Some Where Out There......

In the movie American Tail, Fivel has lost his family. As he sits atop the Statue of Liberty he sings the song, "Some Where Out There" to the beautiful night sky, thinking of his family, while some where, out there, his sister and family are singing the same song about him, looking at the same night sky. Fivel is unaware of his family's location, even though they're close by, and he feels reunification is a seemingly endless battle, but he still has hope. I know how he feels! I can't even begin to count the many times I have gazed at the stars, hearing that song in my head, and thought of my children, some where, out there. My children, some place in this world, looking at the same stars I am, sharing the same sky, but not sharing the same home.

I've been going through some struggles recently, and I seem to find myself thinking of the little lives I lost quite frequently these days. I think it's human nature to replay your hurts and mistakes through your head when times are tough. Lately, I've been thinking that it's not fair, things are different now, they should be home, wishing I could change the past, hoping for a magic wand to make it all right, or better yet, I'd love to wake up and realize this was just a bad dream, but it's not, losing my children is a reality, and this pain, is very real.

It's times like this that I am especially grateful for my relationship with Rebecca. Because of her kind, open heart, I can talk to and see Ashley, whenever she's available. This is amazing, but I would be lying if I said I wasn't jealous of Rebecca and her husband. It's a funny place to be in, to have so much love and admiration for two people, to have absolute joy over the fact that these people I love taking care of my baby girl, but at the same time, wish there was never a need to have met them. (I in no way regret my daughter's placement, or my fantastic relationship with her mother, just speaking from the bio-mom perspective) I wish I could have met them at church or the PTA instead of having to meet them because I failed as a parent. None the less, Ashley is still a part of my life, I'm still her mother, and I'm happy to be sharing her with such wonderful, amazing, brave, courageous, persistent, and consistent people, that love her unconditionally, just like I do.

And then there's Hannah. I go to bed at night knowing Ashley is safe, and in a good place. But with Hannah, I know nothing. There is a complete lack of communication between myself and her parents. Not a day goes by that I don't worry about what's going on with her. I worry, so much, that she thinks I don't care about her, or I don't love her and think about her constantly. I want to hold her in my arms, like I can with Ashley. I long for my child all the time, and I wonder is she some where out there, longing for me? Does she think of me as much as I think of her? Is she ever going to be able to forgive me for losing her? Does she, like Ashley, worry I didn't want her? Does she know how hard I fought for her? Will she ever understand?

As I sit, starring up at the same big sky that my children are under, and ponder these difficult questions, I know without a shadow of doubt, my children are still my children. And for everything I've done wrong, I've done twice as much to get better. Life is just testing me right now, on patience, tolerance and acceptance, and for my children's sake and my own, I will pass this test. I will never give up or give in to the dark thoughts I sometimes have about myself and my past. I will use those feelings as fuel for my fire, to fight for change of a broken system, to pave the way for mother's and families, to make sure they receive the help they deserve to stay together. I will succeed.  

So, in this journey of healing, I acknowledge I have been given this path for a reason, and my children, no matter where they might be, are travelling this path with me So even when this path gets bumpy, as it is right now, I will continue to follow it, wherever it may take me, trusting that my children are indeed "some where out there", and we will someday wish upon the same bright star, together as a family, with their forever families there too. In the meantime, I will continue to have faith like Fivel, and know that love will see us through.

Did You Want Me?

  I think every bio-mom's worst nightmare is the thought that her children will grow up thinking she didn't want them.I remember prior to my post-adoption reunification with Ashley, laying awake at night praying I would someday have the chance to explain what happened. To tell her it wasn't her fault, and I did everything I could to get her back, I was just too late.

I never expected to have the relationship I do with Ashley and her forever family. Nor did I think my chance to explain what happened to Ashley would come so soon. I always imagined sitting someplace quiet with her, like at the park or on the beach, when we were both older. I figured she would be in her late teens, early twenties when we had this talk.Wow, was I wrong! Instead of the park or the beach, it was my kitchen, and instead of late teens, early twenties, it was ten years old.

Ashley came over my house this past weekend for a visit. I was very excited, because this was the first time I would be able to cook dinner for her since she was removed from my custody. It's the little everyday things we take for granted when we are parents, that I miss the most. I planned on making what used to be her favorite dish, and was even going to show her how to make it. We picked up the supplies from the store and I got right to cooking. She was my helper, and did more chasing of Tyler than cooking, but that was a help in itself!

As I was mashing the potatoes, Ashley came real close, and quietly spoke. I could tell she was nervous, and I know why now. In a shakey voice she asked, "Mom, did they say I couldn't come home or did you not....um...um..." I dropped the masher, I knew what she was trying to ask, she wanted to know if I didn't want her. Now I was nervous. I turned to her, placed my hands on her little shoulders, bent down and looked her in the eye and said, "Ashley, I love you so much, and I always wanted you to come home, but they wouldn't let me have you, because I was sick, but it wasn't your fault, and I love you more than anything in this whole world."

It was here that I began to panic internally. How on earth was I going to explain to this ten year old angel, that I suffered from addiction, and I couldn't no matter how hard I tried, overcome it in time to get her back. So, I took a deep breath and asked, "Do you know what addiction is?" She answered "Well yeah, it's when you start doing something so much, you can't stop." Awesome! She gets it! Now I just had to figure out an age-appropriate way to explain MY addiction.

I must say, I'm very grateful for my faith and the power of prayer, because I swear the right words were placed in my head. I began explaining I was addicted to alcohol, and how that effected my behavior and made me do things I wouldn't normally do, I said it led to other bad things I got addicted to and I became very sick. I referred to some personal struggles she had herself, so she would understand. I then explained I didn't get the help I needed, when I needed it. This all seemed to make sense to her and we continued to have a great conversation over our favorite meal.

At this time of Thanksgiving, I am so thankful for my daughter, her amazing forever mother, and family, and for having the opportunity to answer a question that could have haunted my child for the rest of her life. Even though, this didn't go the way I had planned, I'm grateful I had the chance to share with her. I'm grateful that I have been able to create an environment for my child, where she feels comfortable enough to ask me anything she needs. And I am eternally grateful for her adoptive family, who have made this all possible. Without them I can't imagine where we might be.

So I'd like to say "Thank you", to them and to all adoptive parents out there who have given their children the chance to identify with their first families, and for never giving up on them. Happy Thanksgiving!

Happy Birthday, Hannah! Mommy Loves You!

  Today is my eldest daughter Hannah's birthday, and so far today has been rather difficult. Being a birth mother is a hard job, you think about your child every day. Are they OK, how was school today, did she brush her teeth, eat her lunch, what if she was picked on and really needs a hug, did her forever mom give her one? When your child lives with you, these are the little things you take for granted, but as a birth mom, these are the little things you agonize over. And then there's the birthday, the hardest day of the year. The day you brought that beautiful child into this world, the day that more than any other day, you want to hug her, kiss her, and shower her with love. More often then not, birth mother's don't get the opportunity to do so.

  Hannah was my first child, a baby that I had wanted my entire life. I couldn't wait to be a mother, and I couldn't have asked for a better child. She was a lovey baby, I breastfed and I secretly loved that only I could feed her. It was a special bond we had and I didn't want to share her. That was a good thing, because she didn't want anyone else either. We spent her first 21 months glued to each other. She slept in my bed, she played in my arms, she even had to go in the backpack when the house work or dinner needed to be done, because I of course, could never put her down. She was the unconditional love I had been longing for my whole life, and I couldn't imagine my world without her.

I cherished every little milestone, her first smile, her first giggle, first words, to first steps, she was amazing to me, and I thanked God everyday for giving her to me. She was a gift I could never repay. She was there with me through all my ups and downs, even the death of her sister Moriah, that I know hurt her almost as much as it hurt me. Unfortunately, after all we had been through, my trauma history caught up with me, and I began using substances to hide my suffering. I lost her and my other children, and now Hannah lives with her forever family. Her family isn't as open as Ashley's is with me, but I pray someday, I will be able to call her on her birthday and tell her I love her.

 I regret every mistake I've made when it comes to my children, I'm sure every birth mother does. But today, today my hurts and regrets cut deeper than they usually do. I can't explain the pain of not holding my baby today. Even though that baby is 12 years old, they never grow old in our eyes, they are always our babies, right? My hope is someday, she can read this and know how sorry I am for not being there when she needed me the most, for not making the changes I've made sooner, that if I could turn back the clock, I would give my life to ease her pain. I hope today, Hannah knows, she is in my every thought and prayer, and my wish for her is that today is the happiest birthday she's ever had.

Happy Birthday Hannah! Mommy Loves You!

Adoption Through Foster Care; Am I Still a Good Mother? I Think So!

  Had you asked me ten years ago, when my daughter Ashley was born, how I felt about adoption through foster care, I would have told you I felt bad for those poor kids. As I held that precious new life, I would have said "how could anyone lose their child forever" and "that only happens in dysfunctional families". How naive I was then. Never did I think I'd be one of "those" families, but I am. Today, after much self reflection, therapy, and recovery, I can say, I'm still a good mother, despite my children's adoption.

  I think when the average person thinks of a "good mother", they picture someone who does everything for their children, the cooking, the cleaning, the laundry, soccer games and dance class. A woman who puts her kids first, and would never give them up or allow someone else to raise them. When I think of a "good mother" I too think of these things, but I also see a woman who can admit she makes mistakes, and understands sometimes the best thing you can do for your child is step aside. I've seen this quality in myself, as well as in Ashley's adoptive mother, and I'm proud to say we both have it.

  When I began this journey, I thought my daughter was lost to me forever. While Ashley was in foster care and prior to the finalization of her adoption, visits were painful. Although I was seeing my child, she really wasn't there. Whether it was from over-medication in the beginning and fear of betrayal later, our meetings were formal, lacking in conversation, physical contact and often felt scripted. I couldn't stand seeing her like that, it broke my heart. The beautiful child, with a curiosity and zest for life, that I had brought into this world was gone. Lost to a system that had, in many ways, broken her.

  Then there was Rebecca and her husband. My daughter's saviors. I left our first meeting with a peace I hadn't felt in years. They were accepting Ashley for who she was and they weren't giving up, like many before them had. My mother often joked, "it takes someone special to love Ashley", and there they were. Those special people had found her, and better yet, they didn't hate me. The fear that whoever adopted Ashley would see me as a monster, had loomed in me for quite some time. I imagined they would keep her from me, with fear I might try to take her or damage her in some way. But not Ashley's parents, they were different.

  It was obvious they had educated themselves in attachment, and shared my view, that in order to build a new bond, you have to nurture the first one. Not only that, but because Rebecca was an adoptee herself, she really understood the importance of maintaining Ashley's relationship with me, her birth mother. I have to say, it wasn't easy! I will never forget the first time I received a picture from Ashley, on the envelope "Mom" had been crossed out and the words "bio mom" were written in it's place. I cried for hours, but it was through those tears that I accepted my new role in Ashley's life, as her first mom. After that I realized if I didn't move into the position of "birth mom", Ashley would never fully integrate into her new family. It was here that I believe I regained my title as a "good mother". I had truly stepped aside and let her go. It is in stepping aside that real love can begin. It was the most selfless act I could do for my child. Little did I know it would come with such a great reward.

  Ultimately, by letting her go, I got her back. Rebecca and I became, what I consider to be, close friends, and I see her for who she is, Ashley's mom. My visits with Ashley went from awful to amazing! I began to see my beautiful child re-emerge from the ashes of the fire I had started years ago. The tension that was ever present at previous visits was replaced with joy and love. My child and I had rekindled the bond that can only be shared between a mother and daughter, and I owe it all to Rebecca. She has given us a gift that I could never repay, but intend to spend my life trying.

  So ask me today how I feel about adoption through foster care, and I will tell you I owe my life to it. Every child, no matter where they started, deserves a forever family. Unconditional love can come from all places, and Ashley has found that she has more than most. Through trauma and suffering, has come peace and joy. My outlook on adoption and love has forever changed and I have Rebecca, her family, and adoption to thank, and for that I am eternally grateful.