me, I would not hesitate to respond.
While it's not perfect, and not exactly what I envisioned when I placed him for adoption, it works. My thoughts on why it grew to be this way? I think part of it is personality, both mine and my son's mother. Part of it is the more general difficulty of maintaining long-distance relationships. There are other factors as well. But it works. While I always want to be there for my son if he has need of me, for the most part, I am content to see pictures of him on Facebook and know that he is well.
Friday, May 17, 2013
Blog Hop: What have I been reading?
The Open Adoption Bloggers thought it might be fun to also get to know one another in a more lighthearted way through a good old-fashioned blog hop! Each blogger answers a question, and we post our links. We then comment on at least three other people’s blogs. Fun! This hop's question is:
What was the last book you read?It's not uncommon for me to be reading several books at once, and such is the case at the moment. These normally cover a variety of topics and genres, but as you'll see from the forthcoming list, I've got something on my mind.
Finally doing so, I found Bitterblue an engaging read--but not for the light of heart. Bitterblue, made queen at the age of 10 because of the assassination of her psychopathic father, is dealing with issues far beyond what I thought I would be dealing with when I picked up the book. If you've read Graceling, you can imagine what kind of state Bitterblue's nation has been left in after 35 years of Leck's reign, and Cashore is not hesitant in dealing with the realities of that situation.
I strongly identify with the stories told in this book. Not because I'm hesitant to become a mother--something I've craved my entire adult life. But because of the choice involved. I don't like the attitude that motherhood is something to grit your teeth and get through, a necessary trial. I also don't like the attitude that full-time motherhood should be the choice for women of my faith and that women who choose, for whatever reason, to work while raising their children, are lesser mothers (a prevalent attitude in the area where I live). I'm in love with the idea of choice--of women who loved what they did before, but find even more, different, satisfaction in motherhood. That is what I'm looking for.
What have you been reading?
Thursday, May 9, 2013
Can I tell you a secret story?
I took a pregnancy test today.
It was negative.
But it still made me really happy.
Here's the story: I've been joking with my husband for a couple of days, joking that maybe I was pregnant. We both knew this was virtually impossible, considering that A) I'm on the pill, as regular as can be, and B) I had my period like a week and a half ago. But as the joke continued, I remembered that we had a couple of pregnancy test kits lying around--courtesy of our friends/family decorating our car on our wedding night--and I jokingly suggested that I wanted to take a pregnancy test.
James humored me, as he often does, so I took the pregnancy test, fully anticipating that it was going to come out negative, which it did. And it made me happy--but not for the reasons you probably think.
I've only taken one other pregnancy test in my life. That day, I was terrified. At the store while purchasing the kit, I felt nervous. I shook while administering the test. Waiting for the results, I curled up and prayed that it would come out negative. And when I saw that positive line, I was first disbelieving, then completely, unbelievably distraught. My life turned upside-down that day, never to be the same.
I have nothing but negative feelings associated with that experience. Though I have many positive associations with my son and adoption, finding out that I was pregnant was one of the worst moments of my life.
As I have begun to prepare to start our family with my husband, a lot of buried emotions and memories have been stirring within me. The idea of getting pregnant is exciting--something I have been looking forward to for a long time, but especially since getting married. Yet I sometimes have to fight off these other feelings, the negative ones.
Today, I took a pregnancy test, with no emotion except for excitement. The result was negligible--I knew it was going to be negative, but even if it HAD been positive, I could have faced it with (surprise, but also) excitement. I know it's not a big thing, but it was important to me. It was a stepping stone. This was the first step in overcoming the old, negative emotions that I still associate with pregnancy, and reveling in the joy and excitement that are in store for me when James and I actually start trying.
I will probably be posting more about this kind of stuff, in the months to come. I don't know if other birthmothers share these types of experiences or not. But it's definitely part of my journey as a birthmother.
It was negative.
But it still made me really happy.
Here's the story: I've been joking with my husband for a couple of days, joking that maybe I was pregnant. We both knew this was virtually impossible, considering that A) I'm on the pill, as regular as can be, and B) I had my period like a week and a half ago. But as the joke continued, I remembered that we had a couple of pregnancy test kits lying around--courtesy of our friends/family decorating our car on our wedding night--and I jokingly suggested that I wanted to take a pregnancy test.
James humored me, as he often does, so I took the pregnancy test, fully anticipating that it was going to come out negative, which it did. And it made me happy--but not for the reasons you probably think.
I've only taken one other pregnancy test in my life. That day, I was terrified. At the store while purchasing the kit, I felt nervous. I shook while administering the test. Waiting for the results, I curled up and prayed that it would come out negative. And when I saw that positive line, I was first disbelieving, then completely, unbelievably distraught. My life turned upside-down that day, never to be the same.
I have nothing but negative feelings associated with that experience. Though I have many positive associations with my son and adoption, finding out that I was pregnant was one of the worst moments of my life.
As I have begun to prepare to start our family with my husband, a lot of buried emotions and memories have been stirring within me. The idea of getting pregnant is exciting--something I have been looking forward to for a long time, but especially since getting married. Yet I sometimes have to fight off these other feelings, the negative ones.
Today, I took a pregnancy test, with no emotion except for excitement. The result was negligible--I knew it was going to be negative, but even if it HAD been positive, I could have faced it with (surprise, but also) excitement. I know it's not a big thing, but it was important to me. It was a stepping stone. This was the first step in overcoming the old, negative emotions that I still associate with pregnancy, and reveling in the joy and excitement that are in store for me when James and I actually start trying.
I will probably be posting more about this kind of stuff, in the months to come. I don't know if other birthmothers share these types of experiences or not. But it's definitely part of my journey as a birthmother.
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