Cigarettes & Coffee

Hiatus

2009-06-08T09:01:00.002-04:00

i'm taking a time out. things in my daily life have become extremely hectic - in a good way. (do i owe you an email? i know...i know...) when i've got something to say, i'll be back. thanks to everyone for tuning in.

sucker

2009-05-07T07:07:00.001-04:00

i once worked with a man whose favorite saying was "fool me once, shame on you. fool me twice, shame on me". the latter part of that statement is me all over.

despite my usually surly demeanor, i really do believe the best about people in general. second chances? yup. third? fourth? fifth? you betcha. even when it's at my own expense. and it usually is. i'm terrible at cutting people off, ending relationships, when i've legitimately been wronged enough times to warrant such action. because what if they change? what if there's a chance of reconciliation?

in recent reference to a situation like this, my husband remarked "a tiger doesn't change it's stripes". we discussed it for awhile, and he laughed and said "you are amazing. you'll take what you can get and hope for more, hope for "better". and how often does it work in your favor? when do you just say "enough already"? " the answer to that, clearly, is rarely. the outcome is generally what i call Doormat. somewhere along the way, i got the notion that my feelings, my ideas, were not nearly as necessary as yours. that i wasn't worth the effort, from my perspective or yours.

with the seemingly closed adoption (see? i can't call it closed completely, even though i haven't gotten an update in a few years - that's me, still holding out hope) i have to come to terms with the fact that i'm obviously not worth the time or trouble; that i'm a bother, a chore. and jeez, doesn't THAT feel good?

i recognize these behaviors & attitudes. if i was a trifle surly before, i'm downright cynical now - wary of kindness (because there must be a flipside), of reaching out, of initiating anything. and periodically i respond positively, but those occasions are becoming few & far between.

i want the figurative cash up front. i want the reassurance, the guarantee. and don't hit me with the platitude of "there are no guarantees in life". i'm quite aware, thanks.

bruises

2009-04-10T11:20:00.001-04:00

if you follow my other blog, you know that i had another miscarriage this week. because i was a little further along this time, it has been a little more heartbreaking and a lot more painful on all levels. two trips to the ER in between my regular visit to the OB brought a lot of repeat storytelling.

"how many pregnancies?"

"how many live births?"

"oh, your son is 11? wow, that's quite a stretch in between, isn't it?"

people don't naturally assume that you choose adoption for your firstborn, and i didn't correct the assumptions that i was parenting. there's no point in that. or is there?

at one point, during my second ER visit, after they shot me full of Dilaud!d in preparation for Pitoc!n, my mercurial nurse leaned over to me and murmured that when i got home, i should try to "keep it together" for the sake of my son. Chris was out of the room, taking a breather for a moment, and when she left i tried to process through my narcotic haze what she had said.

can i fault her? not really. what irritated me more was her almost saccharine demeanor when Chris returned, telling me that "she had been there" and that she "knew what i was going through" as she hooked up the Pitoc!n drip. i don't know about you, fellow miscarriage survivors, but hearing that while you're literally in the midst of things isn't so helpful. at least not to me.

would my care have been different if i had told them from the start that my son was adopted at birth? probably not. but i've been through this enough, telling health care providers over the years, to dread that look. being on the receiving end of that look is one of the lowest emotional lows for me.

and like the kindly nurse-vampire who extracted vial after vial of blood at the first ER visit told me, we can always "try again real soon. or adopt."

marching on

2009-03-16T12:20:00.000-04:00

i discovered a few weeks ago that Trusted Ally has left the agency. my immediate reaction was not something of which i am proud to admit: i cried. okay, let me 'fess up: i sobbed for an entire afternoon. you may think this is overreacting on my part, and i'm okay with that.

Trusted Ally was more than just my caseworker - she was my friend. or, let me clarify, she became my friend. when the immediate adoption stuff settled, we'd meet often. sometimes at the agency, talking about The Big Stuff, sometimes we'd go out to dinner and not talk about adoption at all. we'd visit each other's houses, gossip, bitch about things, order pizza. typical girlfriend stuff. she even filled a small but vital role in my first wedding. only a year or two older than me, we had several things in common.

when i moved from PA 7 years ago, our communication slowed, given the distance and the fact that our lives became really busy in separate directions. but we checked in with each other a few times a year and from my perspective, it was just like i'd seen her last week.

she used her home email for a few work things, so i shot off a typical email for this time of year. a few hours later, i received a short response stating that she was no longer with the agency, and hadn't been for awhile. she'd moved on, started a family, all of that good stuff.

i felt like my safety net had snapped.

of course i didn't expect her to stay at the agency forever. of course i knew she'd move on. i knew it had been coming for a few years now. but having that knowledge didn't soften the blow.

if she'd just been some random caseworker, some adoption counselor who was only dealing with me for the few months we spent together "professionally", i wouldn't feel this way. i highly doubt that a generic caseworker would have let me know that H had another child, so that i wouldn't find out from another source at an inopportune time. i always knew that i could call her to talk, whether it was adoption related or not. i always felt like she cared about me, and never thought of me as "a Caucasian healthy woman who produced a Caucasian healthy infant".

the loss in this, aside from having someone with an "ear to the ground", is that there is no longer anyone in my life who was there, who knew how it was for me, and what i went through. she knew the stories, had lived them with me.

maybe my expectation were off kilter. maybe i just had it all wrong. the end result, however, is that yes, i am ultimately alone in this. safety nets don't last forever. and i suppose its time for me to don my Big Girl Pants on forge ahead.

i'm just thankful that i didn't actually call the agency expecting to reach her.

02.25.09

2009-02-25T09:39:00.010-05:00

people ask me (online & in daily life) why i don't just contact The Kiddo's parents directly and ask them why i haven't gotten an update in so long. my answer to that, no matter who is asking, is generally the same: it's complicated.

it doesn't matter that i have their phone number or an email address. i almost wish i didn't. we don't have a "call & chat" type of relationship. truthfully, i can't imagine a reason why i would call them, unless they would have called me first & i was unable to get to the phone.

i feel as if i walk a very slippery slope. going through the agency for communication at this point seems passive-aggressive. i mean, we're all adults here, and have been "in this" for over a decade. the last time i asked for something "extra", perhaps 2 years ago, the request went unanswered. and with no update the following year... well, that was the last time i'll ask for a picture of the Kiddo participating in Underwater Basket Weaving. or anything else, for that matter.

"well what do you have to lose, if they've stopped sending updates?" is normally the next query.

pieces of my self, pieces of my pride. the days of being held to the whim & fancy are over. there is enough loss for everyone in this; why keep stretching it like taffy? who wins in that scenario? how much rejection/brushing off/disregard does a person need to tolerate before it sinks in that "they're just not into you"? hell, it took me a few years, even with the gentle comments made by people very close to me.

and then comes the inevitable "but what about The Kiddo?"

what about The Kiddo? he's 11. 2 years have passed since our last visit. if & when he wants communication with me, i'm ready, willing & able. and that's really all i can offer. its not as if i've lost hope, but my perceptions & opinions have shifted.

"it's complicated" is truly an understatement.

(Mc)Fearless

2009-02-22T15:17:00.003-05:00

and the hits just keep on coming. maybe this is all just an temporary case of Inflated Ego, i couldn't tell you at this point.

since i've shaken loose much of the baggage, i've been able to focus more clearly on the tasks in my day to day life, especially at work. i feel renewed, not overburdened & struggling like a pack mule trudging uphill. i feel free to get on with it. you know, life.

on The Kiddo's birthday, this past Wednesday, of course i was sad at times. i cried when i first woke up, remembering. and then i got on with it. a far cry from the past handful of years when i've been an unholy trainwreck, even in the privacy of my own home.

will i receive an update? that still remains to be seen.

so, in the meantime, let's get on with it, shall we?

the day

2009-02-18T02:27:00.002-05:00

i've always been partial to the number 11 for a variety of reasons. it's always been my "lucky number". Happy Birthday Kiddo. may "11" bring you laughter & luck.

root down pt 2

2009-02-04T05:38:00.001-05:00

partially inspired by Nicole, and my own soul searching in the past few months. all of this self loathing? this wishing like hell i could go back and change something? i've finally been able to pinpoint what might be obvious to others, but has never been clear to me.

i hated myself, my 24 year old self. truly. and not in the "oh, i hate lima beans" way. i'm talking full tilt boogie self hatred. loathing that knows no bounds, and has kept me from being a complete & present human being for the past decade. i hated her, my younger self, for utterly screwing up my life. look what she did!

this epiphany came to me around mid December, after finding an old friend from MegaBookstore on That Social Networking site. in our glee of remembering old times, we each posted pictures from the mid-nineties of our time working together. when he posted the Best Picture of Me Ever, i was stunned. after really studying that photo, i said aloud, "in 18 months, you will be a birthmother". and i remembered that girl, how much fun she was, how much she laughed, how much she loved, how generally happy she was. and then it occurred to me to love her, rather than despise her for ruining my life. i was able to focus on her good qualities, rather than a small series of mistakes that came with large consequences.

and then i was free.

i don't want to go back & change things. i've let her go, in her cute outfits, her innocence. she's still part of who i am, but i don't need to be her, or attempt to fix a situation that is irreparable without time travel.

this constant battle with myself for the past ten years has sapped me more than i've realized of my good qualities, of being present & open-hearted right now. i just needed to get to this place in my own time, persevering through my own floods with hip waders. but thanks to Nicole for unknowingly inspiring me to start writing this post last week, and for JQ3 for posting a picture that blew open the doors on healing.

ten plus one

2009-01-27T13:59:00.004-05:00

the Kiddo's birthday is next month and i've started musing. not expecting, nor anticipating, simply wondering.

i didn't get an update last year at birthday time. i staked out the mailbox until about April, waiting. i've had two sets of quick correspondence with Betty in the past 18 months or so, and no mention of an "official" update. what i really want are pictures - the ones i have are 2+ years old.

am i counting on it? not so much. one thing i've really learned in the past 4 years or so is about expectations, getting one's hopes up. the emotional wreckage in the wake of disappointment is simply too much. i can't afford to keep going there.

but i'll write another letter to the Kiddo, and file it away faithfully in the box i've been keeping, should he want them someday. there will now be 11 birthday letters, 11 envelopes of legal tablet thoughts & good wishes, of questions & answers.

11 has always been my favorite number.

(Anti) Social Networking

2009-01-15T18:46:00.004-05:00

H, the birthfather, is on faceb**k. i've suspected it for awhile, but the last time i searched for him, there wasn't a profile picture. and now there is.

i haven't spoken to him in about 4 years, and it had been 3 years before that.

after pressing the "send a message" option, i sat staring dumbly at the screen. what did i have to say? do i genuinely want to become reacquainted with him? do i really want to hear about his life? "no" on both counts. i could really care less, and i have a smattering of ex-boyfriends on my "friends list", all of whom i still care for in one form or another.

what was i trying to accomplish by sending him some ridiculous, awkward (and not so sincere) message? was it going to make me feel better? or would i ultimately drive myself insane waiting for a response that wouldn't be satisfactory to me, no matter the words.

i decided not to pick at the scab. it simply screamed of inviting anger, angst & personal turmoil. after hitting "cancel", i closed the browser, then the laptop. and walked away.

me & mackaye

2009-01-06T05:13:00.002-05:00

i suppose this is a continuation of my last post.

i've been living the past decade trying to make things "right". and not by taking action to correct what's wrong in the "now", but by banging my head against emotional walls, maybe thinking that if i wish really hard, i can change the past. boy, it has been an exercise in frustration.

seems pretty common sense, right? and while yes, intellectually it IS... my emotional trolls are devious, performing magic tricks and whispering "if you just hadn't made the left hand turn onto interstate 80...". its difficult to live life in the present when you're always thinking about a single decision that changed your life from top to bottom, forever and ever, amen.

a few weeks ago, in the thick of the Holiday Season, i was at work around 3am, doing my thing, scaring the office cats with my awful singing while i packed & shipped. i sometimes think of my internet radio as a virtual higher power, giving me what i need to hear when i least expect it. so while i was up to my elbows in "gift wrap, please!", the opening strains of Fugazi's "Bad Mouth" pumped through my pc's speakers.

You can't be what you were
So you better start being
just what you are

something in me clicked. an employer told me years ago, when i fouled something up royally, that they had nothing to yell at me about, as i seemed to punish myself quite nicely. and i've been doing that for over a decade now, in trying to work myself through this.

ten years is a long time to have mental fistfights with the trolls, at the expense of my relationships with friends & family, my own growth & happiness. i thought i really deserved to be unhappy, that it was penance.

as i'm sitting here, staring down the barrel of another birthday, i'm forgiving the 23 year old in me.

Outlook

2009-01-01T09:17:00.003-05:00

i'm not optimistic by nature. you couldn't call me "perky" or even "good natured". but i've had some Grand Realizations in the past few weeks, coming to me by the most unusual messengers. and while a little perplexed at first and pushing them immediately aside because of work, i've had some time in the past week to think, to squint, to mull, to chew the insides of my lips & cheeks with Deep Thoughts.

the close of 2008 brought me some much needed clarity, and a healthy dose of personal resolve. and i'm looking at 2009 as a quiet, calm year. my self doubt and equally mighty self loathing seem to have been padlocked in a steamer trunk, unbeknownst to me.

i keep running a quote from Stranger than Fiction in my head, "Let's start from ridiculous and go from there". yes, let's go from there.

happy 2009.

12.17.08

2008-12-17T06:28:00.002-05:00

anyone playing armchair psychiatrist, who knows a few key events that occurred in my life prior to the unplanned conception of The Kiddo, could point a finger at me and say "low self esteem much?"

one of the main reasons why i chose adoption was trying to do the proverbial right thing. raised in a middle class, wasp-y environment, i tried very hard to "be a good girl and do the right thing". i mean, my mother was all for adoption, so it couldn't be wrong. right?

at 25 when the Kiddo was born, i had no real sense of self, of my capabilities. so add a little unplanned pregnancy onto an already shaky self worth/esteem base, with very little "you CAN parent - it's okay to be freaked out" support and a whole lot of "this is what you need to do" pointing toward adoption...here we are.

i remember the first few years, post-placement, thinking that i'd never have low self esteem again because for once, in the biggest event in my life, i'd made the right decision. i was The Good Girl. finally.

obviously that feeling didn't last. in hindsight, i could have parented. i could have bucked my family. i could have struggled as a single parent. women do it all the time. and thinking back on it today, i have to wonder how the people in my life at that time really saw me, those who were encouraging me to place. was i that lousy of a person? would i have been a crap mom? of course not. i used to say that The Kiddo deserved "someone better than me". and that's truly appalling to me now. i would never utter such a thing at this stage in my life.

it's never ending, the low self esteem. it merely ebbs & flows like the tide.

foo

2008-11-21T10:55:00.004-05:00

last night, Chris and i were entranced by VH1's 90's Countdown show. we're suckers for all things nostalgic like that. just ask our friends, we're totally "disco lemonade". but i digress.

as we were cackling & clutching our stomachs, rapping simultaneously to House of Pain's "jump around", and just being our normal, goobery selves, we were interrupted by the opening strums of the Foo Fighter's "everlong". i stopped laughing and turned my attention toward the tv, lost in a frame of my past.

Breathe out
So I can breathe you in
Hold you in

the first time i heard this song, i was several months pregnant, back in PA. i was sitting at an intersection, 'way back at a long red light near a college. my current "predicament" was wearing me down. i couldn't believe this was my life at the moment. not when a simple year prior i'd been happier than ever, without a care in the world. i had just been living, loving and laughing.

And I wonder

When I sing along with you

If everything could ever feel this real forever

If anything could ever be this good again?

as i listened to the lyrics, i started to cry, sitting there in my car in broad daylight. my situation was real, so real i wouldn't escape it for months, years. i remember so clearly thinking that i'd never recapture the free spirit i had been previously, that i'd not embrace again the unencumbered joy that innocence provides. maybe one loses it eventually as they age. but i know the moment that i lost it and it was sitting at a traffic light in south central pennsylvania listening to a damn rock song on the radio.

House'd

2008-11-17T05:42:00.004-05:00

Dialogue courtesy of IMDB, and yes, spoilers...

Dr. Lisa Cuddy: She's not a crack baby.
Dr. Gregory House: No, mother's perfectly healthy. She just had to give up the baby in order to continue her work on the human genome.
Dr. Lisa Cuddy: She confessed to some past meth use.
Dr. Gregory House: What they don't confess to is almost always more interesting. This is a mistake.

i am a big watcher of "House". we recently obtained cable, but continue to watch episodes online, as we're always one episode behind. i've been needling Chris for days that we need to catch up on the most recent episode, and he's been reluctant, knowing it was about adoption. so last night i watched it by myself, when he went out to do "guy stuff".

since head administrator Cuddy has wanted a baby for a few seasons now, as shown by her attempt with IVF, i wasn't surprised by her turning to adoption. and generally, i like Cuddy's character. however.

let me begin by saying that of course the expectant mom is young, not really educated, has a history of family yuck and of course, past drug use. and of course this past use may (or may not, its never clearly stated) have contributed to the baby's lungs being underdeveloped, which we find out mid-episode.

while there is an agency mentioned early on, there is no sight or sound of them...ever. Cuddy meets Becca (the expectant mom) at a restaurant, just the two of them. Becca has a kooky rash on her arm and Cuddy whisks her away to the hospital where she becomes Becca's primary caregiver. never a mention of "who do we call for you?". in short, there is nobody on Becca's side. nobody. and a very entangled & involved Cuddy whose baby-fever is so outrageous, i cringed every time she opened her mouth. the character clearly has no boundaries in this episode.

so when it comes the point of "deliver the baby & baby might not live" or "wait to deliver baby & possibly jeopardize Becca", Cuddy is all about waiting to deliver and makes it crystal clear to Becca. but Becca is rightfully scared with this news and opts to deliver via C-section. of course, Cuddy is present in the operating room.

long story short: baby lives, Cuddy is blooming in new mommmyhood for all of 4.5 minutes and Becca decides to parent, thoughtfully musing that this baby will change her life for the better. of course Cuddy is devastated, throwing all sorts of "are you sure you want to do this?" language.

at the tail end of the show, when Cuddy is shown teary & aimless at home, there's a knock on the door. i honestly thought it would be Becca, realizing she had made a "mistake". however it's simply House, and he & Cuddy get to some "grief making out". many of the message boards i read last night about this episode were so focused on this development. but come on, who among us hasn't done something weird/inappropriate in a time of high emotional stress?

i know: it's a TV show and fiction and 44 minutes long. i'll probably never be satisfied with how expectant parents facing adoption or birth/first parents are portrayed in the media. and i'll inwardly cringe when a show i like takes a storyline down this path.

but really, this episode was nothing compared to the shock & horror of seeing a TV ad for the agency i placed though, while trying to relax with some guilty pleasure Clean House on the Style Channel. to paraphrase the reaction of a friend... it made me throw up in my mouth a little.

10.24.08

2008-10-24T13:54:00.003-04:00

The Kiddo has been on my mind continuously today. that's unusual. not saying that i don't think about him daily, as i do, but this is different.

while slacking at work today, taking silly self portraits with my phone, i captured an expression of myself that the Kiddo shares, one i've seen in pictures. i pulled a now-three-year-old picture of him and made a diptych with the photo of myself i'd just taken. it's eerie.

as i sat there, staring at some strong genetics, i had what can only be described as "emotional memory", rather like "sense memory". i felt incredibly empty, hollow. like the day i left the hospital.

the last hour before discharge was eternal. i was tired of paperwork, tired of people being "nice", tired of my mother rambling at me, trying to keep my mind occupied with something other than what we were doing. it was overcast & cold, i sat at my window and watched people down on the street scuttle to the pizzeria on the corner.

we left the hospital before Betty, Barney & the Kiddo. after the goodbyes, during which i desperately sputtered inanities and alternately cried, i had to follow the yellow arrows to billing & insurance, which was overwhelming. finally through 1/2 an hour later, i sat in the wheelchair by the curb, waiting for my mother to pull her car around, even though i was perfectly capable of walking, and would have preferred to do so. while i watched her cross the parking lot, i wondered how i looked to passersby on the street. there were no balloons, no flowers. just a sad, 25 year old woman with horribly chapped lips.

at that moment, i knew what Ultimate Loneliness felt like. my head was equal parts cranked to eleven & silent as a tomb. this was something i had done, the first time i ever really saw my impact on someone else. i suppose i believed that i never left fingerprints anywhere, on anything previously. "what did you do?" my heart chanted.

during the 1/2 mile ride back to my apartment, my mother prattled on and i stared out the window at the office workers on lunch break, stomping through the slush, laughing as they opened doors to warm restaurants. i felt like i'd never laugh again, that i'd never be that free, that maybe i didn't deserve that uninhibited joy.

i miss the Kiddo. i've never seen those expressions in person, or caught them with my own camera. these half smiles are always to someone else: a family member, a friend. i wish we knew each other better, he & i.

"uncle"

2008-09-23T18:44:00.000-04:00

i wrote on the other blog today about how we've ceased & desisted our quest for parenthood.

one of the many things Chris & i talked about in relation to becoming parents was how it would (probably) impact my current feelings about adoption, about being a birth/first mother. all speculation, of course, going by other women i know who have parented subsequent children.

and although its always been in my head, we've never talked about the ugly feelings that could arise if we didn't procreate. because we were optimistic, even in the face of January's miscarriage.

i've been trying to figure out the lesson in all of this. maybe there isn't one. maybe its been about boundaries, and what i can & cannot tolerate. maybe i haven't learned the elusive lesson, and i'm simply trying to make sense of it. one thing i have learned though, is really who stands by me. i'm lucky that i have a handful of people in my life to help me through the yuck.

somebody, somewhere, is probably a little smug right about now.

shedding skin

2008-09-04T05:35:00.004-04:00

i've been in some "adoption flux" as of late. maybe because its because a person can only listen to so much Bob Dylan without becoming a trifle introspective. maybe because its because we've been trying so damn hard to get pregnant. maybe its because an email from Betty arrived a few weeks ago, falling out of the ether and into my "in" box with a soft chiming noise.

the idea of a visit, a glimmer of hope, are overshadowed by the past and bad juju.

but i want to see the Kiddo. i want to see my son. can i weather the tumultuous whirlwind of a visit? will it wreck me from tip to toe for six subsequent months? does the Kiddo even want to see me? does he have questions for me? is it beneficial for him to have reminders of me red faced & puffy eyed?

the biggest disappointment in this whole situation is how we don't really "see" each other. sure we know "things" about each other, but we don't really "know" the other parties. i had hoped for better in those first few years, in the early sunlit moments of my experience in open adoption. i had hoped for an open dialogue about our respective situations, rather than stilted, jaw clenching visits fraught with uncertainty & strategic toeholds.

i have so many questions, for the Kiddo, for Betty. and most likely, going by past experiences, they will go unanswered. i've come to terms in the past 18 months that my idealistic visions of open adoption are simply not my reality. it never occurred to me that an honest discussion of feelings was unrealistic. i didn't know that a visit with the Kiddo & the family would be so emotionally blindsiding.

right now i expect nothing. i've seen the carrot, i've acknowledged it. i'll even play along if & when the time comes. my formerly super-vulnerable places, however, are presently off limits. i've spent too much time with mental masonry tools, sealing cracks, repairing damage.

tacos & tears

2008-07-31T05:41:00.005-04:00

yesterday i had lunch with a longtime friend, Fair Maiden. FM & i go back to jr high, although we really didn't become friends until around our early 20s. i see her once every few years, as she lives currently in Western State, getting her MFA.

as we were chowing down on the best southwestern food in NJ (isn't that almost a paradox?), she asked after the Kiddo, eyeballing the 2 year old photo at my desk, remembering it from her last visit.

"well, i believe it's closed. the adoption, i mean" i said as i took another bite of chorizo & shrimp.

FM's face lit up for a second, and fell as she worked it out in her head. and then she started to cry into her chicken soft taco. i felt like a jerk. i should have just told her everything was fine.
i reassured her that it was okay, that i'm okay, to please not cry. i'm fine, really.

she asked the normal questions "can they do that? but? but...how..." and then the kicker "what does The Kiddo think about this?" there was much shrugging on my behalf, as i don't have answers.

FM remembers the Early Years, when i would bittersweetly smile and say "yeah, sometimes its hard... but its all okay, because i get pictures and letters and the occasional visit! i'm so lucky!" when i would sing the virtues of open adoption, and how it was all working out "just fine".

when peripheral folks ask after the Kiddo, i lie. after so many years of "he's great! things are great! i'm so lucky!", i feel that its a reflection on me that it's not what it once was, whether its true or not. in addition, it's not something to lay on the casual, polite inquirer.

give the time of year, i'm doing a lot of lying, as i'm running into a lot of people i haven't seen since last summer. and i hate it. but its just easier for everyone.

Secondary Squared

2008-07-24T08:12:00.004-04:00

some of you know that Chris and i have been trying to conceive since late last fall, with nothing to show but a midwinter, early-in-the-game miscarriage. quite bluntly, it sucked, as many of you can attest no doubt.

while i was sitting in the waiting room of Dr. PinknPretty back in January, (not) staring at women in various stages of life & pregnancy, i bit the insides of my lips trying my best not to cry, shying away from Chris' reassuring hand on my back. and all i could think was "no more loss, i can't take more loss". i'm amazed that i always can. i suppose some folks would chalk it up to a god of their understanding/divine intervention/that whole closing door - opening window theory.

in the past months, grieving in some weird way a several week old clump of cells, i've been somewhat revisiting Kiddo grief. if it had "stuck", i'd be about 6 months along or so. there'd be movement, heartburn, a protruding navel & looking forward to finally becoming a mother in practice, without that special prefix. instead i'm looking in the mirror, running my fingers over pre-existing stretch marks. the only visible physical evidence of my biggest loss.

its in the water, baby

2008-07-19T13:50:00.005-04:00

it took me about two years of online roaming to find blogging. and i started this blog on a whim, with no idea what i'd write about, if i'd actually maintain it, and fairly certain that nobody would read it. i wrote about all sorts of things: my concert-going history over the past 20 years, random thoughts, cryptic messages and occasionally, my adoption experiences. my writing at the time was very similar to my speech pattern - informal & a bit snarky. nothing written was well thought out or planned.

until i stumbled into blogland, i'd spent time on forums & other online support groups. i couldn't discern where i fit. it seemed i wasn't hurting enough for one sector, and as i was told in one birthmother group "i had issues" and should just try to "be happier". shah! nothing i felt was "right enough" to belong. i was extremely frustrated, not to mention naively appalled at the level of cruelty hurled around between strangers.

i've been blogging for about 3 years now. i've stopped & started & deleted & moved (and many of you have followed, and for that i'm super-grateful). and its mine. i'm truly fortunate to have found a place where i've formed relationships with other bloggers, similar to me or not. we just keep growing.

the gambler

2008-07-05T18:45:00.001-04:00

people change. relationships change. one's necessity waxes and wanes in all types of relationships.

i'm handling several situations presently that have brought up massive feelings of inadequacy. that i'm not worth the effort nor time. that i'm not worthy of their care or consideration. it's as if i've been written off without so much as a Dear Barb letter.

and some days it's been a real struggle to keep my head together: what's wrong with me? why does this happen? how did this happen? is the past just erased? quite truthfully, it's been gnawing me inside out. questions for which i'm wanting answers, but too worn out to contemplate tackling either situation well.

i never received pictures or an update this year, so i'm assuming our relationship has closed. i've had a few months to really get down & wrestle that prospect. it's been sitting in the pit of my belly for a number of years. i've done a lot of crying in the past year or so.

there just has really come a point for me where i have to just stop. and walk away. for my own preservation. i've been a puppy for far too long, waiting for scraps or a scratch behind the ears. i've been agonizing over relationships that appear irreparable.

the Kiddo has a soft half-smile in the picture on my desk at work. i don't forget, and write him letters periodically that are housed chronologically in a storage box. for him, or for me, i haven't yet discovered.

grasshopper

2008-06-13T07:00:00.000-04:00

my paternal grandfather died late last week after a long debilitating illness. his funeral services were Monday evening. i've not been close with that branch of my family for a number of years, for a host of reasons. many family members i hadn't seen in almost a decade, even though they live a mere 2 hours away.

after paying my respects to my grandmother, aunts & uncles, i found a comfortable overstuffed chair in a side room adjacent to the main gallery. my cousin Wanda, whom i played with at family gatherings as a child, came over to me and did her best to make me feel at ease. she gestured to the gallery, filling up with relatives and friends of the family, "we're your family. that doesn't change".

after she moved on to corral errant children, i intently watched the branch from which i've descended. our genes are strong, and i could see my facial features in my uncles'. i could see my potential body type 20 years from now. i heard the bark of laughter from another room and identified it as my father's, so close to my own.

for a moment i thought about the Kiddo, because these people are in some way, his people. from the last pictures i received about 16 months ago, he is still so "me" in facial structure & expression and thus my paternal side in turn: the German/Dutch coloring, the nose that could have been lifted from my father to me to the Kiddo, the eye crinkle when smiling.

i know where i came from: physically & emotionally. i believe emotional traits aren't just learned behavior. i marveled mentally at my relatives; our history for better & worse. i hope at some point, some day, i can tell the Kiddo pieces of that history. because for better & worse, its part of him as well.

Second Sunday in May

2008-05-11T06:15:00.003-04:00

this year, i don't care so much about Mother's Day. or maybe i do, and i'm just so irritated and pretending i don't care.

it's not like it is acknowledged between Betty and i. the first Mother's Day, when the Kiddo was about 3 months old, i think i sent her a card and received one in return. there might have even been a tiny framed picture from her involved. i might have done something the second year, but i don't remember.

but i clearly recall thinking that it was ridiculous for me to send her Mother's Day cards, so i stopped. why should i send her a card when (in the basest of terms) i gave her my kid?

my mom used to really try around mother's day. and it would infuriate me. i can remember several second Sundays in May over the past decade that would end in me hissing through my teeth that i'm not a mother.

so i'll just continue with my normal sunday morning cleaning & laundry. i'll make the rounds with Chris later to our respective mothers, internally roll my eyes and blink furiously to hold back any unpleasantness.

Happy Mother's Day to you, should you celebrate it, no matter your role.

stream

2008-04-26T04:52:00.003-04:00

the pictures don't come and i wait and wait and wait by the mailbox week after week.

and i pretend it doesn't matter. and i go about my days, drinking coffee, working, taking photographs, paying bills, killing time. i laugh with my friends, take drives up and down the coast, not thinking about the Kiddo. lying.

i wonder how he's grown, how he's changed, how he's doing in school, if he's playing ball this year. and when i think about it too hard i hear whispers about my selfishness echoing in my head. key phrases on repeat. and i drink more coffee and smoke more cigarettes and look at old pictures, one in particular where its he and i and we're smiling at each other.

and people ask and i am cavalier and i smile and toss my head, shrug my shoulders and pretend. my stomach folds in on itself while i'm writing unsendable emails, unpostable entries. fodder for the trash bins.

i lock myself in the bathroom periodically, like a tantrum throwing teenager, shaking with frustration and sadness and fear. but i'll soon wash my face and straighten my clothing and clean up the mess i've made. and emerge smiling. and lying.