Broken?
I got a call from my brother on Monday. He said something was wrong with my grandfather. He gave me the cell number of a cousin to call and find out how bad it was. I knew in my heart it was the end. I didn’t cry.
I called my cousin. She told me he was going to die. It wasn’t a matter of if just a matter of when. He was confused. He didn’t know who anyone was anymore. It started the night before. He was in pain. His lungs were filling up with fluid. They promised to call me after the doctor came back in. I didn’t cry
I called my mother and father to tell them what was going on. I explain everything and gave them phone numbers of aunts and uncles to call. I called my uncle and listened to him cry. I told him I loved him and if he needed me to call any time. I didn’t cry
After dinner my aunt called me from the hospital. The doctor increased his morphine and he didn’t seem to be in pain anymore. They put the phone to his ear so I could talk to him. I told him I loved him. I told him how much I have missed him. I told him how sorry I was that I was 1400 miles away when he needed me. I told him to let go now. I told him it was ok to go be with grandma. I would take care of everyone for him. I hope he heard me. They say he did. I didn’t cry
The phone rang at 4 am. He was gone. He wasn’t in pain anymore. He was with the love of his life. I didn’t cry.
I talked to various aunts, uncles, cousins and family friends. I found out about the service and burial. I tried to find away to make it so far away to be there. My only option was to drive 25 hours with a baby, my brother and a dog. I wanted to go more than anything. Yet everytime I looked at Princess Bean I knew I couldn’t. It wasn’t fair to her. She is way too little to be in a car that long or dealing with strange places and people. I just couldn’t go. I didn’t cry.
Of everyone in my family I was closest to my grandfather. I adored him. He loved me unconditionally. (more than the rest of the family ever did) He was an outsider like me. We understood each other. We have matching tattoos. (how many people can say that) He was the world to me and now he is gone. I am devestated. My heart is broken into so many pieces, I still can’t cry.
Has adoption broken me to the point that I am no longer able to feel? Why can’t I cry? Am I less human after what has happened to me? Why can’t I just freaking cry like a normal person? Please, I just want to cry an ocean.
passwords
I finally joined the password club. I’m kinda raw about some things right now and I don’t feel like dealing with the Jims of the world. If you want the password drop me a comment or email
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My boy
All of my kids are spectacular. They are kind, compassionate, smart, funny and so much more. I really could go on and on about each one of them but that is not why I started this blog so I haven’t done it. My 9 year old son has made me so proud that I figured I would brag and give you a glimpse into my every day life. (believe it or not I’m rarely angry and bitter)
My 9 year old son has earned the nickname of Stinky Pete so I will just call him that on here. Stinky Pete became very aware of what cancer is at a young age when I was diagnosed. I’ve been healthy for seceral years and we just stopped talking about it. A couple months ago their school did Relay for Life which brought up the subject again. (They raised over $3000 ….. go kids!) It was then that Stinky Pete started asking me hard questions. It had never occurred to him that kids get cancer too. He met a young girl going through chemo and it changed him forever.
Stinky Pete has been growing out his hair for 2 years. It started because he wanted to look like his uncle. He missed his uncle terribly when he was stationed in the Middle East. so when my brother grew out his hair Stinky Pete did too. Living in the south summers with long hair are miserable. Plus his hair tangles and is a pain to brush. I told him it was time to cut it. I was tired of brushing out tangles for 30 minutes every morning while he yelled ouch.
My announcement was met with a flood of tears. I told him it wasn’t that bad and we wouldn’t cut it too short. Still he cried. Between sobs he managed to say …….
Him : No mama you don’t understand. Its only 6 inches long and I need at least 10 inches before I cut it.
Me : What in the world are you taking about?
Him: I need my hair 10 inches long before I cut it so I can send it to those people. I measured it last night and its only 6 inches long. Please mama please don’t cut it yet! The sick kids need it.
I finally figured out he had been measuring his hair for months just waiting to hit the magic 10 inch mark. He learned about Locks of Love at school. He decided he wanted to donate his hair and just never told us. Needless to say his hair is still growing. I will proudly brush it out in the morning.
Stinky Pete is one special kid and I couldn’t be prouder.
Dear Jim
Sometimes a very special comment comes alone. One that just deserves its own post.
It seems that your anger is being directed toward everyone but the guilty party: you. You are obviously an unfit mother and your child is better off with someone else. My advice is to seek counseling for your anger and stop blaming everyone but yourself.
Awwww Jim. Thank you oh so much for coming over here to tell me what I am and am not. You saved me all the trouble of thinking. (something it seems you do little of too) Now that you have made me aware I am an unfit mother I can tell the school to pull my oldest son out of advanced placement math. Too much homework for us unfit mothers to help with. I can stop baking the 4 dozen muffins I promised for youngest sons lock in. No more need for me to run the kids to concerts, play dates, soccer, clubs and school events. Oh Shit! I better call all the parents that just entrusted their kids with me yesterday at the pool party and tell them to be more careful! Oh the horror of them letting me take care of their children. I guess I can stop cooking and cleaning every second that I have free. No more helping with school projects and being the room parent. Damn my life just got a whole lot less busy.
As to my daughter being better off with someone else I will have to disagree. I will not bash the people taking care of her on here. I will just make one simple point. Even if I was the monster you want to believe I am. No need to believe I am….. My daughter lost her entire family. Grandparents, cousins, aunts, uncles, brothers, sisters all gone from her life. She has lost her heritage.( something we strongly celebrate as a family) She has lost so many people that would have brought a special joy to her life.
Now on to anger. Yep I’m angry. Anger is a natural response to being victimized. Would you rather I be happy that my child was stolen from me? In my opinion that would make me a true monster. Walk a mile in my shoes and see if you are angry. I’m willing to bet you are. If you really think anyone can go through this and not be angry you are stupider than I thought. Yet I do not walk around all day raging with steam coming out of my ears. This is my blog about my feeling and what happened to ME. WTF did you expect to find here. You should have gone back and read the whole blog. I have already cover the whole angry and bitter BS.
Fear not dear Jim. I know exactly who to blame. I am done taking responsibility for the actions of others. Hmmm maybe I should let the judge know it was all my fault after all. I’m sure he will hang his head in shame for blaming that poor innocent agency. And when he asks me how I know its me to blame we won’t need all that pesky evidence we used the first time. I can just let him know its true cause Jim told me. I’m sure he’ll love that
My advice to you my friend, is learn how to read.
Hit a Nerve?
I can’t believe I am going back into this argument. Its really pretty damn simple people. Making light of the most painful and traumatic thing in someone Else’s life is not cool . Freaking Duh!!!!!!!!!!!! Adoption is still not the new pregnant. Not only is that dismissive of all women who do give birth; it makes our children sound like the latest fashion craze. Our babies are not the new black. Our pain and suffering for life is not the new black. The PTSD, night terrors, fear of ever having another child, empty arms, longing for OUR child, depression and crippling damage done to our families is not the new damn black. Living my life knowing that not all of the nmoms and adoptees I meet will make it is not the new anything. If you had any kind of heart the extremely high suicide rate would concern you. But noooooooooooo. As long as we say nothing about your little shirt you will be a ok.
Yep. I’m pissed again. What set me off this time?
Now, at this point, I was livid. For someone who will NEVER KNOW the joy of feeling a baby growing inside me, that was just downright insensitive and mean.
With a cute little link to my blog and one of another natural mom. So here’s a link to her’s which I also didn’t bother to ask about or even comment on her blog http://followouradoption.blogspot.com/2008/06/i-am-in-group-online-with-other-foster.html
I’m so sorry if you are livid. I am so sorry you are infertile. However, it is not my fault or the fault of any other fertile woman. I am livid. For someone who will NEVER Know the joy of feeling my baby snuggling in my arms that was downright insensitive and mean. And why will I never know that joy? Because I was an easy target. Because I had no protection in the hospital so some sw thought it would be great to have me sign papers while heavily medicated. Because some one was willing to pay for my child to be stolen from our family. Because mt revocation papers were held illegally until after the deadline. Because my rights and those of my baby were violated over and over. (judge said it too so its not my guilt) notice being an unfit parent was never mentioned.
By the way, you aren’t paper pregnant either. I will fight that term until women start dropping dead of complications of paper signing. You can not co op pregnancy and all that goes with it. Adoption is not your way of being pregnant. It is your way of parenting. There is a huge difference.
Oh and my blog won’t be shutting down the posts. I can more than handle the heat so bring it (to anon commenter) I know the other blogger can as well. However we are not required to take abuse from every adopter online.
Tears
I cried so hard when I read this. It didn’t have to happen. It shouldn’t have happened. Go gently sweet Julia. You will be missed.
Aborted Mother 