I was lucky enough to grow up at an awesome time in an awseome place: classic 70's/80's suburbia. There were houses in a row and yards with fences and swimming pools in the backyard. It was also teeming with children. Every block had a cluster of kids all about the same age, no matter what age you were, all within throwing distance. The neighborhood was one big playground. The minute school let out it was kids in groups of 10 and 12 walking home together, the older ones shepparding the younger ones home safely. Fifteen minutes later, all you saw were packs of kids on bikes riding around, pick up street hockey and kickball games blocking car traffic on every block. Summers found us playing Kick the Can and Red Rover until the streetlights came on. Winters were for sneaking in to the golf course through the hole in the fence with our wooden sleds and tires to go sledding. And forget about Halloween, our neighborhood was notorious for the best candy and the biggest egg fights. No matter what happened at school, in the hood, we stuck together. We fought and played and chased eachother all through our childhoods.
This weekend my sister and I had plans to meet one of the girls that lived up the block from me for lunch. They were both a few years younger than me, but I had babysat for the family when I was a young teen, so I knew them very well, as our moms were friends. The night before, my sis and I were chatting over wine in the kitchen about the other kids on the block that we had heard from, and she mentioned another girl her age who she had spoken to recently as well.
"Oh I love her! How is she?" I asked Sis
"She looks great! And ohmigod, she met her birthmom!!! They look so much alike!!!"
Say whaaaa?
"I didn't know she was adopted."
"Yeah." Sis said. "I mean, I always called her parents her parents, I mean, of course they are...."
"Really? Cool! Oh, and you know who else I saw....."
I changed the subject and ran with it.
The thing is, I'm OK with talking adoption with other people, friends and co-workers in real life. Anyone who has emotional distance from me. My family, not so much. It is most definitely the guilt of carrying the secret that does it to me. The paranoia that fills my head, leaving me wondering if the subject is being broached because someone knows something. Sis barely noticed, since we tend to ramble on and on when we are together, bouncing from subject to subject. But I was intrigued. I wanted to know all about her reunion.
When we met our neighbor for lunch, she and Sis had the same conversation we had the night before, minus me jumping in and changing the subject. I was still a little confused, apparently it was an open subject growing up that she was adopted, because here was Sis and Old Friend talking about it like it was just something they always knew. How come I didn't know? Maybe because I never played with the younger girls on the block? I must not have payed attention. It's not really that big a deal, I'm just so not used to reunions being a part of my "real life". I have that inexplicable urge to ask more questions, which I can't without raising that much suspicion.
I got home and added her to my Facebook page. On her "wall", just a week ago, she announced she was meeting her birthmother, and posted pics of the two of them. They looked so much alike. Even more interesting were the comments that followed. A few of the neighborhood kids expressed their support, and asked where she lived. She and Old Friend reminisced about a joke that they had relating to her adoption growing up and she mentioned she and her mom even act alike. Even Old Friend's mom commented, a sweet and motherly comment about how truly amazing it was that she met her birthmom, how many questions she must have and how she didn't know she was in touch with her. She also mentioned how she would always be a part of their family.
That was the way it was in my neighborhood. One big family. No matter who out friends were in high school, we go out of our way for the kids from the block. Seeing how supportive her friends are, it made me proud to be part of that "family". It made me wonder how supportive her adoptive family was, hoping they were the same way. It made me wonder if they'd support me the same way if I came out of the birthmom closet, or if the support was reserved for the adoptees and adoptive parents on the block.
But mostly, I thought of mother and daughter, reunited for the holidays, and what a gift that must be. How truly awesome it really is for both of them. And how truly awesome I hope it stays.
Monday, December 22, 2008
Saturday, December 20, 2008
Tis the Season
Looking back on my last post, I decided to blow off the OT and not go into the office this morning. Given the snow storm we had yesterday, one can hardly blame me, plus I have SOOOO much Christmas stuff to do. Coffee in hand, I opened the lappy and started making lists, plotting my attack on the mall like a general going into battle. Once I was done, I debated what else I need to do that required internet access, and said "Hey! I'll write AM!"
So here's the thing: I almost feel like my updates are getting stale. I don't lead that exciting a life. I'm hardly inspired to write when every update is "Hi AM, blah blah, I'm good how are you, we are busy, sure you are too. M is awesome, I am happy, write soon" I swear, I could pull the last holiday update and just cut and paste. What a cop out.
Last year, I sent an e-card, so I thought maybe I'd do that. However, I always feel like I need to stimulate the conversation, ask questions, probe for responses. I actually hate sending Christmas cards, I don't do it for family and friends because realisitically, the only thing cool about cards IMO is seeing the kids and how cute they are. Once I have kids I'll send, but right now, no one wants to get a generic card from me and hubby. Now see if I got a Christmas card from AM, that's a whole other story. Espeically when there are pics involved.
Maybe I'll send an update AND a card later......
It's just so awful how I feel like this is just one big dance. Like going to the mall and shopping, it's not a bad experience and I LOVE to shop, but I feel like in order for it to be successful, it has to be planned out. Why can't I just go to the mall, get what I feel like and leave? And why can't I just write what I want and be done with it? Because there is too much at stake. No one wants to disappoint, not in relationships or presents under the tree on Christmas morning. I hate that it's so planned out and so forced sometimes, but I can't not send anything, in hopes that it helps things progress just a teeny bit further. So as not to disappoint.
This is what happens when a relationship does not grow. I know that and I've accepted that this is just the way it is for us, but I hate phoning it in. I do genuinely want to write, I do want her to write back, but it's all surface talk. All the time. I have to pull teeth and hope for drama to get any more out of her. Still a zillion unanswered questions, written between the lines of the weather and holiday plans. Everything censored and sanitized and wrapped up in a big red bow.
Eh. Bah Humbug.
So here's the thing: I almost feel like my updates are getting stale. I don't lead that exciting a life. I'm hardly inspired to write when every update is "Hi AM, blah blah, I'm good how are you, we are busy, sure you are too. M is awesome, I am happy, write soon" I swear, I could pull the last holiday update and just cut and paste. What a cop out.
Last year, I sent an e-card, so I thought maybe I'd do that. However, I always feel like I need to stimulate the conversation, ask questions, probe for responses. I actually hate sending Christmas cards, I don't do it for family and friends because realisitically, the only thing cool about cards IMO is seeing the kids and how cute they are. Once I have kids I'll send, but right now, no one wants to get a generic card from me and hubby. Now see if I got a Christmas card from AM, that's a whole other story. Espeically when there are pics involved.
Maybe I'll send an update AND a card later......
It's just so awful how I feel like this is just one big dance. Like going to the mall and shopping, it's not a bad experience and I LOVE to shop, but I feel like in order for it to be successful, it has to be planned out. Why can't I just go to the mall, get what I feel like and leave? And why can't I just write what I want and be done with it? Because there is too much at stake. No one wants to disappoint, not in relationships or presents under the tree on Christmas morning. I hate that it's so planned out and so forced sometimes, but I can't not send anything, in hopes that it helps things progress just a teeny bit further. So as not to disappoint.
This is what happens when a relationship does not grow. I know that and I've accepted that this is just the way it is for us, but I hate phoning it in. I do genuinely want to write, I do want her to write back, but it's all surface talk. All the time. I have to pull teeth and hope for drama to get any more out of her. Still a zillion unanswered questions, written between the lines of the weather and holiday plans. Everything censored and sanitized and wrapped up in a big red bow.
Eh. Bah Humbug.
Friday, December 19, 2008
Some Quickies
1. Never underestimate the power of a snow day. When done right (ie: when we are dismissed JUST ahead of the storm) its kind of an adventure to get home, wrapped in a winter wonderland, Christmas music all around there is nothing better. Getting home right when the road get really bad? Priceless. Add a lit tree, hubby home, chinese delivery and a lappy to finish Christmas shopping and you might have the best winter day ever.
2. I have to send my Christmas e-mail to AM and I'm prcrastinating BAAAAD. No real reason, just lack of things to say other than "Merry Christmas, give me pictures STAT!". Ya think that would go over well?
3. I don't want to work tomorrow. I hate Saturdays at the office and the fact that the "reorganizing" project has now gotten a new manager (whom irks me to no end) and I have now had to pass the torch to her, the thought of spending 3 hours with her is not appealing. It's enough to want to forgo the time and a half and call it a day.
4. My niece is a pisser. She has taken to send me random texts here and there that are hysterical. Yet, I am still not cool enough to be her friend on Facebook. I heart 16 year olds.....
5. I am in the midst of trigger season, what with Christmas upon us. So far so good :)
2. I have to send my Christmas e-mail to AM and I'm prcrastinating BAAAAD. No real reason, just lack of things to say other than "Merry Christmas, give me pictures STAT!". Ya think that would go over well?
3. I don't want to work tomorrow. I hate Saturdays at the office and the fact that the "reorganizing" project has now gotten a new manager (whom irks me to no end) and I have now had to pass the torch to her, the thought of spending 3 hours with her is not appealing. It's enough to want to forgo the time and a half and call it a day.
4. My niece is a pisser. She has taken to send me random texts here and there that are hysterical. Yet, I am still not cool enough to be her friend on Facebook. I heart 16 year olds.....
5. I am in the midst of trigger season, what with Christmas upon us. So far so good :)
Thursday, December 11, 2008
Second Chances
There's always talk of loss in adoption: loss of identity, loss of your child, sometimes a loss of a dream of having biological children. I've come to realize that there are many different levels of loss in adoption. It's a choice that alters the course of your entire existance, not many come out unscathed. Some casualties are not obviously related to adoption itself, but the person you become as a result.
Such is the case of Bertha and I. (Forgive me, I'm running out of initials, and Bertha was one of my pet names for her) She was my closest friend from the day we ended up in almost every single seventh grade class together, all through high school. Class schedules weren't the only thing that we shared, we liked the same clothes, the same music, the same subjects. We even had handwriting that was nearly identical, since we practiced imitating eachothers writing in the thousands of notes we passed back and forth every single day. There were very few memories that I have of my early teen years without Bertha being a part of it. Towards the end of high school, we were both engrossed in our respective boyfriends and didn't spend quite as much time together on the weekends, but every day she picked me up for school, despite the fact that I didn't live on the way. We went out for lunch together, became co-editors on the newspaper staff together. We worked our part time jobs together. Summers through high school and beyond were spent at the beach almost every day, slathering ourselves in baby oil to maximize the few hours we may have had in the sun before work. Our first few really drunk experiences were together, memorizing the Budweiser labels and downing Jack Daniels.
Bertha went to college 800 miles away also, but in the other direction. We frequently called eachother despite the distance. However, I never told her about my secret, my plans to place my child for adoption. She knew of my pregnancy, but I don't remember talking much about it with her. For as close as we were, there were things we didn't talk about, like emotions. We both mantained a nice big wall from our innermost, vulnerable thoughts. Real deep things, like losing our virginity, her dad's death from a short term illness, M, we just didn't talk about. The other thing we never did was refer to eachother as "best" friends. We were partners in crime, thick as thieves. People saw us as a package deal. But never did we call eachother besties. Even if we were.
Bertha met her husband her first week of college. It was not surprising, she was one of those girls that pretty much had a serious boyfriend since the day she started to date. As their relationship grew more serious and she began to settle down, quit smoking and become responsible, I was floundering in my on again/ off again relationship with B, and withdrawing into clubbing and serial dating. I kept everyone at an arms length, afraid that they might figure out or learn of my secret. And it was an easy secret to keep from Bertha, because she was only home for the summers and breaks. Yet, I felt guilty keeping it from her. It wasn't that I thought she wouldn't understand. I just didn't want to talk about it. Still I wanted to tell her, to know what I had been through. It created a wedge between us
I had been asked to be a bridesmaid in Bertha's wedding, even though by that point we hadn't spoken in a while. I was barely involved in the planning, not by choice either. She did include me in the picking of the dresses, but that was all. Her other bridesmaids were all at the same point in their lives as Bertha was, seriously dating their boyfriends, on the cusp of engagement. I can't even begin to remember who I was dating at the time, as I went to her wedding alone. The other girls palled around planning her shower and her bachelorette, letting me know at the very last minute. I didn't get a chance to contribute. I was slightly aware of what the other girls thought about me: stuck in the past, still hanging around her high school boy toy, college dropout who spent her weekends bar hopping. I withdrew more and more, at that time I had little self esteem. I believed the hype. But what they didn't know was that I had absolutely no ability to get close to anyone, nor did they know why.
I remember the last few times Bertha and I spoke, it was awkward. For two girls that started out carbon copies of one another, we couldn't be more different at that point. We went out to dinner, me, Bertha and her husband, and spent the majority of the time reminiscing about the past, because that was all we had. I remember at the time I drove home and wondered when she got so "lame" and domestic. Deep down, I knew that I really didn't think that way, I was jealous of her for staying "on track" as she always did. She had the white picket fence . I was truly happy for her, in fact of all my friends who were marrying their boyfriends, I knew her and her hubby would make it. They had it all together. I didn't. I was at a baddish point, living the life of a guilty birthmother, sabotaging my relationships and sheltering myself from anyone who would get too close.
Our relationships dwindled to sporadic Christmas cards from Bertha. Some of them I didn't even open because I just felt too awful that I pushed her away. I got a birth announcement from her when she had her first child, and I didn't even know she was pregnant. The years went on, and I got a second birth anouncement when she had her second. By that time, I had been in a better place, living on my own, going back to school, and dating my husband to be. I realized I missed her, missed out on all the things we didn't talk about but assumed we would be a part of, and curious as to why we hadn't talked, yet I still got her announcements. I called her and left a message, but didn't hear back. A few years went by and I got another Christmas card. I sent her a card later that year for her birthday with my contact info, but didn't hear back from her. I felt terrible. I knew I let the relationship go, and I knew why. I built up too many walls. To this day, there isn't a week that goes by that something doesn't remind me of her, whether it's a song, a word or phrase we warped or a sarcastic joke about, a rite of passage that we shared. And I wished I could tell her about M, about how if she felt ignored or slighted, it wasn't her, it was me. Not too long ago, I had found myself driving through her neighborhood, detoured past her block, and wondered if I knocked, would she answer?
And then a strange twist happened just yesterday. I had gotten an e-mail to set up a meeting for my boss, and one of the people who were copied on the e-mail was Bertha. I knew she had once worked in the same industry, but since I hadn't crossed paths with her, I had assumed she had moved on. Usually, I respond to just the originator of the message, but since I knew the other people who were copied fairly well, I replied all with my response. She didn't know my married name, so I wasn't sure if she would know it was me. I wanted to e-mail her, but in the professional setting I wasn't sure how it would go over. She knew it was me. She e-mailed me tentatively, asking my maiden name. When I confirmed it was indeed her best friend from high school, she responded in an excited e-mail about how much she was sad that we drifted apart, and how she would love to see me. I'm going to call her this weekend, and hopefully we can start to build the relationship back.
Sometimes, despite the loss we feel, we need to break down those walls, as scary as they are, and let people we care about in. And when we get the opportunity to bridge the gap, we need to take it, before that chance slips away.
Food for thought......
Such is the case of Bertha and I. (Forgive me, I'm running out of initials, and Bertha was one of my pet names for her) She was my closest friend from the day we ended up in almost every single seventh grade class together, all through high school. Class schedules weren't the only thing that we shared, we liked the same clothes, the same music, the same subjects. We even had handwriting that was nearly identical, since we practiced imitating eachothers writing in the thousands of notes we passed back and forth every single day. There were very few memories that I have of my early teen years without Bertha being a part of it. Towards the end of high school, we were both engrossed in our respective boyfriends and didn't spend quite as much time together on the weekends, but every day she picked me up for school, despite the fact that I didn't live on the way. We went out for lunch together, became co-editors on the newspaper staff together. We worked our part time jobs together. Summers through high school and beyond were spent at the beach almost every day, slathering ourselves in baby oil to maximize the few hours we may have had in the sun before work. Our first few really drunk experiences were together, memorizing the Budweiser labels and downing Jack Daniels.
Bertha went to college 800 miles away also, but in the other direction. We frequently called eachother despite the distance. However, I never told her about my secret, my plans to place my child for adoption. She knew of my pregnancy, but I don't remember talking much about it with her. For as close as we were, there were things we didn't talk about, like emotions. We both mantained a nice big wall from our innermost, vulnerable thoughts. Real deep things, like losing our virginity, her dad's death from a short term illness, M, we just didn't talk about. The other thing we never did was refer to eachother as "best" friends. We were partners in crime, thick as thieves. People saw us as a package deal. But never did we call eachother besties. Even if we were.
Bertha met her husband her first week of college. It was not surprising, she was one of those girls that pretty much had a serious boyfriend since the day she started to date. As their relationship grew more serious and she began to settle down, quit smoking and become responsible, I was floundering in my on again/ off again relationship with B, and withdrawing into clubbing and serial dating. I kept everyone at an arms length, afraid that they might figure out or learn of my secret. And it was an easy secret to keep from Bertha, because she was only home for the summers and breaks. Yet, I felt guilty keeping it from her. It wasn't that I thought she wouldn't understand. I just didn't want to talk about it. Still I wanted to tell her, to know what I had been through. It created a wedge between us
I had been asked to be a bridesmaid in Bertha's wedding, even though by that point we hadn't spoken in a while. I was barely involved in the planning, not by choice either. She did include me in the picking of the dresses, but that was all. Her other bridesmaids were all at the same point in their lives as Bertha was, seriously dating their boyfriends, on the cusp of engagement. I can't even begin to remember who I was dating at the time, as I went to her wedding alone. The other girls palled around planning her shower and her bachelorette, letting me know at the very last minute. I didn't get a chance to contribute. I was slightly aware of what the other girls thought about me: stuck in the past, still hanging around her high school boy toy, college dropout who spent her weekends bar hopping. I withdrew more and more, at that time I had little self esteem. I believed the hype. But what they didn't know was that I had absolutely no ability to get close to anyone, nor did they know why.
I remember the last few times Bertha and I spoke, it was awkward. For two girls that started out carbon copies of one another, we couldn't be more different at that point. We went out to dinner, me, Bertha and her husband, and spent the majority of the time reminiscing about the past, because that was all we had. I remember at the time I drove home and wondered when she got so "lame" and domestic. Deep down, I knew that I really didn't think that way, I was jealous of her for staying "on track" as she always did. She had the white picket fence . I was truly happy for her, in fact of all my friends who were marrying their boyfriends, I knew her and her hubby would make it. They had it all together. I didn't. I was at a baddish point, living the life of a guilty birthmother, sabotaging my relationships and sheltering myself from anyone who would get too close.
Our relationships dwindled to sporadic Christmas cards from Bertha. Some of them I didn't even open because I just felt too awful that I pushed her away. I got a birth announcement from her when she had her first child, and I didn't even know she was pregnant. The years went on, and I got a second birth anouncement when she had her second. By that time, I had been in a better place, living on my own, going back to school, and dating my husband to be. I realized I missed her, missed out on all the things we didn't talk about but assumed we would be a part of, and curious as to why we hadn't talked, yet I still got her announcements. I called her and left a message, but didn't hear back. A few years went by and I got another Christmas card. I sent her a card later that year for her birthday with my contact info, but didn't hear back from her. I felt terrible. I knew I let the relationship go, and I knew why. I built up too many walls. To this day, there isn't a week that goes by that something doesn't remind me of her, whether it's a song, a word or phrase we warped or a sarcastic joke about, a rite of passage that we shared. And I wished I could tell her about M, about how if she felt ignored or slighted, it wasn't her, it was me. Not too long ago, I had found myself driving through her neighborhood, detoured past her block, and wondered if I knocked, would she answer?
And then a strange twist happened just yesterday. I had gotten an e-mail to set up a meeting for my boss, and one of the people who were copied on the e-mail was Bertha. I knew she had once worked in the same industry, but since I hadn't crossed paths with her, I had assumed she had moved on. Usually, I respond to just the originator of the message, but since I knew the other people who were copied fairly well, I replied all with my response. She didn't know my married name, so I wasn't sure if she would know it was me. I wanted to e-mail her, but in the professional setting I wasn't sure how it would go over. She knew it was me. She e-mailed me tentatively, asking my maiden name. When I confirmed it was indeed her best friend from high school, she responded in an excited e-mail about how much she was sad that we drifted apart, and how she would love to see me. I'm going to call her this weekend, and hopefully we can start to build the relationship back.
Sometimes, despite the loss we feel, we need to break down those walls, as scary as they are, and let people we care about in. And when we get the opportunity to bridge the gap, we need to take it, before that chance slips away.
Food for thought......
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
The Real Deal
I was lost in thought during my drive home, thinking about the upcoming holiday and ideas for the Christmas e-mail I usually send to AM. I wondered if I'd get pics, I've gotten them every year around this time and I'm long overdue, as she never sent the summer or school pics she promised. Which got me wondering about where M might be at now with getting to know me, if she is any closer now than she was a year ago. How does she feel about her mom and I communicating, since in the past 4 or 5 months things have been fairly consistant? Maybe she wonders what we talk about? Is she jealous that she isn't included? Maybe it secretly bothers her that we have a relationship and she's too scared to say anything? Or are we, her mom and I, just not on her radar?
I do have hope that one day we will meet. Her mom seems fairly certain this will happen one day, whether it's just a feeling she has or if she knows something she doesn't think she should share yet. But I still have to prep myself for the possibility that she never will. Call me worst case scenario girl, I prefer to hope for the best and prepare for the worst.
I understand that to M, I may not even be a real person to her. I'm sure that since she has always been aware that she is adopted, the concept of her birthparents was just that, a concept. Somewhere out there, there were two teenagers who had a baby and gave that baby to her parents because they couldn't take care of her. I probably ranked right up there with the Tooth Fairy and Santa Claus. Which isn't bad company to be in, IMO. But eventually, you grow up and find out that Santa and the Tooth Fairy don't exist. M grew up to find out that her birthmother indeed does exist. She has a name and a face and family and friends. And she is no longer a teenager. Or a myth, or a wish on a star. When M saw my pictures, suddenly I became real.
Ironic huh? How we all debate over who is the "real" mom. I never considered myself M's real mom, but when I was out of touch, I was "real" to her. Yet, when she saw who I was, and I became truly tangible, truly a real person and not a figment of her imagination, I became too real to handle.
It's really something, isn't it?
I do have hope that one day we will meet. Her mom seems fairly certain this will happen one day, whether it's just a feeling she has or if she knows something she doesn't think she should share yet. But I still have to prep myself for the possibility that she never will. Call me worst case scenario girl, I prefer to hope for the best and prepare for the worst.
I understand that to M, I may not even be a real person to her. I'm sure that since she has always been aware that she is adopted, the concept of her birthparents was just that, a concept. Somewhere out there, there were two teenagers who had a baby and gave that baby to her parents because they couldn't take care of her. I probably ranked right up there with the Tooth Fairy and Santa Claus. Which isn't bad company to be in, IMO. But eventually, you grow up and find out that Santa and the Tooth Fairy don't exist. M grew up to find out that her birthmother indeed does exist. She has a name and a face and family and friends. And she is no longer a teenager. Or a myth, or a wish on a star. When M saw my pictures, suddenly I became real.
Ironic huh? How we all debate over who is the "real" mom. I never considered myself M's real mom, but when I was out of touch, I was "real" to her. Yet, when she saw who I was, and I became truly tangible, truly a real person and not a figment of her imagination, I became too real to handle.
It's really something, isn't it?
Sunday, December 7, 2008
The "R" Word
I spent this Sunday AM in my favorite winter position: In bed, coffee in hand, gossiping with my best friend. Since tis' the season for school reunions, we were talking about the reunions that have gone on in the area. Last night, N ran into an old neighbor of mine who would have had his fifteen year reunion last weekend. She asked him if he had gone, and he scoffed at the idea.
"No. I have no interest in going to those things. Everyone there hasn't changed or grown up."
I love that excuse, because how do you know that no one's changed or grown up if you didn't go?
When my 10 year was on the horizon, I looked forward to it. Hello, open bar, cheezy walks down memory lane, and old aquaintences I haven't seen? Sign me up! I'm also a big fan of "I Love the 80's" movie marathons, "Where Are They Now" documentaries and old Benetton rugby shirts. I don't feel anything creepy about nostalgia or old photos or reminiscing. The past is what it is, I can choose to remember the bad, humiliating parts of it, or I can celebrate it as part of who I am. And with the benefit of hindsight and maturity, I've actually rekindled old friendships, and gotten to know people whom I didn't have opportunity to know back in high school for whatever reason. But liking reunions doesn't make me immature or stuck in the past, and to insinuate that to me is pretty absurd and narrowminded IMO.
Now I know people who don't share my interest, and that's OK. My hubby is one of them. He just doesn't feel a yearning to look up old classmates online or go to improptu bar reunions at holiday time. It's just not his thing. And that's cool. Cooler still is that he does not make assumptions about others who do choose to go and partake. I saw it when my reunion approached. I got the same reaction from some of my ex-classmates when I asked if they were going to be there. An eye roll, a smirk, and a snort. Like they wouldn't be caught dead at an organized event such as the reunion. With people like me who actually discuss these things in advance. "Why do you care so much?" their eyes and tone would say. "Aren't you happy with your life? Why are you searching to reconnect with your past?"
I got that reaction from B. When I got my invite, we were still sort of in touch and civil. I asked if he was going and he wrote back some comment about how there wasn't anyone he would travel a distance to see. Ouch. Thanks a lot, buddy, sorry I won't get to see you too. Six months later, we had a falling out. He had tried to message me, but I put it on the back burner. The night after the reunion, I was checking e-mail to see who from the reunion had written, and I found an e-mail from B written the night before. He made mention of the fact that I was probably at the moment at the party, talking about him to his old friends that don't talk to him anymore because of me, and how he didn't go to the reunion because he didn't feel like he would be welcome since he and his friends fell out of touch because I badmouthed him and painted him as a bad person.
Seriously now. Didn't I extend the invite to you? But instead of sucking it up and coming out, or saying "It's just too far, tell everyone I said hi." he fell into the common trap of overhyping the entire thing and putting it down becaus ehe lacked the courage to just go. I mean, you were given a choice, you said no, and now you are pissed off because no one begged you to reconsider or call it off because you didn't want to go? He probably sat at home and moped because he had his own issues that he couldn't face, he projected them all on to me and blamed me for it. Envisioned cocktails flowing and scintillating conversation and me in the center, cackling with all his friends about what an asshole he was. And then he had to heap up a big piece of humble pie when I responded that a) out of the three friends of his that showed, b) only one of them asked about him and c) he merely asked if I still talked to him and I said no and that was the end of the topic. No one said boo about him, good bad or otherwise. Which then lead to a two paragraph defense of how I did not contribute to the demise of his friendships, and that he really needed to get a grip.
News flash, it's not about you. Did you seriously think it was? Do you have that big an ego that you let it ruin your evening and torture yourself by thinking it was? Fool. And if you would have packed your balls, grabbed a flight and gone with an open mind, you would have seen it for yourself. Maybe even had a good time, in spite of yourself.
My friend JC also fell into the whole "all about me" trap. Unlike B, she decided to go with us to her reunion. But she went with an agenda. See, JC had a lot of issues fitting in back in high school. She wanted to break into the uber snotty crowd and make herself into something she wasn't. Eventually, she stopped trying, but she got really bitter about it. Now most of us get older and process things and try to accept life the way it happened. Sure we all didn't grow up blonde haired blue eyed cheerleaders with trust funds and quarterback boyfriends. We wonder what life would have been like if we had been the prom queen. I still see pics of certain people I didn't know very well and wonder what it would have been like to have their teen years. I'm also pretty aware of the fact that people might say that about me, a brown haired brown eyed athlete who dated a defensive end, tho sometimes I choose to remember myself as the girl who developed early and got picked on mercilessly for it in the sixth grade to the point that I would not go to school. Or JC, a truly insane gymnast who's tryout for JV cheerleading still has me in awe just remembering it, yet she sees herself as someone who didn't live in a white picket fence house, but one that harbored years of emotional abuse.
It is what it is, we didn't choose our destiny, just how we handle what life has given us. And at the time of the reunion, JC was doing pretty well. Married, kids, looked good, etc etc, and she knew it. But she wanted validation from the bitchy girls who denied her when she was 15. She wanted her crush to come and tell her how hot she looked and that she was the one who got away. Neither happened. The next day in our post mortem, she told me she thought the reunion sucked, that she was sorry she went, and that she would not go to the next one. She went on to complain how no one told her she looked amazing, the one person she wanted to come didn't, and everyone still fell all over the same girls they had in high school.
It's not really what I saw. I saw JC having a ball, talking to random people and dancing her ass off. I saw people who never spoke to eachother at all striking up brief conversation, but sticking mostly with what was comfortable and those they were comfortable with. And the only people falling were the bitchy girls, since they had too much to drink and a hard time standing up. Basically, I saw what I expected to see, I made the best of it, and went home tired and hungover and indifferent, yet open to another go round. Again, it's one evening. It's not possible to heal years of hurt feelings in five hours. But maybe, there is perspective to be gained. Maybe the fact that people did embrace her, even if it was not the way she had hoped, was the nugget that could help her look within herself and try to heal on her own. After all, people don't have the power to heal you, you have to heal yourself. And maybe after the scabs have stopped bleeding, you can go back to the next function with an open mind, and realize that certain things don't matter, as long as you have self confidence and a willingness to adapt and move forward an connect with people in a meaningful way that could be mutally rewarding in the here and now.
I hung up the phone this morning and sought to catch up on everyone's blogs. And now it's got my mind and fingers all warmed up to delve back into this bloggy thing. A forwarn in advance, some of the things that are going through my mind aren't pretty, but neither are some of the things I read this AM.
Because you really didn't think that I was just stuck in high school mode, did you?
"No. I have no interest in going to those things. Everyone there hasn't changed or grown up."
I love that excuse, because how do you know that no one's changed or grown up if you didn't go?
When my 10 year was on the horizon, I looked forward to it. Hello, open bar, cheezy walks down memory lane, and old aquaintences I haven't seen? Sign me up! I'm also a big fan of "I Love the 80's" movie marathons, "Where Are They Now" documentaries and old Benetton rugby shirts. I don't feel anything creepy about nostalgia or old photos or reminiscing. The past is what it is, I can choose to remember the bad, humiliating parts of it, or I can celebrate it as part of who I am. And with the benefit of hindsight and maturity, I've actually rekindled old friendships, and gotten to know people whom I didn't have opportunity to know back in high school for whatever reason. But liking reunions doesn't make me immature or stuck in the past, and to insinuate that to me is pretty absurd and narrowminded IMO.
Now I know people who don't share my interest, and that's OK. My hubby is one of them. He just doesn't feel a yearning to look up old classmates online or go to improptu bar reunions at holiday time. It's just not his thing. And that's cool. Cooler still is that he does not make assumptions about others who do choose to go and partake. I saw it when my reunion approached. I got the same reaction from some of my ex-classmates when I asked if they were going to be there. An eye roll, a smirk, and a snort. Like they wouldn't be caught dead at an organized event such as the reunion. With people like me who actually discuss these things in advance. "Why do you care so much?" their eyes and tone would say. "Aren't you happy with your life? Why are you searching to reconnect with your past?"
I got that reaction from B. When I got my invite, we were still sort of in touch and civil. I asked if he was going and he wrote back some comment about how there wasn't anyone he would travel a distance to see. Ouch. Thanks a lot, buddy, sorry I won't get to see you too. Six months later, we had a falling out. He had tried to message me, but I put it on the back burner. The night after the reunion, I was checking e-mail to see who from the reunion had written, and I found an e-mail from B written the night before. He made mention of the fact that I was probably at the moment at the party, talking about him to his old friends that don't talk to him anymore because of me, and how he didn't go to the reunion because he didn't feel like he would be welcome since he and his friends fell out of touch because I badmouthed him and painted him as a bad person.
Seriously now. Didn't I extend the invite to you? But instead of sucking it up and coming out, or saying "It's just too far, tell everyone I said hi." he fell into the common trap of overhyping the entire thing and putting it down becaus ehe lacked the courage to just go. I mean, you were given a choice, you said no, and now you are pissed off because no one begged you to reconsider or call it off because you didn't want to go? He probably sat at home and moped because he had his own issues that he couldn't face, he projected them all on to me and blamed me for it. Envisioned cocktails flowing and scintillating conversation and me in the center, cackling with all his friends about what an asshole he was. And then he had to heap up a big piece of humble pie when I responded that a) out of the three friends of his that showed, b) only one of them asked about him and c) he merely asked if I still talked to him and I said no and that was the end of the topic. No one said boo about him, good bad or otherwise. Which then lead to a two paragraph defense of how I did not contribute to the demise of his friendships, and that he really needed to get a grip.
News flash, it's not about you. Did you seriously think it was? Do you have that big an ego that you let it ruin your evening and torture yourself by thinking it was? Fool. And if you would have packed your balls, grabbed a flight and gone with an open mind, you would have seen it for yourself. Maybe even had a good time, in spite of yourself.
My friend JC also fell into the whole "all about me" trap. Unlike B, she decided to go with us to her reunion. But she went with an agenda. See, JC had a lot of issues fitting in back in high school. She wanted to break into the uber snotty crowd and make herself into something she wasn't. Eventually, she stopped trying, but she got really bitter about it. Now most of us get older and process things and try to accept life the way it happened. Sure we all didn't grow up blonde haired blue eyed cheerleaders with trust funds and quarterback boyfriends. We wonder what life would have been like if we had been the prom queen. I still see pics of certain people I didn't know very well and wonder what it would have been like to have their teen years. I'm also pretty aware of the fact that people might say that about me, a brown haired brown eyed athlete who dated a defensive end, tho sometimes I choose to remember myself as the girl who developed early and got picked on mercilessly for it in the sixth grade to the point that I would not go to school. Or JC, a truly insane gymnast who's tryout for JV cheerleading still has me in awe just remembering it, yet she sees herself as someone who didn't live in a white picket fence house, but one that harbored years of emotional abuse.
It is what it is, we didn't choose our destiny, just how we handle what life has given us. And at the time of the reunion, JC was doing pretty well. Married, kids, looked good, etc etc, and she knew it. But she wanted validation from the bitchy girls who denied her when she was 15. She wanted her crush to come and tell her how hot she looked and that she was the one who got away. Neither happened. The next day in our post mortem, she told me she thought the reunion sucked, that she was sorry she went, and that she would not go to the next one. She went on to complain how no one told her she looked amazing, the one person she wanted to come didn't, and everyone still fell all over the same girls they had in high school.
It's not really what I saw. I saw JC having a ball, talking to random people and dancing her ass off. I saw people who never spoke to eachother at all striking up brief conversation, but sticking mostly with what was comfortable and those they were comfortable with. And the only people falling were the bitchy girls, since they had too much to drink and a hard time standing up. Basically, I saw what I expected to see, I made the best of it, and went home tired and hungover and indifferent, yet open to another go round. Again, it's one evening. It's not possible to heal years of hurt feelings in five hours. But maybe, there is perspective to be gained. Maybe the fact that people did embrace her, even if it was not the way she had hoped, was the nugget that could help her look within herself and try to heal on her own. After all, people don't have the power to heal you, you have to heal yourself. And maybe after the scabs have stopped bleeding, you can go back to the next function with an open mind, and realize that certain things don't matter, as long as you have self confidence and a willingness to adapt and move forward an connect with people in a meaningful way that could be mutally rewarding in the here and now.
I hung up the phone this morning and sought to catch up on everyone's blogs. And now it's got my mind and fingers all warmed up to delve back into this bloggy thing. A forwarn in advance, some of the things that are going through my mind aren't pretty, but neither are some of the things I read this AM.
Because you really didn't think that I was just stuck in high school mode, did you?
Saturday, December 6, 2008
The Ties that Bind
Today, I headed out to my old stomping grounds to get my hair cut and colored for the holiday season. It took quicker than I expected to get out there, but instead of killing time at my parents house, I decided to take a drive. I passed the my old high school, circling around the movie theatre, past the catering hall and the famous pizza place. I drove through McDonald's, picked up lunch and headed for downtown. I was listening to the big pop station, and the new Metro Station song played in the background, waxing poetic about young love and risks at 17. It's Christmas, all my triggers were out and in full force.
Yet I was pretty indifferent. Instead of absorbing the lyrics to the song, it grated on me with it's silly teen pop emo whining. And even though the hardware store and the theatre have been there forever, the landscape of my town was different. So many new houses and roads built, I didn't know where some of them lead to. Woods that were used in my childhood as a playground and my teen years as a hangout are now chain drug stores and condo complexes. It was familiar, but there was little sentimental attachment. Life, and my town, had both moved on.
As a birthmother, I feel like part of my past is always with me in the present. There are times when it's second nature to me, that there are some things I will never get over, that I will never move on from. My daughter, the fact that she can trace her roots to my neighborhood and to me and B, they have been incorporated into the person I am today. It's all one big mush that's been melded together at this point, inextricable from one another.
Lately, I resent it. Not M, never M. But the past, the connections and the ties that bind them all together. Ties that are now moving out of the past and into the cyber present. I have recently reunited with almost every part of my childhood past via Facebook, and the only person left to crop up is B. Everyday, that circle gets smaller in the form of one more person who has a closer tie to him. Last weekend, I noticed his brother was starting to crop up in my circle of friends. I had watched it a hundred times before as a now out of the closet "Crackbook" addict. Someone from school signs up, and all it takes is just one person to be their friend, and then thanks to the news feed feature, everyone else descends like vultures, the mutual friends mulitiply. They get invited to the same groups and comment on the same pictures until you are forced to either block them out or friend out of too many mutual connections. And then, you see the best friends, and the siblings get talked into joining up. And so on and so forth.
I felt the ties that bind choking me.
I called my best friend to whine, and she points out the obvious:
"You might as well face the fact that there is always going to be the risk that you will run into him again one day."
Blech. Some friend. I mean, what's the point of him moving across the country if I still have a risk of seeing him again?
Later on that night, one of B's friends joined up. He was the only person I knew of from the old days who still talked to B well after graduation. We had been pretty close as well for a while, randomly catching up on things. And like a jealous ex who was competitive, I quickly friended him. Yes, primarily because we were always close, but there was that teeny tiny part of me that will admit I did it to stake my claim in the event he does decide to join up. I know that's childish and selfish and all that, but it's not like I went out and friended a minor child to stake my claim. We've exchanged messages, and it's quickly become the elephant in the room, where as before we freely talked about B like it was just another school friend in common. I don't want to ask if he's talked to him in the past two years, if he knows about what happened with M. If he knows the reason why B stopped talking to me. I feel like he hasn't asked because he does.
I had coffee again last night with my friend J. In discussing our current obsession with Facebook and gossiping about our old classmates, we talked about a recent article about how online social networks threatened to make traditional high school reunions obsolete. We decided that if no one stepped up to plan our impending 20 year reunion, J and I would take the initiative and tackle the task. It made sense, both of us are pretty outgoing, social, and nosy people. Between the two of us and Facebook, we could get most of the class into it. Later on, I mentioned an old best friend whom I have no interest in reconciling with, and she joked about having her reunion invite "re-routed." It wasn't until the drive home that I realized if we were going to pull this off, we would have to dig up an invite to B as well. Damn school ties. Could we re-route his invite too? With my luck, he'd learn that I was spearheading the reunion planning and decide it was a personal vendetta that he was not invited and cry foul. Wah wah wah all the way to M.
The thing is tho, the reunion, shared custody of friends, and co-existing in the cyber world are all things that will likely bother him more than me. It's an annoyance for me that I can't wave my magic wand and make him disappear, especially now when I've finally processed and put away his role in recent events. But for years I have prepared for my past never fully staying rooted, and that past always included him. I'll bitch and whine and vent about it, but in front of an audience, I can put my big girl panties on and act the part if I have to, since I've done it for so long. I won't be sitting home stewing on the night of our reunion feeling resentful that my past is right there having a blast. I won't stop myself from joining a group and reconnecting with old friends because he's already there.
Doesn't mean I won't pray he doesn't come ;)
Yet I was pretty indifferent. Instead of absorbing the lyrics to the song, it grated on me with it's silly teen pop emo whining. And even though the hardware store and the theatre have been there forever, the landscape of my town was different. So many new houses and roads built, I didn't know where some of them lead to. Woods that were used in my childhood as a playground and my teen years as a hangout are now chain drug stores and condo complexes. It was familiar, but there was little sentimental attachment. Life, and my town, had both moved on.
As a birthmother, I feel like part of my past is always with me in the present. There are times when it's second nature to me, that there are some things I will never get over, that I will never move on from. My daughter, the fact that she can trace her roots to my neighborhood and to me and B, they have been incorporated into the person I am today. It's all one big mush that's been melded together at this point, inextricable from one another.
Lately, I resent it. Not M, never M. But the past, the connections and the ties that bind them all together. Ties that are now moving out of the past and into the cyber present. I have recently reunited with almost every part of my childhood past via Facebook, and the only person left to crop up is B. Everyday, that circle gets smaller in the form of one more person who has a closer tie to him. Last weekend, I noticed his brother was starting to crop up in my circle of friends. I had watched it a hundred times before as a now out of the closet "Crackbook" addict. Someone from school signs up, and all it takes is just one person to be their friend, and then thanks to the news feed feature, everyone else descends like vultures, the mutual friends mulitiply. They get invited to the same groups and comment on the same pictures until you are forced to either block them out or friend out of too many mutual connections. And then, you see the best friends, and the siblings get talked into joining up. And so on and so forth.
I felt the ties that bind choking me.
I called my best friend to whine, and she points out the obvious:
"You might as well face the fact that there is always going to be the risk that you will run into him again one day."
Blech. Some friend. I mean, what's the point of him moving across the country if I still have a risk of seeing him again?
Later on that night, one of B's friends joined up. He was the only person I knew of from the old days who still talked to B well after graduation. We had been pretty close as well for a while, randomly catching up on things. And like a jealous ex who was competitive, I quickly friended him. Yes, primarily because we were always close, but there was that teeny tiny part of me that will admit I did it to stake my claim in the event he does decide to join up. I know that's childish and selfish and all that, but it's not like I went out and friended a minor child to stake my claim. We've exchanged messages, and it's quickly become the elephant in the room, where as before we freely talked about B like it was just another school friend in common. I don't want to ask if he's talked to him in the past two years, if he knows about what happened with M. If he knows the reason why B stopped talking to me. I feel like he hasn't asked because he does.
I had coffee again last night with my friend J. In discussing our current obsession with Facebook and gossiping about our old classmates, we talked about a recent article about how online social networks threatened to make traditional high school reunions obsolete. We decided that if no one stepped up to plan our impending 20 year reunion, J and I would take the initiative and tackle the task. It made sense, both of us are pretty outgoing, social, and nosy people. Between the two of us and Facebook, we could get most of the class into it. Later on, I mentioned an old best friend whom I have no interest in reconciling with, and she joked about having her reunion invite "re-routed." It wasn't until the drive home that I realized if we were going to pull this off, we would have to dig up an invite to B as well. Damn school ties. Could we re-route his invite too? With my luck, he'd learn that I was spearheading the reunion planning and decide it was a personal vendetta that he was not invited and cry foul. Wah wah wah all the way to M.
The thing is tho, the reunion, shared custody of friends, and co-existing in the cyber world are all things that will likely bother him more than me. It's an annoyance for me that I can't wave my magic wand and make him disappear, especially now when I've finally processed and put away his role in recent events. But for years I have prepared for my past never fully staying rooted, and that past always included him. I'll bitch and whine and vent about it, but in front of an audience, I can put my big girl panties on and act the part if I have to, since I've done it for so long. I won't be sitting home stewing on the night of our reunion feeling resentful that my past is right there having a blast. I won't stop myself from joining a group and reconnecting with old friends because he's already there.
Doesn't mean I won't pray he doesn't come ;)
Sunday, November 23, 2008
A Little More Conversation
I haven't been around much, as you've noticed. And there are a lot of reasons for it, some completely life related (ie: I got a new project at work that has left me working uber OT and away from my computer) and some adoption related (ie: nothing all that new, so it's not at the forefront of my life) I don't like being out of touch with everyone, I feel like I'm sort of disappointing everyone in a way. When I did have a lot to say, I was acutely aware of the fact that some of the things I wrote helped people, and they came here to get something out of it, even if it was just piece of mind that there is another person out there that "got it". And I hate not having that to contribute, since there are so many people out there that I learned from. I don't want to abandon this blog, but I'm struggling to find time to fit it in. It sucks. But it's also given me some perspective in my own situation.
Case in point:
1. In my internet travels, one of the people I have gotten in touch with is my old friend G. I love G, she and I have known eachother since we were about 12. Pre-internet days, it was hard to keep in touch with someone who traveled a different life path. Nowadays, you can pretty much find anyone who you knew in some way or another. We reconnected at the end of the summer. For a month, we wrote epic e-mails, not unlike the notes we passed back and forth through our teen years. It's been my turn now for the past almost two months and I haven't responded to her. She gave me her phone number and asked me to call her a few times, and I haven't. I 've promised a lot of "I'm working on it!" but the fact is, it hasn't happened.
You are probably thinking that makes me one big hypocrite, after years of saying "You can always make time for someone you care about!" And I still stand by that for the most part. However, my correspondences with G are not 5 minute "Hey! Here are the new pics I promised you!" type of e-mails. These e-mails are longer than most of my blog entries. A phone call? Easy three hours, on top of the fact that she is two hours behind me, and has two kids, so my several hour block of time "free" is right smack in the middle of her dinner time. Lately, if I can't correspond with you via quick text or Facebook comment, you haven't heard from me. It's not personal at all, and she's in great company (TG, my sisters, all y'all!) But to boot, she has made some comments to me like "Glad I'm not holding my breath, ha ha!" that to me are a little obnoxious and has turned me off a bit. Yet in the back of my head, my words come back to bite me, and I feel the guilt trip. Suddenly, I get why AM might not have written or called at times. No, it doesn't excuse the two years of blowoffs, especially when things have been difficult between us. But I can see how when trying to juggle things in life, an e-mail of more than three lines seems a daunting task.
Which brings me to...
2. On our big anniversary trip earlier this year, we visited my SIL. She is married to a work a holic and has three very adoreable, well rounded and ACTIVE children. We hadn't expected to make our visit more than a day, but she insisted we stay with her since "we are never home anyway, I'm always running around with the kids." She wasn't kidding! At 6 AM, she got up to start the kids off at school, then spent her time checking into her kids schedules and gossiping with the other sports moms about changes (OMG! Did you know that Coach changed this to that time? I have to bring so and so here and then bring this and that there......) But come 2PM, it was game on, literally. Two boys playing on 6 sports teams between them. SIL feels guilty that her daughter just plays on two teams and does not get to spend as much "time" with her (via the back seat of the mini van, which seems to be the definition of quality time in her household). Somehow these kids pack in enough time to also be showered, dressed, and homeworked by 8:30-9 to be in bed. (Maybe it's the fact that they do not have computer time or TV allowences!) Saturdays were worse, these kids had played one game and were at the breakfast table gearing up for game two by the time we were getting out of bed! The sad thing is? On our last day, we went to one of the games, and learned that all the other moms and dads are just like they are! They have their stat sheets in hand and the other kids in other uniforms in tow, their bleacher seats and backpack chairs strapped to them eager to see what their little star can do.
Now I played sports in my day, and I know that my parents sacrificed countless weekends at my things. I remember a time when I had to cut things out of my schedule because I left at 6AM and did not come home until 9PM. I also know it was clearly voulentary, and my parents knew enough was enough. There were plenty of times when my mom sent me to things in carpool fashion and missed out on my competitions because of things with the other kids, (and plenty of races she missed while sneaking a cigarette with the other moms!) But my parents never ever revolved their lives around mine or any of my siblings for that matter. Included, yes. Participated in, sure. But never did they lose that balance between parent and person. Such is not the way of the world these days, it seems as if that concept has fallen by the wayside along with cords on phones and playing outside unsupervised until dusk. My SIL has NO identity aside from being Supermom, save the occasional spin class. No friends, no lunch dates, nothing of her own. If we had more than a five minute rushed conversation with her it was a lot. But she seems happy with that, and more power to her. And again, as I sat in her Pottery Barn house and listened to her remind the kids to gather their belongings at the front door for the next morning, I could easily imagine being in AM's house observing the same scene. From her point of view, she DOESN'T have time between her shuttling and cheering her children on, checking e-mail for practice changes and homework issues. So in a way, who am I to tell her that she does?
3. Earlier this year, I had offered my 16 year old niece the opportunity to work with me as a clerk in my office. Admittedly, I had a few glasses of wine, and really did not think that this was more appealing than her looking for a job at say, Abercrombie. So when my other SIL e-mailed me to tell me that T was very interested in it, I was surprised. And completely unprepared for what I was in for. T is a good kid, and on paper, she and M are identical twins. Perfect grades. Athletic. Morals. Goals. But as I learned, even the best kids can leave you scratching your head and wondering "WTF!"
I have come to learn that no matter how much the cool youngish aunt I am, I am still an adult, AKA public enemy #1. One minute I am "chill",the next she is blocking me from being her friend on Facebook, because she has a "strict no adult relative policy". I am still a complete dork because I cannot text as fast as her, and I start sentences with " I remember when I was in high school...". and end them with " Mustangs were cool because Vanilla Ice had them in his video!" I may have We the Kings and Kanye on my i-Pod, but it shares space with Madonna and Billy Joel, therefore her headphones go in the minute she gets in my truck.
Which she loves. Along with the fact that we both watch "Heroes" and are obsessed with shoes and accessories. I am apparently also deemed young and cool enough to have a pierced belly button, and when I told her that I was getting to an age where that is just too "old lady trying to hang on to her youth" creepy she tells me her other aunt who is in her 40's has one ( and she is old lady creepy) and I look 25 anyway, so I could pull it off. (And how awful is it that I immediately wondered what she was trying to butter me up for?) She comes over to me to gossip when she sees me at my MIL's house, and she asked me to help her hand out her favors at her Sweet 16 dinner. But give her five minutes, and she'll have her head buried in her Blackberry, or walks off to go play with her younger cousins. Bottom line, I have no idea where I stand with this kid, but I gather it changes with the wind. She's sarcastic and funny and secretive and outgoing and all together confusing. I found myself half dreading our hour long rides to work, half looking forward to what T would say or want to talk about next.
And then the "a-HA!" moment hits, and things fall into place. Why M won't talk to her mom about me, why her interest in me is there, but she won't make a move. Why she really is too young to deal with all of this right now. Why even the coolest of hip cats are uncool to 16 year olds , even if she is wearing Uggs and knows who Serena and Blair are. Why I'm not 100% sure I want to deal with the capricious interest of a teenager right now. The fact that at one time, she felt it was important to tell everyone on the world wide web that she wanted to meet me means that there is something there that will likely one day materialize into contact. And how important it is to let that happen to her naturally, because emotionally, she isn't mature enough to handle it any other way.
So even though I am "super crazy busy!" the truth is that I really am at a good place right now. I have patience in droves and no desire to put a lot of energy and worry into my adoption relationship. In fact, I am six weeks overdue in sending AM the link to my pics, and the past 8 weeks have flew since we have last talked. I've barely stalked my e-mail, even if I had the time to do that. I deleted my myspace and the tracker in order to give M the privacy she deserves, and because it was taking too much obsessing over things that aren't meant to be right now.
Today is about catching up, sending those links, hey, maybe even calling G. And wishing eveyone lots of love and health this Thanksgiving :)
And a really special shout out to a particular two year old on her birthday :) And BOTH her mommies, one of who I can promise you is the most hippest cat of them all! Love you TG and Cupcake <3
Case in point:
1. In my internet travels, one of the people I have gotten in touch with is my old friend G. I love G, she and I have known eachother since we were about 12. Pre-internet days, it was hard to keep in touch with someone who traveled a different life path. Nowadays, you can pretty much find anyone who you knew in some way or another. We reconnected at the end of the summer. For a month, we wrote epic e-mails, not unlike the notes we passed back and forth through our teen years. It's been my turn now for the past almost two months and I haven't responded to her. She gave me her phone number and asked me to call her a few times, and I haven't. I 've promised a lot of "I'm working on it!" but the fact is, it hasn't happened.
You are probably thinking that makes me one big hypocrite, after years of saying "You can always make time for someone you care about!" And I still stand by that for the most part. However, my correspondences with G are not 5 minute "Hey! Here are the new pics I promised you!" type of e-mails. These e-mails are longer than most of my blog entries. A phone call? Easy three hours, on top of the fact that she is two hours behind me, and has two kids, so my several hour block of time "free" is right smack in the middle of her dinner time. Lately, if I can't correspond with you via quick text or Facebook comment, you haven't heard from me. It's not personal at all, and she's in great company (TG, my sisters, all y'all!) But to boot, she has made some comments to me like "Glad I'm not holding my breath, ha ha!" that to me are a little obnoxious and has turned me off a bit. Yet in the back of my head, my words come back to bite me, and I feel the guilt trip. Suddenly, I get why AM might not have written or called at times. No, it doesn't excuse the two years of blowoffs, especially when things have been difficult between us. But I can see how when trying to juggle things in life, an e-mail of more than three lines seems a daunting task.
Which brings me to...
2. On our big anniversary trip earlier this year, we visited my SIL. She is married to a work a holic and has three very adoreable, well rounded and ACTIVE children. We hadn't expected to make our visit more than a day, but she insisted we stay with her since "we are never home anyway, I'm always running around with the kids." She wasn't kidding! At 6 AM, she got up to start the kids off at school, then spent her time checking into her kids schedules and gossiping with the other sports moms about changes (OMG! Did you know that Coach changed this to that time? I have to bring so and so here and then bring this and that there......) But come 2PM, it was game on, literally. Two boys playing on 6 sports teams between them. SIL feels guilty that her daughter just plays on two teams and does not get to spend as much "time" with her (via the back seat of the mini van, which seems to be the definition of quality time in her household). Somehow these kids pack in enough time to also be showered, dressed, and homeworked by 8:30-9 to be in bed. (Maybe it's the fact that they do not have computer time or TV allowences!) Saturdays were worse, these kids had played one game and were at the breakfast table gearing up for game two by the time we were getting out of bed! The sad thing is? On our last day, we went to one of the games, and learned that all the other moms and dads are just like they are! They have their stat sheets in hand and the other kids in other uniforms in tow, their bleacher seats and backpack chairs strapped to them eager to see what their little star can do.
Now I played sports in my day, and I know that my parents sacrificed countless weekends at my things. I remember a time when I had to cut things out of my schedule because I left at 6AM and did not come home until 9PM. I also know it was clearly voulentary, and my parents knew enough was enough. There were plenty of times when my mom sent me to things in carpool fashion and missed out on my competitions because of things with the other kids, (and plenty of races she missed while sneaking a cigarette with the other moms!) But my parents never ever revolved their lives around mine or any of my siblings for that matter. Included, yes. Participated in, sure. But never did they lose that balance between parent and person. Such is not the way of the world these days, it seems as if that concept has fallen by the wayside along with cords on phones and playing outside unsupervised until dusk. My SIL has NO identity aside from being Supermom, save the occasional spin class. No friends, no lunch dates, nothing of her own. If we had more than a five minute rushed conversation with her it was a lot. But she seems happy with that, and more power to her. And again, as I sat in her Pottery Barn house and listened to her remind the kids to gather their belongings at the front door for the next morning, I could easily imagine being in AM's house observing the same scene. From her point of view, she DOESN'T have time between her shuttling and cheering her children on, checking e-mail for practice changes and homework issues. So in a way, who am I to tell her that she does?
3. Earlier this year, I had offered my 16 year old niece the opportunity to work with me as a clerk in my office. Admittedly, I had a few glasses of wine, and really did not think that this was more appealing than her looking for a job at say, Abercrombie. So when my other SIL e-mailed me to tell me that T was very interested in it, I was surprised. And completely unprepared for what I was in for. T is a good kid, and on paper, she and M are identical twins. Perfect grades. Athletic. Morals. Goals. But as I learned, even the best kids can leave you scratching your head and wondering "WTF!"
I have come to learn that no matter how much the cool youngish aunt I am, I am still an adult, AKA public enemy #1. One minute I am "chill",the next she is blocking me from being her friend on Facebook, because she has a "strict no adult relative policy". I am still a complete dork because I cannot text as fast as her, and I start sentences with " I remember when I was in high school...". and end them with " Mustangs were cool because Vanilla Ice had them in his video!" I may have We the Kings and Kanye on my i-Pod, but it shares space with Madonna and Billy Joel, therefore her headphones go in the minute she gets in my truck.
Which she loves. Along with the fact that we both watch "Heroes" and are obsessed with shoes and accessories. I am apparently also deemed young and cool enough to have a pierced belly button, and when I told her that I was getting to an age where that is just too "old lady trying to hang on to her youth" creepy she tells me her other aunt who is in her 40's has one ( and she is old lady creepy) and I look 25 anyway, so I could pull it off. (And how awful is it that I immediately wondered what she was trying to butter me up for?) She comes over to me to gossip when she sees me at my MIL's house, and she asked me to help her hand out her favors at her Sweet 16 dinner. But give her five minutes, and she'll have her head buried in her Blackberry, or walks off to go play with her younger cousins. Bottom line, I have no idea where I stand with this kid, but I gather it changes with the wind. She's sarcastic and funny and secretive and outgoing and all together confusing. I found myself half dreading our hour long rides to work, half looking forward to what T would say or want to talk about next.
And then the "a-HA!" moment hits, and things fall into place. Why M won't talk to her mom about me, why her interest in me is there, but she won't make a move. Why she really is too young to deal with all of this right now. Why even the coolest of hip cats are uncool to 16 year olds , even if she is wearing Uggs and knows who Serena and Blair are. Why I'm not 100% sure I want to deal with the capricious interest of a teenager right now. The fact that at one time, she felt it was important to tell everyone on the world wide web that she wanted to meet me means that there is something there that will likely one day materialize into contact. And how important it is to let that happen to her naturally, because emotionally, she isn't mature enough to handle it any other way.
So even though I am "super crazy busy!" the truth is that I really am at a good place right now. I have patience in droves and no desire to put a lot of energy and worry into my adoption relationship. In fact, I am six weeks overdue in sending AM the link to my pics, and the past 8 weeks have flew since we have last talked. I've barely stalked my e-mail, even if I had the time to do that. I deleted my myspace and the tracker in order to give M the privacy she deserves, and because it was taking too much obsessing over things that aren't meant to be right now.
Today is about catching up, sending those links, hey, maybe even calling G. And wishing eveyone lots of love and health this Thanksgiving :)
And a really special shout out to a particular two year old on her birthday :) And BOTH her mommies, one of who I can promise you is the most hippest cat of them all! Love you TG and Cupcake <3
Thursday, November 13, 2008
The Can of Worms....
One of my favorite movies is "When Harry Met Sally." I remember going to the movies with a guy friend of mine when I was 15 to see that movie (and why we went as just friends I cant remember, but I do know we might have kissed, but it never connected.) and the part that always sticks out to me is the one where they are driving in the car, and arguing over how men and women can't be friends. I didn't get it as a teenager, and in a way, I still don't get it. I have a lot of guy friends that I have collected through the years. Most I talk to now on Facebook, or e-mail, because we've moved on from the hanging out years, and have morphed into married adults. It's just not acceptable anymore for me and the boys to go out drinking on Friday night, sans spouses. Sure, there are a few that my hubby has met that I still see, at happy hour or on Sundays when the work guys get together for football. And my hubby will kiss me goodbye and tell me to have fun, since watching football for him is a sacred ritual that involved intense concentration and solitiude and not shooting the shit over a few brews. And no one I know thinks it's weird, because they know me, and they know hubby and that's how we roll. But sometimes I wonder if I called the boys and proposed a Friday night old times drink fest at the old hang out, if that would be strange. Or more, I wonder why it WOULD be strange.
So my mom tells me tonight that she got a call from a guy who she thought was looking for my little sister. It turns out that it wasn't for her, it was for me. And it was a guy from my past. A guy that was a HUGE part of my single girl, Carrie Bradshaw-eque past. He was my Mr. Big for seven years, that guy who was a little older, a little cooler, and oh so evasive. If B defined my life for the first part of the 1990's, Big defined the latter part. In fact, it was in 1995 when I met him, and could see the torch pass between B and Big, almost literally, as I met Big at a bar and was instantly smitten, mere minutes after I had bumped smack into B, who was there on his first night of employment as a bar back. B was out and Big was in, in a very big way.
Big and I instantly clicked. Despite the six year age difference, we had the same taste in music, we laughed and talked and were inseperable for a long time. We flirted and danced around, and quickly became drinking buddies, and bed buddies as well. He was always up front with me, from day one he told me he was not interested in a relationship. And having gone through that with B, I knew what he meant. But at 21, I was still naive, and as the years went by, I knew I would want more. And I knew Big wouldn't, no matter how close we would get.
Big wasn't the guy you curled up with and shared your inner most emotions. He preferred to stay out of confessions of the heart. But you could talk to him about anything. Politics, history, music, he was very knowledgeable and intelligent. He liked adventure and good times. He was a good soul, loved his family fiercely, and in his own warped way, did his best to do the right thing. In my single girl days, we would call eachother and make our plans to hook up at all the cooler, trendy hangouts, if there was a new bar or club that was open, we graced it with out presence. We would hole up in his basement apartment on Sundays and order chinese, or share the dinner his mom made for us and watch football or study. We would stay up for hours on end talking about 80's new wave and pop music, watching old movies or downloading songs and making CD's for eachother. At one point, I practically lived at his house, going there after work, and sleeping over and leaving the next day to work all over again. I loved his family, they treated me like I was one of them. I remember playing ball with his nephew and video games with his neighbor, or tagging along with his friends to parties. People always mistook us for a couple, because we meshed so well together.
But Big wasn't couple material. He had commitment issues that ran way too deep. He was a free spirit, always looking for the next big adventure. And lots of times it took him miles away. He would get the itch and drive cross country, settle down temporarily in some random happening new town and immerse himself in his enviroment. He'd call me weekly and catch up, and tell me he missed me. Yet, I knew, he was looking for a party, and a new girl to hook up with to complete his experience. But as much as he hated his hometown, he'd always return to home base, where me and my family were there for him. In my early 20's I didn't get it. I understood it to a point, but was still of the mindset that if we were so good together, why that wasn't enough. He still saw other women, sometimes he'd pick them up in front of me. He was unreliable, there were more than one occasions that he was supposed to come over for my birthday, or be my date to a wedding, and leave me hanging because of a raging hangover or just plain forgetfulness. There were times he'd even hit on my friends. They all shared that love/hate relationship with me, they loved how fun and engaging he was, how we had this chemistry together, but hated how he just wouldn't grow up and make a committment, or ride off into the sunset and let me be.
I merely learned to adapt. I loved Big as a person. I loved Big as a friend. I loved Big in bed. ANd I wanted him in my life. But I knew the writing on the wall. I dated others, knowing all the while that he was mine in the moment. If I met someone that could offer me the life I wanted, he'd have to go. For seven years, that was the arrangement. He was a self confessed hypocrite, eveytime I told him that I had met a new guy, and the "bennies" part of our relationship had to end, he'd pull out the stops. The "I love you"s would come out. He'd call every night, begging me to come over. The other guys were never serious, and sooner or later, I'd relent, and things would be back to normal again.
Until I met my hubby. That was one guy that "I love you" could not get me to cave. The last time Big and I talked, I had been with my hubby for a few months. He begged and begged me to come over and "get a movie". When I refused, he said he would call me later. He never did. I guess he somehow he knew it was the end. And it was.
Six years later, I stared at the phone. I wondered why he called now. What made Big think of me, what made him want to call me out of nowhere. My mom had told him that I was married, which I knew wouldn't bother him. Curiousity got the better of me. It was crazy weird to dial his number, that I still knew by heart. Crazier still that he picked up, and knew it was me right away.
"Caller ID, right?"
"Nope. I know your voice." he replied.
Three hours later, we were all caught up. He told me about his adventures, which took him to Brazil, and the Dominican. I told him about my honeymoon to Aruba. He told me about his son, that he had with a casual fling, and how hard it is to be in his life and deal with the drama of co-parenting with someone who holds a grudge that he did not marry her when she came to his doorstep with a three month old. I told him about M, whom he remembered me talking about from time to time, and how cool it was that I am in touch with her, that she looks like me and that she was athletic like he remembered me to be. We talked about my wedding, my husband, and my family, about his family and his elderly parents. We brought up bad times and good times and our mutual obsession with 80's music. He told me he knew he was a dick to me a lot of times, and I told him that I was just a kid, but I knew it was what it was. He said he was happy that I married and that I would probably be married forever. I told him I was glad we talked.
And then he said he wanted to see me. Not like "I want to see you alone, on a date" like "I want to take you to dinner with your husband." Like "I want your hubby to teach me how to be a better fisherman". He wants to be BFF again, and not just with me, with me and my new life and everyone in it.
It's... weird. Because Carrie did not marry Aiden and invite Big out to brunch or to the new big club. She married her Big. And I married my REAL Big, not the guy who created all the drama in my single life, but my soul mate. But why? Why can't we all be one big happy dysfunctional family? I have absolutely no desire to be intimate with Big ever again, and he offered to bring a date so it isn't weird, and refused the suggestion that we meet up alone for lunch (with my hubby's blessing, of course!) because he said it wouldn't be right. So what's the problem? I'd love to meet his son, to sit in his mom's kitchen and eat her meatloaf again and take a drive and blare When In Rome or OMD again for old times. Did I lose that right when I said "I do"? Or was it when I first slept with him? Can men and women really be just friends? Even after they do the deed? And says who?
If I'm not cheating, either sexually or emotionally, why not?
So my mom tells me tonight that she got a call from a guy who she thought was looking for my little sister. It turns out that it wasn't for her, it was for me. And it was a guy from my past. A guy that was a HUGE part of my single girl, Carrie Bradshaw-eque past. He was my Mr. Big for seven years, that guy who was a little older, a little cooler, and oh so evasive. If B defined my life for the first part of the 1990's, Big defined the latter part. In fact, it was in 1995 when I met him, and could see the torch pass between B and Big, almost literally, as I met Big at a bar and was instantly smitten, mere minutes after I had bumped smack into B, who was there on his first night of employment as a bar back. B was out and Big was in, in a very big way.
Big and I instantly clicked. Despite the six year age difference, we had the same taste in music, we laughed and talked and were inseperable for a long time. We flirted and danced around, and quickly became drinking buddies, and bed buddies as well. He was always up front with me, from day one he told me he was not interested in a relationship. And having gone through that with B, I knew what he meant. But at 21, I was still naive, and as the years went by, I knew I would want more. And I knew Big wouldn't, no matter how close we would get.
Big wasn't the guy you curled up with and shared your inner most emotions. He preferred to stay out of confessions of the heart. But you could talk to him about anything. Politics, history, music, he was very knowledgeable and intelligent. He liked adventure and good times. He was a good soul, loved his family fiercely, and in his own warped way, did his best to do the right thing. In my single girl days, we would call eachother and make our plans to hook up at all the cooler, trendy hangouts, if there was a new bar or club that was open, we graced it with out presence. We would hole up in his basement apartment on Sundays and order chinese, or share the dinner his mom made for us and watch football or study. We would stay up for hours on end talking about 80's new wave and pop music, watching old movies or downloading songs and making CD's for eachother. At one point, I practically lived at his house, going there after work, and sleeping over and leaving the next day to work all over again. I loved his family, they treated me like I was one of them. I remember playing ball with his nephew and video games with his neighbor, or tagging along with his friends to parties. People always mistook us for a couple, because we meshed so well together.
But Big wasn't couple material. He had commitment issues that ran way too deep. He was a free spirit, always looking for the next big adventure. And lots of times it took him miles away. He would get the itch and drive cross country, settle down temporarily in some random happening new town and immerse himself in his enviroment. He'd call me weekly and catch up, and tell me he missed me. Yet, I knew, he was looking for a party, and a new girl to hook up with to complete his experience. But as much as he hated his hometown, he'd always return to home base, where me and my family were there for him. In my early 20's I didn't get it. I understood it to a point, but was still of the mindset that if we were so good together, why that wasn't enough. He still saw other women, sometimes he'd pick them up in front of me. He was unreliable, there were more than one occasions that he was supposed to come over for my birthday, or be my date to a wedding, and leave me hanging because of a raging hangover or just plain forgetfulness. There were times he'd even hit on my friends. They all shared that love/hate relationship with me, they loved how fun and engaging he was, how we had this chemistry together, but hated how he just wouldn't grow up and make a committment, or ride off into the sunset and let me be.
I merely learned to adapt. I loved Big as a person. I loved Big as a friend. I loved Big in bed. ANd I wanted him in my life. But I knew the writing on the wall. I dated others, knowing all the while that he was mine in the moment. If I met someone that could offer me the life I wanted, he'd have to go. For seven years, that was the arrangement. He was a self confessed hypocrite, eveytime I told him that I had met a new guy, and the "bennies" part of our relationship had to end, he'd pull out the stops. The "I love you"s would come out. He'd call every night, begging me to come over. The other guys were never serious, and sooner or later, I'd relent, and things would be back to normal again.
Until I met my hubby. That was one guy that "I love you" could not get me to cave. The last time Big and I talked, I had been with my hubby for a few months. He begged and begged me to come over and "get a movie". When I refused, he said he would call me later. He never did. I guess he somehow he knew it was the end. And it was.
Six years later, I stared at the phone. I wondered why he called now. What made Big think of me, what made him want to call me out of nowhere. My mom had told him that I was married, which I knew wouldn't bother him. Curiousity got the better of me. It was crazy weird to dial his number, that I still knew by heart. Crazier still that he picked up, and knew it was me right away.
"Caller ID, right?"
"Nope. I know your voice." he replied.
Three hours later, we were all caught up. He told me about his adventures, which took him to Brazil, and the Dominican. I told him about my honeymoon to Aruba. He told me about his son, that he had with a casual fling, and how hard it is to be in his life and deal with the drama of co-parenting with someone who holds a grudge that he did not marry her when she came to his doorstep with a three month old. I told him about M, whom he remembered me talking about from time to time, and how cool it was that I am in touch with her, that she looks like me and that she was athletic like he remembered me to be. We talked about my wedding, my husband, and my family, about his family and his elderly parents. We brought up bad times and good times and our mutual obsession with 80's music. He told me he knew he was a dick to me a lot of times, and I told him that I was just a kid, but I knew it was what it was. He said he was happy that I married and that I would probably be married forever. I told him I was glad we talked.
And then he said he wanted to see me. Not like "I want to see you alone, on a date" like "I want to take you to dinner with your husband." Like "I want your hubby to teach me how to be a better fisherman". He wants to be BFF again, and not just with me, with me and my new life and everyone in it.
It's... weird. Because Carrie did not marry Aiden and invite Big out to brunch or to the new big club. She married her Big. And I married my REAL Big, not the guy who created all the drama in my single life, but my soul mate. But why? Why can't we all be one big happy dysfunctional family? I have absolutely no desire to be intimate with Big ever again, and he offered to bring a date so it isn't weird, and refused the suggestion that we meet up alone for lunch (with my hubby's blessing, of course!) because he said it wouldn't be right. So what's the problem? I'd love to meet his son, to sit in his mom's kitchen and eat her meatloaf again and take a drive and blare When In Rome or OMD again for old times. Did I lose that right when I said "I do"? Or was it when I first slept with him? Can men and women really be just friends? Even after they do the deed? And says who?
If I'm not cheating, either sexually or emotionally, why not?
And the verdict is......
Not pregnant.
But here's the thing, I'm OKAY with that. We weren't trying, so I wasn't stressing. I'm actually a little relieved. It's the curse of a birthmom, never feeling READY to be a mom. Never feeling like you are really ready to be a GOOD mom because at one time you weren't.
I know I will be. Someday. But not now. And right now that's OK with me :)
But here's the thing, I'm OKAY with that. We weren't trying, so I wasn't stressing. I'm actually a little relieved. It's the curse of a birthmom, never feeling READY to be a mom. Never feeling like you are really ready to be a GOOD mom because at one time you weren't.
I know I will be. Someday. But not now. And right now that's OK with me :)
Sunday, November 2, 2008
Maybe baby?
Top Reasons Why Brown Might Be Pregnant:
1. I had sex during "that time"
I haven't really been tracking days, basically because my hubby and I are not really gung ho trying. I am semi aware of them tho, I'm pretty regular so for me it's not that hard. Lately, my days have been during the week, and lets face it, my hubby and I are more "weekend warriors". But without getting TOO personal, I can tell you thanks to us both getting the flu, we haven't really been doing much. But we randomly decided to partake one Wednesday night, and when I look back, it wasn't the ideal day, but close enough. Eek!
2. Things aren't fitting right
Is it my imagination, or did my bra suddenly become ill-fitting? It's not like the girls have been busting out, but they were peeking out of the bottom in a few. OK, realistically the straps were pulled all the way all the way tight. Do I always wear it that way? I can't remember. And it's not that my pants are uber uncomfortable, but I feel like the wash might have shrunk a few of them. Not all the time tho, I can still button them, and a lot of the time they bother me on my drive or on the couch, when I've been sitting too long. It's all I can do when I get home from work not to rip them off at the threshhold and run for the sweats.
3. Sleep is my new best friend
Lets be honest, sleep was ALWAYS in my inner circle. I was never a morning person, and if I don't get my eight hours, you might not want to be near me for a while. Usually, I peter out around 9:30 in the beginning of the week and it gets earlier as the week goes on. The past week? I hit a wall in the evening. Again, it's not every evening, but it's happened more than once. The time varies, but it's not just a lethargic state I find myself in, I go from a little tired to delirious in 0.8 seconds. Like it's suddenly 3 AM and I haven't slept in a week. My eyes hurt and tear, and I'm constantly yawning. I struggle to stay awake until 10PM, because going to bed before that will screw me up the whole week. But it's torture!! Consequently, I can't get up in the morning. I've been sleeping later than usual when I can, which makes my boss oh-so thrilled that I have been 10 minutes late...
4. Supersize that, please!
Again, me and food like eachother. I was never very girly girly about my appetite. Bring on the fries, the heros, the big helpings of rice. With my portion sizes, sometimes you wonder how I am not 700 pounds. I eat until I'm full, which sometimes is right away, sometimes not. My saving grace is that I eat 3 meals and that's usually it. I'm not a snacker, and I don't have a sweet tooth. I hate soda, unless we are talking mixed with a little rum ;) And sometimes, just a can of soup will satisfy me until dinner break. But like the sleep thing, the last week the hunger just hits me out of nowhere, and it's a different kind of hunger than usual. My stomach growls like I haven't eaten in days. It's nothing that a quick fix can't handle (yesterday it was a single french bread pizza) but in an hour or two, it better be meal time......
Top Reasons Why Brown Might Be Out of Her Mind:
1. So I had sex on that "day". I guarentee that if I look back on the times we have been "careless" over the past months we have played Russian Roulette, this isn't the first time. No we haven't been looking to "hit the mark "so to speak, and though there is a 16 year old girl out there who can attest to the fact that you dont have to aim to hit it. I think it might be a little presumptuous to think that the calendar is golden. Or else everyone would get knocked up first try all the time, barring outside issues.
2. Yeah, I need new bras. Some of them have been in my drawer for a year or more, so the fact that they might have lost elasticity and aren't properly taking care of the twins is a possibility. They aren't in a lot of pain either, squish them and they don't cry. Bloating? Hello, that's a PMS sign also. When I was away last month, I was super bloated to the point that my jeans were unbuttoned under my tunic top, and the waistband of my pants dug into my pants to the point that I was wondering if I was pregnant. On top of the fact that I was peeing every three minutes on cue (it's true, ask TG!!!) That's something that I haven't been experiencing, and the only symptom I recall from my pregnancy with M. But I got my period on the last day of vaca, and it turned out that between that and the fact that I was drinking 17 gallons of water a day, that explained my symptoms just as much. Also, the truth of the matter is that I have not been very diligent at the gym (like I haven't been in over a month.....) and not only are my pants trying to tell me to go, my knees haven't been thrilled either.
3. Work has been hell lately. Drama and politics are all over the place. It's not exactly making me bound out of bed all cheery and Tiggerlike. I also had to get up at FIVE THIRTY the other day to get to work super early for my boss. I'm sure that isn't helping the sleep thing. Neither is the fact that I have pretty much neglected not only my exercise routine, but whatever healthy eating habits I have left. Not a lot of water. A whole lot more vino and coffee. That my friends, can run you down.
4. Can't explain the eating thing, except maybe I can't remember how much I've been eating, so yeah, it is possible that I'm not eating a lot at a sitting and a cup of soup just aint cutting it. It's not entirely unusual for me to eat "off schedule" since I really don't have one.
Some of it is what I DON'T have that makes me think I'm being overly analytical. Aside from the bathroom breaks and the breast soreness, I'm not moody, or irritable, or overly emotional. I don't have headaches. And I'm not late.... yet. For chrissakes, it's been a week since the deed was done! Doesn't happen that fast, I can't remember 17 years back!!! If I was torturing myself more, I'd go drop a 20 on one of those early detection tests, but in a week, I won't need a test to tell me if I'm pregnant, if I'm more than three days late, it's pretty much a lock.
Which would make me more than a little happy. And all of you cyber auties :) I'll let you know when I do my friends! Ack!!
1. I had sex during "that time"
I haven't really been tracking days, basically because my hubby and I are not really gung ho trying. I am semi aware of them tho, I'm pretty regular so for me it's not that hard. Lately, my days have been during the week, and lets face it, my hubby and I are more "weekend warriors". But without getting TOO personal, I can tell you thanks to us both getting the flu, we haven't really been doing much. But we randomly decided to partake one Wednesday night, and when I look back, it wasn't the ideal day, but close enough. Eek!
2. Things aren't fitting right
Is it my imagination, or did my bra suddenly become ill-fitting? It's not like the girls have been busting out, but they were peeking out of the bottom in a few. OK, realistically the straps were pulled all the way all the way tight. Do I always wear it that way? I can't remember. And it's not that my pants are uber uncomfortable, but I feel like the wash might have shrunk a few of them. Not all the time tho, I can still button them, and a lot of the time they bother me on my drive or on the couch, when I've been sitting too long. It's all I can do when I get home from work not to rip them off at the threshhold and run for the sweats.
3. Sleep is my new best friend
Lets be honest, sleep was ALWAYS in my inner circle. I was never a morning person, and if I don't get my eight hours, you might not want to be near me for a while. Usually, I peter out around 9:30 in the beginning of the week and it gets earlier as the week goes on. The past week? I hit a wall in the evening. Again, it's not every evening, but it's happened more than once. The time varies, but it's not just a lethargic state I find myself in, I go from a little tired to delirious in 0.8 seconds. Like it's suddenly 3 AM and I haven't slept in a week. My eyes hurt and tear, and I'm constantly yawning. I struggle to stay awake until 10PM, because going to bed before that will screw me up the whole week. But it's torture!! Consequently, I can't get up in the morning. I've been sleeping later than usual when I can, which makes my boss oh-so thrilled that I have been 10 minutes late...
4. Supersize that, please!
Again, me and food like eachother. I was never very girly girly about my appetite. Bring on the fries, the heros, the big helpings of rice. With my portion sizes, sometimes you wonder how I am not 700 pounds. I eat until I'm full, which sometimes is right away, sometimes not. My saving grace is that I eat 3 meals and that's usually it. I'm not a snacker, and I don't have a sweet tooth. I hate soda, unless we are talking mixed with a little rum ;) And sometimes, just a can of soup will satisfy me until dinner break. But like the sleep thing, the last week the hunger just hits me out of nowhere, and it's a different kind of hunger than usual. My stomach growls like I haven't eaten in days. It's nothing that a quick fix can't handle (yesterday it was a single french bread pizza) but in an hour or two, it better be meal time......
Top Reasons Why Brown Might Be Out of Her Mind:
1. So I had sex on that "day". I guarentee that if I look back on the times we have been "careless" over the past months we have played Russian Roulette, this isn't the first time. No we haven't been looking to "hit the mark "so to speak, and though there is a 16 year old girl out there who can attest to the fact that you dont have to aim to hit it. I think it might be a little presumptuous to think that the calendar is golden. Or else everyone would get knocked up first try all the time, barring outside issues.
2. Yeah, I need new bras. Some of them have been in my drawer for a year or more, so the fact that they might have lost elasticity and aren't properly taking care of the twins is a possibility. They aren't in a lot of pain either, squish them and they don't cry. Bloating? Hello, that's a PMS sign also. When I was away last month, I was super bloated to the point that my jeans were unbuttoned under my tunic top, and the waistband of my pants dug into my pants to the point that I was wondering if I was pregnant. On top of the fact that I was peeing every three minutes on cue (it's true, ask TG!!!) That's something that I haven't been experiencing, and the only symptom I recall from my pregnancy with M. But I got my period on the last day of vaca, and it turned out that between that and the fact that I was drinking 17 gallons of water a day, that explained my symptoms just as much. Also, the truth of the matter is that I have not been very diligent at the gym (like I haven't been in over a month.....) and not only are my pants trying to tell me to go, my knees haven't been thrilled either.
3. Work has been hell lately. Drama and politics are all over the place. It's not exactly making me bound out of bed all cheery and Tiggerlike. I also had to get up at FIVE THIRTY the other day to get to work super early for my boss. I'm sure that isn't helping the sleep thing. Neither is the fact that I have pretty much neglected not only my exercise routine, but whatever healthy eating habits I have left. Not a lot of water. A whole lot more vino and coffee. That my friends, can run you down.
4. Can't explain the eating thing, except maybe I can't remember how much I've been eating, so yeah, it is possible that I'm not eating a lot at a sitting and a cup of soup just aint cutting it. It's not entirely unusual for me to eat "off schedule" since I really don't have one.
Some of it is what I DON'T have that makes me think I'm being overly analytical. Aside from the bathroom breaks and the breast soreness, I'm not moody, or irritable, or overly emotional. I don't have headaches. And I'm not late.... yet. For chrissakes, it's been a week since the deed was done! Doesn't happen that fast, I can't remember 17 years back!!! If I was torturing myself more, I'd go drop a 20 on one of those early detection tests, but in a week, I won't need a test to tell me if I'm pregnant, if I'm more than three days late, it's pretty much a lock.
Which would make me more than a little happy. And all of you cyber auties :) I'll let you know when I do my friends! Ack!!
Saturday, October 25, 2008
Long Time No Speak!!!
My challenge, if I choose to accept it, is to finish one blog post. No I have not forgotten you all, and yes, I have been writing, but for whatever reason, I cannot finish one post to the point where I can post it. My draft folder has maybe 10 or so half finished thoughts that I save with the intent of going back to, only to find that when I do come back, my mind has moved on to other things. Part of it is due to work, I haven't been able to work on my blog the way I used to due to crappy ass work politics preventing me from getting online sometimes period, much less on this site to promote my "secret" life. Part of it is that I'm stuck in the abyss known as Facebook :)
So lets see, the short of it is that all is well in Brownland, especially in the Adoptionville section. No, nothings changed. M is still M, amazing and awesome and living out the typical American suburban teenaged life. AM is still AM, flaky, unreliable, but well intentioned. She sent a nice update a few weeks back when I wrote, promised pics, never got them. But it is what it is. I've changed in the sense that I've gotten accustomed to it. I don't think it's personal, I think that it will happen when it's meant to. In the meantime, I have my own life that needs tending to.
B is still B, prick bastard extrodinaire. No, I haven't heard from him, and no, I don't want to. Lately it is the trend with my cyber reunion on Facebook to post old pics of high school, and I thank everyone for sparing me the sight of any pics of the two of us together. It has helped me look back and remember the time for what it really was, fun times with good people. Lots of people remember me as being an upbeat, happy person, and that is who I want to be. I love the fact that M is the same way. I know that B changed me, I can see how such a toxic person had an effect on my life, and I don't want that, don't NEED that in my present or my future. It's bad enough I had that in my past.
I was snooping around before on there and I came across P's profile. P who with D, rounded out the foursome with me and B on our Friday date excursions. P and I who were inseperable for the last six months of high school, who knows about M and was my confidant for a while when I found out I was pregnant. I have not seen P in over 10 years, as the friendship sort of got lost in my sowing some oats after M was born and she was still D's girlfriend. Six months ago I would have told you that I would LOVE LOVE to see P again. But today, I sort of skipped over it. I would love to know how she is, what her family is like, but to be honest, her place in my life is one of those that is strictly tied to my relationship with B. Unlike D, who graduated with me and has that connection to my life as a classmate, P went to another school. Unlike the other girls that hung out with us, P and I did not pal around at parties and bars in our early 20's. There is not one memory of me that she has that does not involve B. I don't want to go there. I have no problem dishing about my life now, M, B's present jerkiness (which she predicted long ago) but to rehash old times is just not on my agenda at the moment. Part of me feels bad I'm sure she's moved on and I see she's married to someone else. But if truth be told, without the B connection, we had nothing. I didn't even like her when I first met her. I'm sure that if I give it time, she'll end up friending someone I know and we'll connect that way, or heck, I may change my mind. It's been known to happen ;)
Its almost 4AM, and I am winding down, so while I don't want to leave you on this note, if I don't hit "publish" I will slip into the abyss again :) I miss you all, and promise I'll be back soon for more!!!
So lets see, the short of it is that all is well in Brownland, especially in the Adoptionville section. No, nothings changed. M is still M, amazing and awesome and living out the typical American suburban teenaged life. AM is still AM, flaky, unreliable, but well intentioned. She sent a nice update a few weeks back when I wrote, promised pics, never got them. But it is what it is. I've changed in the sense that I've gotten accustomed to it. I don't think it's personal, I think that it will happen when it's meant to. In the meantime, I have my own life that needs tending to.
B is still B, prick bastard extrodinaire. No, I haven't heard from him, and no, I don't want to. Lately it is the trend with my cyber reunion on Facebook to post old pics of high school, and I thank everyone for sparing me the sight of any pics of the two of us together. It has helped me look back and remember the time for what it really was, fun times with good people. Lots of people remember me as being an upbeat, happy person, and that is who I want to be. I love the fact that M is the same way. I know that B changed me, I can see how such a toxic person had an effect on my life, and I don't want that, don't NEED that in my present or my future. It's bad enough I had that in my past.
I was snooping around before on there and I came across P's profile. P who with D, rounded out the foursome with me and B on our Friday date excursions. P and I who were inseperable for the last six months of high school, who knows about M and was my confidant for a while when I found out I was pregnant. I have not seen P in over 10 years, as the friendship sort of got lost in my sowing some oats after M was born and she was still D's girlfriend. Six months ago I would have told you that I would LOVE LOVE to see P again. But today, I sort of skipped over it. I would love to know how she is, what her family is like, but to be honest, her place in my life is one of those that is strictly tied to my relationship with B. Unlike D, who graduated with me and has that connection to my life as a classmate, P went to another school. Unlike the other girls that hung out with us, P and I did not pal around at parties and bars in our early 20's. There is not one memory of me that she has that does not involve B. I don't want to go there. I have no problem dishing about my life now, M, B's present jerkiness (which she predicted long ago) but to rehash old times is just not on my agenda at the moment. Part of me feels bad I'm sure she's moved on and I see she's married to someone else. But if truth be told, without the B connection, we had nothing. I didn't even like her when I first met her. I'm sure that if I give it time, she'll end up friending someone I know and we'll connect that way, or heck, I may change my mind. It's been known to happen ;)
Its almost 4AM, and I am winding down, so while I don't want to leave you on this note, if I don't hit "publish" I will slip into the abyss again :) I miss you all, and promise I'll be back soon for more!!!
Monday, September 15, 2008
9021-NOOOOOO!!!!!
I'm a little behind on a lot of things lately, and TV has been one of them. So finally home from my vacation I'm catching up on the TiVo'ed shows from the past two weeks. (Yay! Gossip Girl!) And one of the guilty pleasures that I was looking forward to was the reincarnation of 90210. One of my favorite shows from the past, one that defined a generation. MY generation. I watched it off and on through the years, related to the melodrama of it all, from the hot summer of Dylan and Kelly to the yawn worthy Steve and Janet years, I wanted Donna Martin to graduate and even rooted for Valerie at times. I was a little leery, as the remakes are hardly as awesome as the original. Still I hit record, figuring I'd give it a shot in it's premiere.
I ate it up. The whole bringing back old characters (Hanna Zuckerman-Vasquez! Brilliant!!!) the tounge in cheek of it all. Linking the new prinicpal to Kelly, so much fun! The first hour was all that and more, like a high school reunion with everyone and their wives and children!
And then.......
The adoption plot.
No, not the one I saw coming, the one where the main character is a foster adopt and it's an underlying issue. I was cool with that.
I'm talking about the one where the main character's father, Harry, the one who is the link between the present day plot and the past, is confronted by his ex girlfriend, who has done nothing but play bitchy Beverly Hills parent and throw in his face that they could be talking about THEIR child, only for her to blurt out right at the hour mark that no, she didn't go to the clinic 20 years ago like he thought, she was sent away to have their son and put him up for adoption.
Come on. Really? Did you have to throw me back there? I was having all sorts of fun remembering the parts of the 90's that didn't center around adoption (the few parts that were left) and you felt some drama was lacking so you decided to have the old "high school lovers face their sordid past with the adoption card" theme? Great, now I get to see how that dynamic plays out.
And it gets better in hour 2, when he tells his wife that he isn't sure what to do about his ex that keps calling, and yeah, he wonders how his son is doing, but being an adoptive dad himself, he certainly understood, and he certainly didn't want his son's birthparents in their lives. Because OMG, their presence would so undermine their perfect new life in Beverly Hills! Who would want to deal with that???And I get this really funny feeling that the dad here is going to be portrayed as the loving doting stable guy, (since he was all "I was not a nice guy when I was in high school but I've so changed and I'm a great person now with my hot wife and adoreable kids) and the ex/birthmom is going to be the drunken stalker-y live in the past bent for revenge psycho.
Oh, and the TV commercial for the new show "The Locator" on the WE channel doesn't help either.
I'm on the fence about whether to watch episode 2.
On a better note, I got way cooler things to share with all of you :) Which I'm working on as we speak
Stay tuned :)
I ate it up. The whole bringing back old characters (Hanna Zuckerman-Vasquez! Brilliant!!!) the tounge in cheek of it all. Linking the new prinicpal to Kelly, so much fun! The first hour was all that and more, like a high school reunion with everyone and their wives and children!
And then.......
The adoption plot.
No, not the one I saw coming, the one where the main character is a foster adopt and it's an underlying issue. I was cool with that.
I'm talking about the one where the main character's father, Harry, the one who is the link between the present day plot and the past, is confronted by his ex girlfriend, who has done nothing but play bitchy Beverly Hills parent and throw in his face that they could be talking about THEIR child, only for her to blurt out right at the hour mark that no, she didn't go to the clinic 20 years ago like he thought, she was sent away to have their son and put him up for adoption.
Come on. Really? Did you have to throw me back there? I was having all sorts of fun remembering the parts of the 90's that didn't center around adoption (the few parts that were left) and you felt some drama was lacking so you decided to have the old "high school lovers face their sordid past with the adoption card" theme? Great, now I get to see how that dynamic plays out.
And it gets better in hour 2, when he tells his wife that he isn't sure what to do about his ex that keps calling, and yeah, he wonders how his son is doing, but being an adoptive dad himself, he certainly understood, and he certainly didn't want his son's birthparents in their lives. Because OMG, their presence would so undermine their perfect new life in Beverly Hills! Who would want to deal with that???And I get this really funny feeling that the dad here is going to be portrayed as the loving doting stable guy, (since he was all "I was not a nice guy when I was in high school but I've so changed and I'm a great person now with my hot wife and adoreable kids) and the ex/birthmom is going to be the drunken stalker-y live in the past bent for revenge psycho.
Oh, and the TV commercial for the new show "The Locator" on the WE channel doesn't help either.
I'm on the fence about whether to watch episode 2.
On a better note, I got way cooler things to share with all of you :) Which I'm working on as we speak
Stay tuned :)
Thursday, September 4, 2008
Like Mother, Like Daughter
I recently celebrated my first wedding anniversary. My best friend N wrote me a quick note on Facebook acknowledging the day. When I called her later, she asked if we were going to be "making babies tonight."
I cut her off with a quick but firm "NO!" and changed the subject.
First of all the phrase "making babies" makes me gag. Always has. ("making whoopie" and "making doody" aren't big faves of mine either) Doesn't help that AM has told me that "me and B made a wonderful baby." Like I'm a factory or something. Blech.
We are now up to 7 on the pregnancy tally, as aside from the 4 in my office, 3 people in my personal life have announced pregnancies as well. It's begun to permeate my thoughts as it is. I dream about being pregnant at least 3 times a week. I've become aware of my cycle, I have a visit with a new gyno in a few weeks, and I've come to realize that I'm ready to be an everyday mom. I want to be an everyday mom. Like, now.
I just can't talk about it. I can't break out of that habit of pretending that I'm not interested in rushing into starting a family. That I'm not supposed to be thinking about motherhood. Most people know that I'm getting there, and I'm OK if I bring it up myself. It's such a personal thing to me, it's like I have to be the one to initiate it. I have to feel safe, and strangely enough it's with people I'm not tremendously close with that I am OK with. It's with the people I'm closest to, N, my siblings, and definitely my mom that I can't have that conversation with. I feel pressured, my head starts to spin, my breath catches. I just get so emotionally overwhelmed that all I can do is say "NO! I don't want to talk about it." and pray it gets dropped. Let me talk about it when I am ready.
The other day, as I hung up the phone, I wondered why those things affect me so much. It's then that it dawns on me that I react a lot like I'm told M when the subject of me is brought up to her.
Like mother, like daughter.
I cut her off with a quick but firm "NO!" and changed the subject.
First of all the phrase "making babies" makes me gag. Always has. ("making whoopie" and "making doody" aren't big faves of mine either) Doesn't help that AM has told me that "me and B made a wonderful baby." Like I'm a factory or something. Blech.
We are now up to 7 on the pregnancy tally, as aside from the 4 in my office, 3 people in my personal life have announced pregnancies as well. It's begun to permeate my thoughts as it is. I dream about being pregnant at least 3 times a week. I've become aware of my cycle, I have a visit with a new gyno in a few weeks, and I've come to realize that I'm ready to be an everyday mom. I want to be an everyday mom. Like, now.
I just can't talk about it. I can't break out of that habit of pretending that I'm not interested in rushing into starting a family. That I'm not supposed to be thinking about motherhood. Most people know that I'm getting there, and I'm OK if I bring it up myself. It's such a personal thing to me, it's like I have to be the one to initiate it. I have to feel safe, and strangely enough it's with people I'm not tremendously close with that I am OK with. It's with the people I'm closest to, N, my siblings, and definitely my mom that I can't have that conversation with. I feel pressured, my head starts to spin, my breath catches. I just get so emotionally overwhelmed that all I can do is say "NO! I don't want to talk about it." and pray it gets dropped. Let me talk about it when I am ready.
The other day, as I hung up the phone, I wondered why those things affect me so much. It's then that it dawns on me that I react a lot like I'm told M when the subject of me is brought up to her.
Like mother, like daughter.
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
It's been THAT Long?
I've been meaning to write, really I have. I walk around with tons of blog ideas, talk with cyber friends about blog ideas, start to write blog ideas, and I never finish them. It's just too busy right now, the end of summer, weddings, road trips, last weekend was the first weekend I had with NO plans in 8 consecutive weeks, and I still had a million things to do. It doesn't end! My next free weekend is the first week of October. Book now, my friends, it's filling up!
I know it's a shoddy excuse. Forgive me, please, life away from adoption has been pretty stress free!
It's been almost a month since I heard from AM. Never got her update or her pics. I thought I'd cut her some slack since it was back to school time, but it was just my way of coping with the fact that I knew she never would. M is a junior in high school this year. That is crazy.
I quit the forums cold turkey. Just got tired of defending myself, my others and my point of view. Tired of telling people that adoption is not one size fits all and one bad apple doesn't spoil the bunch. Tired of the entitlement, the selfishness, the general lack of compassion. I was getting too wrapped up in it. I went on for a mo this weekend, and one thread in I got off. It just became a pissing contest of who's pain was greater and who's bond was deeper. Jesus its a child, not a Coach bag.
I am off on vacation next week, and I have a lot of blogs to write, I have flashbacks and adoption thoughts and I never told you about my summer through the eyes of a 16 year old! And fair warning, this is not a Sarah Palin for VP zone! In the interim, I'll leave you with a link to an oldie that I was reading over on my bestie TG's blog. (who I will FINALLY get to see in just 5 short days!!! YAY!!) It hit how true these words are still to this day, but how far she's come in her journey in just a short year. Makes me believe anything is possible.
Talk to you soon!
I know it's a shoddy excuse. Forgive me, please, life away from adoption has been pretty stress free!
It's been almost a month since I heard from AM. Never got her update or her pics. I thought I'd cut her some slack since it was back to school time, but it was just my way of coping with the fact that I knew she never would. M is a junior in high school this year. That is crazy.
I quit the forums cold turkey. Just got tired of defending myself, my others and my point of view. Tired of telling people that adoption is not one size fits all and one bad apple doesn't spoil the bunch. Tired of the entitlement, the selfishness, the general lack of compassion. I was getting too wrapped up in it. I went on for a mo this weekend, and one thread in I got off. It just became a pissing contest of who's pain was greater and who's bond was deeper. Jesus its a child, not a Coach bag.
I am off on vacation next week, and I have a lot of blogs to write, I have flashbacks and adoption thoughts and I never told you about my summer through the eyes of a 16 year old! And fair warning, this is not a Sarah Palin for VP zone! In the interim, I'll leave you with a link to an oldie that I was reading over on my bestie TG's blog. (who I will FINALLY get to see in just 5 short days!!! YAY!!) It hit how true these words are still to this day, but how far she's come in her journey in just a short year. Makes me believe anything is possible.
Talk to you soon!
Sunday, August 17, 2008
Blast From The Past
I have continued on with my Facebook addiction, which is now full blown in the sense that I have collected an obscene amount of friends, and it is the one site on my list of most visited webpages that is adoption free. It's a welcome respite from the blogs, and the e-mails and the other things I do online that seem to be adoption centered. I need a place where I can stop being a birthmom and be the girl from the neighborhood that people remember from high school, or sports teams or college. I don't have to talk about M (tho my friends from college know about her, aside from a brief e-mail update acknowledging that I keep in contact, she doesn't come up) I don't have to watch what my friends comment on or worry about what I put up there in case AM stumbles up on it. It's really the only place I can be in touch with me, and forget I'm a birthmom for a moment.
I also get a kick out of it because it seems word has caught on, and all sorts of old classmates are joining up, making it a virtual class reunion. A few people dragged out yearbooks and posted old elementary school pics (the HAIR!) and it turns out that some of those who have moved far are coming into the area soon, so we are all planning a get together over the next few weeks. It seems every day a new classmate joins up, and within days, everyone's added them, suggested that others add them, and gotten back in touch. My best friend N and I are on the phone daily like little kids, talking about who we found and who's heard from who.
Today I went on, and checked the class list, and I see the newest addition to our reunion is D, B's best friend. My first instinct was "No effing WAY!!!" D is awesome, one of those guys in high school who was good looking, smart, athletic and popular. Every girl in school had the hugest crush on him in junior high, all the popular princesses scribbled his name in notebooks and on desks and prayed he would notice them. He had every right to be an arrogant ass, but he wasn't. He seemed completely oblivious to the big deal the girls made over him. He was quiet, not tremendously outgoing , but never nasty or mean. I had never really known him, never really had a reason to until I started to get to know B. But once I did, I could understand what the big deal was. He was just a nice guy, plain and simple.
D and B had known eachother and been friends since they were kids. They were inseperable for the most part when I had come into the picture. I know D was the one who had introduced B to the crowd of all my guy friends in high school, and it wasn't long after that happened that B and I began dating. D started dating my friend P at the same time, and soon after, the four of us became a group. We hung out together all the time, weekend after weekend it was the same thing, B and D would pick me up and we'd go to P's. We'd go to the movies, shoot pool, bowl, play board games. We had funny inside jokes and secret code words and favorite songs. No one ever fought, there was no drama, just good times. Until D decided to ask P to officially be his girlfriend, and a week later, B decided we were over.
I remember the first weekend after B dumped me, I was lost. In a way, we all were, including D and P. I missed them, knowing that they were at P's house without me, and P had said it was weird for the first few weekends with it being the two of them. D had asked a few of his other friends to hang out with their girlfriends, but P said it wasn't the same. The four of us had clicked together, and the others felt like stand ins, she didn't like the other girlfriends as much. The games weren't as competitive, the jokes just not as funny. A few times, P and D had convinced me to come over and D would invite one of his single friends over too, but again, it wasn't the same. It wasn't us.
When B and I had gotten back together for a time, we had gone out once or twice with D and P. We had fun, but the dynamic had changed. They were a bonafide couple, and B had a wall up with me, afraid that if things went back the way that they were, we would eventually head down that path too. B had shied away from hanging out with them too often, he didn't want me to get the impression that he was looking to build on a relationship, and it was obvious to everyone. Eventually, I remember D and B drifting apart a bit since they were in different places, B wanted to be single and hang with the guys, who were out causing trouble, and D wanted to hang low and be with P. B never brought other girls around them, knowing P would never allow it. They were never the best of friends, I don't think B ever really liked P outside of our group, and P made no bones about the fact that her loyalties rested with me. I think B had blamed P for driving a small wedge in his friendship with D, once he started to choose plans with P over going out with him and the boys.
From my standpoint, I think the choice was not P over B, but that D chose the life of a boyfriend over the life of being one of the boys. There was a disconnect over the way B had changed at that point, sowing his oats and fighting and sneaking into bars. It was around this time that I had gotten pregnant. The night that B had "disappeared" the night before I had an appointment to terminate, I had gone to P's house to see if D knew where he was. I remember sitting at P's table, and D admitting that they hadn't spoken, but that he wasn't all that happy with B and how he had changed. He offered to help me, and square it away with B later, but he wasn't sure he could get by with he had come up with for college. I realized then how much of a nice guy he was, trying to help me out and stand up for his friend that he really shouldn't have had to stand up for. I always remembered that.
I can't remember the last time I saw D. I know that I had seen him at P's house the summer after I placed. He knows about M, one of the few of B's friends that had been told the truth about what had really happened after I left for college. I know that he and B had pretty much stopped speaking to eachother. I can't say for sure why, maybe it was B's behavior that pissed D off, maybe it was B and how he essentially seperated himself from everyone from high school after a few years. I don't remember B ever bringing him up beyond that summer that we graduated. He and P had dated for several years, but I had lost touch with both of them after I too had gone a different path. He never hung out in the local bars or went to our high school reunion. I heard through the grapevine that he was married with kids and from those who ran into him, he looked REALLY good. I always wondered what happened to him, always wished him well, and hoped I would run into him one day. Every so often, I'll hear one of the songs we sang or hear a word that was code for something we came up with, and think of D instead of B, wanting to keep that memory positive.
But tonight, as I stared at his name and hovered over the "add friend" link, I couldn't quite do it. In fact, I kind of freaked. It's not like I don't have a few friends on there that know about M, and it's not that I don't have friends on there that weren't part of the group that hung out with B. And to be honest, I doubt B and D speak even to this day. It's bound to happen anyway, once Facebook sucks him into it's vortex, I'd be surprised if we didn't end up adding eachother. If D brings B up, I'd be OK with it. I'd almost expect it. Maybe it's because every memory I have of D is wrapped up in my early relationship with B, back when things were good and fun and innocent. All the other people I know are connected to me through elementary school, or other friends. B is the reason that D and I knew eachother, he was B's best friend. It would be hard not to reminisce, and not want B to be there somehow to tell "Hey! Guess who I just talked to!" because he is one of the only other people who would get it. Or have D bring up some awesome story, only for it to remind me that once upon a time, all of us were so close, and such a big part of eachother's social lives during the glory days of yore. And I can't talk to B, and I don't really want to. But it's just one more reminder of the fractured relationship that exists, one more thing that I can't share because of stupid grudges that I don't understand. And if this Facebook phenomenon continues, it's a reminder that B might not be far behind.
I also get a kick out of it because it seems word has caught on, and all sorts of old classmates are joining up, making it a virtual class reunion. A few people dragged out yearbooks and posted old elementary school pics (the HAIR!) and it turns out that some of those who have moved far are coming into the area soon, so we are all planning a get together over the next few weeks. It seems every day a new classmate joins up, and within days, everyone's added them, suggested that others add them, and gotten back in touch. My best friend N and I are on the phone daily like little kids, talking about who we found and who's heard from who.
Today I went on, and checked the class list, and I see the newest addition to our reunion is D, B's best friend. My first instinct was "No effing WAY!!!" D is awesome, one of those guys in high school who was good looking, smart, athletic and popular. Every girl in school had the hugest crush on him in junior high, all the popular princesses scribbled his name in notebooks and on desks and prayed he would notice them. He had every right to be an arrogant ass, but he wasn't. He seemed completely oblivious to the big deal the girls made over him. He was quiet, not tremendously outgoing , but never nasty or mean. I had never really known him, never really had a reason to until I started to get to know B. But once I did, I could understand what the big deal was. He was just a nice guy, plain and simple.
D and B had known eachother and been friends since they were kids. They were inseperable for the most part when I had come into the picture. I know D was the one who had introduced B to the crowd of all my guy friends in high school, and it wasn't long after that happened that B and I began dating. D started dating my friend P at the same time, and soon after, the four of us became a group. We hung out together all the time, weekend after weekend it was the same thing, B and D would pick me up and we'd go to P's. We'd go to the movies, shoot pool, bowl, play board games. We had funny inside jokes and secret code words and favorite songs. No one ever fought, there was no drama, just good times. Until D decided to ask P to officially be his girlfriend, and a week later, B decided we were over.
I remember the first weekend after B dumped me, I was lost. In a way, we all were, including D and P. I missed them, knowing that they were at P's house without me, and P had said it was weird for the first few weekends with it being the two of them. D had asked a few of his other friends to hang out with their girlfriends, but P said it wasn't the same. The four of us had clicked together, and the others felt like stand ins, she didn't like the other girlfriends as much. The games weren't as competitive, the jokes just not as funny. A few times, P and D had convinced me to come over and D would invite one of his single friends over too, but again, it wasn't the same. It wasn't us.
When B and I had gotten back together for a time, we had gone out once or twice with D and P. We had fun, but the dynamic had changed. They were a bonafide couple, and B had a wall up with me, afraid that if things went back the way that they were, we would eventually head down that path too. B had shied away from hanging out with them too often, he didn't want me to get the impression that he was looking to build on a relationship, and it was obvious to everyone. Eventually, I remember D and B drifting apart a bit since they were in different places, B wanted to be single and hang with the guys, who were out causing trouble, and D wanted to hang low and be with P. B never brought other girls around them, knowing P would never allow it. They were never the best of friends, I don't think B ever really liked P outside of our group, and P made no bones about the fact that her loyalties rested with me. I think B had blamed P for driving a small wedge in his friendship with D, once he started to choose plans with P over going out with him and the boys.
From my standpoint, I think the choice was not P over B, but that D chose the life of a boyfriend over the life of being one of the boys. There was a disconnect over the way B had changed at that point, sowing his oats and fighting and sneaking into bars. It was around this time that I had gotten pregnant. The night that B had "disappeared" the night before I had an appointment to terminate, I had gone to P's house to see if D knew where he was. I remember sitting at P's table, and D admitting that they hadn't spoken, but that he wasn't all that happy with B and how he had changed. He offered to help me, and square it away with B later, but he wasn't sure he could get by with he had come up with for college. I realized then how much of a nice guy he was, trying to help me out and stand up for his friend that he really shouldn't have had to stand up for. I always remembered that.
I can't remember the last time I saw D. I know that I had seen him at P's house the summer after I placed. He knows about M, one of the few of B's friends that had been told the truth about what had really happened after I left for college. I know that he and B had pretty much stopped speaking to eachother. I can't say for sure why, maybe it was B's behavior that pissed D off, maybe it was B and how he essentially seperated himself from everyone from high school after a few years. I don't remember B ever bringing him up beyond that summer that we graduated. He and P had dated for several years, but I had lost touch with both of them after I too had gone a different path. He never hung out in the local bars or went to our high school reunion. I heard through the grapevine that he was married with kids and from those who ran into him, he looked REALLY good. I always wondered what happened to him, always wished him well, and hoped I would run into him one day. Every so often, I'll hear one of the songs we sang or hear a word that was code for something we came up with, and think of D instead of B, wanting to keep that memory positive.
But tonight, as I stared at his name and hovered over the "add friend" link, I couldn't quite do it. In fact, I kind of freaked. It's not like I don't have a few friends on there that know about M, and it's not that I don't have friends on there that weren't part of the group that hung out with B. And to be honest, I doubt B and D speak even to this day. It's bound to happen anyway, once Facebook sucks him into it's vortex, I'd be surprised if we didn't end up adding eachother. If D brings B up, I'd be OK with it. I'd almost expect it. Maybe it's because every memory I have of D is wrapped up in my early relationship with B, back when things were good and fun and innocent. All the other people I know are connected to me through elementary school, or other friends. B is the reason that D and I knew eachother, he was B's best friend. It would be hard not to reminisce, and not want B to be there somehow to tell "Hey! Guess who I just talked to!" because he is one of the only other people who would get it. Or have D bring up some awesome story, only for it to remind me that once upon a time, all of us were so close, and such a big part of eachother's social lives during the glory days of yore. And I can't talk to B, and I don't really want to. But it's just one more reminder of the fractured relationship that exists, one more thing that I can't share because of stupid grudges that I don't understand. And if this Facebook phenomenon continues, it's a reminder that B might not be far behind.
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Not Applicable
I work in the health care field, and have access to people’s medical records as part of my job. I was working on a file and happened to see the last note under history:
“Patient is adopted, therefore no medical history is available”
It made me sad. I mean, the person in question was a minor, didn’t the agency or what have you send some kind of medical history to the adoptive parents? I really don’t know how that works. I know that AM got a copy of me and B’s medical history, and we were in a private domestic adoption. I have worked with this file before, and was surprised I never noticed that the patient was adopted, so I looked to see what was written on the intake sheet. The patient’s mom filled out most of it, correlating to the patient’s history to date. But when it came to her family history, there was a dark, big, careless slash mark through it.
It bothered me. It bothered me that instead of writing “adopted” over that section, that a big slash was there in its place. As in “not applicable” or “not important”. I know it’s quite possible that the information is unknown. But is it true that the adoptive parents in a closed adoption don’t learn how many bio sibs there are? Or the ages of the birthparents? Is there any ID info to give at all? I mean, granted that the mother didn’t put her own history as substitute for her child’s, but isn't there anything to share?
It made me think of the countless times AM had to fill out these forms for M. Is she unknown too? Is her family history one big slashmark? It shouldn’t be, B and I were always known, always findable if there were any questions. Yet, years ago there was an issue where my history would have been helpful to M, no one came to look for me. I’ve updated my medical history for AM, without being asked, but she’s never asked questions, or expressed gratitude for doing so. It makes me wonder that after surviving all those years closed, if AM feels that it’s information she doesn’t need. Like "not important" And it kinda pisses me off, how many adoptees would LOVE to have their medical info, and here’s M, with the opportunity to have both sides of her medicals, to not be a slashmark anymore, and I have the funny feeling she is.
This is why I’ll always keep an eye out for open records laws, why even though I have access through AM, I will still register when she turns 18, just in case something should happen, she can know where to find me, and get her information if she wants it on her own, without having a third party gatekeep it for her. I don’t want her to be a slashmark anymore.
“Patient is adopted, therefore no medical history is available”
It made me sad. I mean, the person in question was a minor, didn’t the agency or what have you send some kind of medical history to the adoptive parents? I really don’t know how that works. I know that AM got a copy of me and B’s medical history, and we were in a private domestic adoption. I have worked with this file before, and was surprised I never noticed that the patient was adopted, so I looked to see what was written on the intake sheet. The patient’s mom filled out most of it, correlating to the patient’s history to date. But when it came to her family history, there was a dark, big, careless slash mark through it.
It bothered me. It bothered me that instead of writing “adopted” over that section, that a big slash was there in its place. As in “not applicable” or “not important”. I know it’s quite possible that the information is unknown. But is it true that the adoptive parents in a closed adoption don’t learn how many bio sibs there are? Or the ages of the birthparents? Is there any ID info to give at all? I mean, granted that the mother didn’t put her own history as substitute for her child’s, but isn't there anything to share?
It made me think of the countless times AM had to fill out these forms for M. Is she unknown too? Is her family history one big slashmark? It shouldn’t be, B and I were always known, always findable if there were any questions. Yet, years ago there was an issue where my history would have been helpful to M, no one came to look for me. I’ve updated my medical history for AM, without being asked, but she’s never asked questions, or expressed gratitude for doing so. It makes me wonder that after surviving all those years closed, if AM feels that it’s information she doesn’t need. Like "not important" And it kinda pisses me off, how many adoptees would LOVE to have their medical info, and here’s M, with the opportunity to have both sides of her medicals, to not be a slashmark anymore, and I have the funny feeling she is.
This is why I’ll always keep an eye out for open records laws, why even though I have access through AM, I will still register when she turns 18, just in case something should happen, she can know where to find me, and get her information if she wants it on her own, without having a third party gatekeep it for her. I don’t want her to be a slashmark anymore.
Sunday, August 10, 2008
Do As I Say...
I have a confession to make.
I'm a hypocrite.
Throughout this whole blog, all I've preached is common courtesy. How when someone writes you, it's proper etiquette to respond in a timely manner. To be honest, just let someone know where you stand. It's the decent thing to do.
Well, for the past week I've been avoiding my inbox on myspace, heck I've been avoiding myspace all together, because in there sits a message I do NOT want to deal with. My ex boyfriend BC2 (the one I mentioned HERE, note comments!) has found me and decided that he would request me as a friend. And write me a message. And look for me on Classmates. And message me there too.
Cause once was not enough.
I just can't bring myself to open it. It's a can of worms best left closed. I know this, he should know this. But I'm sure that he got all excited and what-have-you and feels it's important to reconnect. I mean, he was my first friend before he was anything else. I just can't figure out why now, when I know he's been on myspace for the two years I've been on (yes, I looked for him. No, it wasn't to reconnect, I literally put in every name of every ex boyfriend, just to keep myself informed) and why it necessitates leaving word EVERYWHERE for me. God only knows with this one.
But now here's the kicker, I told AM that I was going to upload pics on my profile for her to check out. I also have to re-request her as my friend (and yes, she has been on, so she knows I'm not on her page anymore) and here in lies the whole karma bit. He'll know I blew him off because he logs in and checks my page for my last log in. So if I log in, upload my pics and request AM and ignore him, you know I've invited some "goes around comes around" business with the Response Gods (whom have been quite good to me lately) . Plus he's liable to show up at my parents' house even though he lived like 6 hours away. If I read the e-mail but don't respond, I think I've invited him to stalk me, he's not the brightest bulb on the Christmas tree, he's not one for hints, veiled or otherwise. And if I go ahead and accept his request and read his e-mail and respond with a polite "Hi thanks, I'm married, hope all is well!", does that invite future stalking? Now he gets to see all that's cool in Brownland, because I am now updating my profile for AM.
I don't want to share Brownland with him. I want him to be normal and go away and not look to reconnect with the girl you pseudo long distance dated twenty years ago. I'm not the girl that got away. I walked away. I didn't want to save you from your bad marriage, I wanted you to grow a pair, be a man, and be my best friend. Like the night we played pool and B was there on his date, and I was clearly rattled and you helped me keep it together, but didn't know why.
Ladies and gents, this is why you don't poop where you eat.
Blech.
I'm a hypocrite.
Throughout this whole blog, all I've preached is common courtesy. How when someone writes you, it's proper etiquette to respond in a timely manner. To be honest, just let someone know where you stand. It's the decent thing to do.
Well, for the past week I've been avoiding my inbox on myspace, heck I've been avoiding myspace all together, because in there sits a message I do NOT want to deal with. My ex boyfriend BC2 (the one I mentioned HERE, note comments!) has found me and decided that he would request me as a friend. And write me a message. And look for me on Classmates. And message me there too.
Cause once was not enough.
I just can't bring myself to open it. It's a can of worms best left closed. I know this, he should know this. But I'm sure that he got all excited and what-have-you and feels it's important to reconnect. I mean, he was my first friend before he was anything else. I just can't figure out why now, when I know he's been on myspace for the two years I've been on (yes, I looked for him. No, it wasn't to reconnect, I literally put in every name of every ex boyfriend, just to keep myself informed) and why it necessitates leaving word EVERYWHERE for me. God only knows with this one.
But now here's the kicker, I told AM that I was going to upload pics on my profile for her to check out. I also have to re-request her as my friend (and yes, she has been on, so she knows I'm not on her page anymore) and here in lies the whole karma bit. He'll know I blew him off because he logs in and checks my page for my last log in. So if I log in, upload my pics and request AM and ignore him, you know I've invited some "goes around comes around" business with the Response Gods (whom have been quite good to me lately) . Plus he's liable to show up at my parents' house even though he lived like 6 hours away. If I read the e-mail but don't respond, I think I've invited him to stalk me, he's not the brightest bulb on the Christmas tree, he's not one for hints, veiled or otherwise. And if I go ahead and accept his request and read his e-mail and respond with a polite "Hi thanks, I'm married, hope all is well!", does that invite future stalking? Now he gets to see all that's cool in Brownland, because I am now updating my profile for AM.
I don't want to share Brownland with him. I want him to be normal and go away and not look to reconnect with the girl you pseudo long distance dated twenty years ago. I'm not the girl that got away. I walked away. I didn't want to save you from your bad marriage, I wanted you to grow a pair, be a man, and be my best friend. Like the night we played pool and B was there on his date, and I was clearly rattled and you helped me keep it together, but didn't know why.
Ladies and gents, this is why you don't poop where you eat.
Blech.
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
The Baby Boom
I work in a medium sized office, about sixty people, mostly women. At any given time, there is at least one woman pregnant. This never really bothered me, until last year after I got married, baby was not on my brain. I was not in a place in my life where a child was part of the plan.
There are currently FOUR women in my office who are pregnant, one who is due in December, and three who just announced and are due in February within weeks of eachother. Only one of them was on the radar so to speak as someone who was trying. I can think of two other women who I expect to announce soon since they are actively trying, and one more who hinted she will know in a few weeks if she is with child.
That would be seven. Off the top of my head, most of the women left are either well past child bearing age, have officially "closed shop" or are very young (still in their teens/early twenties)
Oy the pressure.
My office manager actually came in my cubicle and said "If you have something to tell me, please tell me now!" I looked at her and said "Um, no........"
I thought about what it would be like if I couldn't have children. And who's to say I can? Just because I gave birth when I was 18, doesn't mean I can have more children. I haven't really tried. I know one girl who is trying is doing in vitro. She is desperate for a child. It can't be easy for her. Sometimes when I hear "You're next!" I want to tell them "No I'm not!!!!" all singsongy back. I'm still in the final stages of processing things so I can go into a pregnancy with healthy mind. I'm pretty much there. It's taken a lot for me to let go of the fear I had that I wouldn't be a good mom, or that I was having my baby at the wrong time. It's only been the past few months that the thought of pregnancy and birth does not completely trigger me or flip me out.
But geez, maybe I have my reasons for not jumping on the baby bandwagon so quick!
The biggest surprise for me was the girl who was most likely to announce her pregnancy. R and I are friends outside the office. We live within 2 miles of eachother, and carpool often. She and I have birthdays within 2 days of eachother that we celebrated with martini's She came to my bachelorette party, the only one outside of my inner circle to do so. She is the only one at my office that knows about M. I blurted it out one night on the ride home when I was having issues last fall about the wedding pics. In the "Holy Shit It's A Small World!" category, I had found out that she knew B 13 years ago when they went to the same college. In fact, he would at one point dump me to date her close friend. She has pics of him from a night they were snowed in and hanging out at the dorm, a night I would have been hanging out with her had the blizzard not happened. When I told her, R didn't freak out, and she actually would ask from time to time about M.
R got married in May of last year, and I in September. So last year, our conversations revolved around bitching and whining over wedding plans. Since then, we have often discussed starting a family. R, being a year older, felt her clock ticking louder than I did, plus she already had a house, where as I was more concerned about outgrowing my tiny apartment. But we plotted and planned our "talks" with our husbands, and I reassured her that pregancy was no big deal to go through.
I noticed R distancing herself a few months ago. We hadn't carpooled on a regular basis in a while since our hours were different, and my work load had decreased to the point that I was finding it hard to stay for 2 extra hours. But when I asked her to carpool on the other days, she always had an excuse (haircut, dinner with friends, running errands, etc) She was constantly in the cubicle next to me talking to the new mom who had given birth on M's birthday. If I came over to chat, conversation stopped. She always seemed annoyed that I came over, when before she would just chit chat like I wasn't a factor. She avoided me in the hall. She was vague when I tried to make plans to get together for dinner. I sort of knew, but I wasn't going to spill. I know I would wait as long as I could to tell people to avoid attention. But I'd still spill to R. She was different.
Probably the biggest clue that she was expecting was last month's Gay Book Club Meeting. (About a year ago, R talked me into joining the book club that she wanted to start with her close friends. I told her as long as we weren't reading Oprah's pretentious Book Club books, I'd be OK. Ha. The books for the most part are gay, but the company is great. Hence the Gay Book Club) When I walked in sort of late to a girl's house I barely knew, it was clear I had interrupted something. People scattered. R spent most of the night having private conversations and sipping water, a HUGE deal since R always drank wine. She was rubbing her belly. She avoided any attempt I made at conversation. I was stuck making really awkward conversation with people I didn't know all that well, people who had always been very friendly prior, but who clearly wanted to be in the private conversation and not stuck with R's work friend. You know when you start to hang out with a new group, and some times you click and sometimes you don't? Well, I had thought we were clicking. But as I fumbled through conversation, I could see that there was something I didn't know. I felt like I was back in seventh grade. I left that night thinking I didn't fit in and I was going to quit Gay Book Club. I did notice after I got in my car and drove off, there was a circle of women, including R, hanging out talking by their cars. And it clicked that she was pregnant, and didn't want me to know.
Yesterday, it became public knowledge in my office. R and I actually had a real converstation just an hour before, so when my office manager spilled to my boss in front of me the news about her pregnancy, the look on my face said it all. I muttered to my OM "I don't think I'm supposed to know that yet" figuring that she was friends with R too, and might have told in front of me because she assumed I knew. She gave me a funny look and said "It's out." I'm gonna say it, I'm insulted. I think enough of you to spill my deepest secret, we've talked about this day coming for a year, and you can't tell me yourself? Maybe not early (which would have spared my ego during GBC) but I find out through the gossip mill? I really don't rate higher than that?
I said nothing, but the look on my face must have said a lot. And hour later I get an e-mail from R (who is essentially across the room) saying that she "can't eat ham sandwiches anymore" (an inside joke about the risks of cold cuts during pregnancy) I responded by telling her that I heard from when the OM told the boss, but that I kinda knew because "you can't bullshit a bullshitter :) And Congrats!" Yes I put the smilie there, to infer that I was clearly joking about having hid a pregnancy myself, I knew what to look for. She got all weird over it, telling me that she "didn't think she was trying to bullshit anyone, but she was keeping it under wraps, but her belly was starting to show so she had to tell :) "
Gee. Thanks. I'm on the had to tell list. The e-mail version.
Believe me I know it's a womans prerogative to tell whom she wants when she wants which is why I chose not to out her at GBC, or corner her in the hall at work when I suspected something was up. But hey, I shouldn't find out third party the same time as the summer temp help either. When you are right on the other side of the office. I would think that she would know that my birthmother status doesn't matter here, that I've watched enough of my friends get pregnant and have babies without exhibiting signs of jealousy or instability. Maybe I'm super sensitive to that. But I realize that it's been so long since we've chatted, she doesn't even know that I stopped using protection months ago. She was so guarded of her secret, she stopped any sort of communcation unless she had to. I've lost some friends that way too.
Today, an ex-coworker came in with her three month old. And all the new mommies and new mommies to be gathered around to coo and commiserate. I had been close to that girl too, so I was there, but the general consensus that I had nothing to contribute to the converstation. I was not in the "Mommie Club" And in the middle of the group was R, complaining to the girl due the week before her about how she just felt so awful today and she better start to feel better soon. Whispering about me to the new mom of four months because she turned and shot me daggers. I think she thinks I'm upset that she's pregnant or that she didn't tell me. I'm hurt that she thinks I'm on the C list and that I had to endure GBC the way I did. But I'm not not happy for her.
It wasn't the first time I felt like the outside looking in. But the last time, it was because I WAS pregnant. This time, it's because I'm not.
There are currently FOUR women in my office who are pregnant, one who is due in December, and three who just announced and are due in February within weeks of eachother. Only one of them was on the radar so to speak as someone who was trying. I can think of two other women who I expect to announce soon since they are actively trying, and one more who hinted she will know in a few weeks if she is with child.
That would be seven. Off the top of my head, most of the women left are either well past child bearing age, have officially "closed shop" or are very young (still in their teens/early twenties)
Oy the pressure.
My office manager actually came in my cubicle and said "If you have something to tell me, please tell me now!" I looked at her and said "Um, no........"
I thought about what it would be like if I couldn't have children. And who's to say I can? Just because I gave birth when I was 18, doesn't mean I can have more children. I haven't really tried. I know one girl who is trying is doing in vitro. She is desperate for a child. It can't be easy for her. Sometimes when I hear "You're next!" I want to tell them "No I'm not!!!!" all singsongy back. I'm still in the final stages of processing things so I can go into a pregnancy with healthy mind. I'm pretty much there. It's taken a lot for me to let go of the fear I had that I wouldn't be a good mom, or that I was having my baby at the wrong time. It's only been the past few months that the thought of pregnancy and birth does not completely trigger me or flip me out.
But geez, maybe I have my reasons for not jumping on the baby bandwagon so quick!
The biggest surprise for me was the girl who was most likely to announce her pregnancy. R and I are friends outside the office. We live within 2 miles of eachother, and carpool often. She and I have birthdays within 2 days of eachother that we celebrated with martini's She came to my bachelorette party, the only one outside of my inner circle to do so. She is the only one at my office that knows about M. I blurted it out one night on the ride home when I was having issues last fall about the wedding pics. In the "Holy Shit It's A Small World!" category, I had found out that she knew B 13 years ago when they went to the same college. In fact, he would at one point dump me to date her close friend. She has pics of him from a night they were snowed in and hanging out at the dorm, a night I would have been hanging out with her had the blizzard not happened. When I told her, R didn't freak out, and she actually would ask from time to time about M.
R got married in May of last year, and I in September. So last year, our conversations revolved around bitching and whining over wedding plans. Since then, we have often discussed starting a family. R, being a year older, felt her clock ticking louder than I did, plus she already had a house, where as I was more concerned about outgrowing my tiny apartment. But we plotted and planned our "talks" with our husbands, and I reassured her that pregancy was no big deal to go through.
I noticed R distancing herself a few months ago. We hadn't carpooled on a regular basis in a while since our hours were different, and my work load had decreased to the point that I was finding it hard to stay for 2 extra hours. But when I asked her to carpool on the other days, she always had an excuse (haircut, dinner with friends, running errands, etc) She was constantly in the cubicle next to me talking to the new mom who had given birth on M's birthday. If I came over to chat, conversation stopped. She always seemed annoyed that I came over, when before she would just chit chat like I wasn't a factor. She avoided me in the hall. She was vague when I tried to make plans to get together for dinner. I sort of knew, but I wasn't going to spill. I know I would wait as long as I could to tell people to avoid attention. But I'd still spill to R. She was different.
Probably the biggest clue that she was expecting was last month's Gay Book Club Meeting. (About a year ago, R talked me into joining the book club that she wanted to start with her close friends. I told her as long as we weren't reading Oprah's pretentious Book Club books, I'd be OK. Ha. The books for the most part are gay, but the company is great. Hence the Gay Book Club) When I walked in sort of late to a girl's house I barely knew, it was clear I had interrupted something. People scattered. R spent most of the night having private conversations and sipping water, a HUGE deal since R always drank wine. She was rubbing her belly. She avoided any attempt I made at conversation. I was stuck making really awkward conversation with people I didn't know all that well, people who had always been very friendly prior, but who clearly wanted to be in the private conversation and not stuck with R's work friend. You know when you start to hang out with a new group, and some times you click and sometimes you don't? Well, I had thought we were clicking. But as I fumbled through conversation, I could see that there was something I didn't know. I felt like I was back in seventh grade. I left that night thinking I didn't fit in and I was going to quit Gay Book Club. I did notice after I got in my car and drove off, there was a circle of women, including R, hanging out talking by their cars. And it clicked that she was pregnant, and didn't want me to know.
Yesterday, it became public knowledge in my office. R and I actually had a real converstation just an hour before, so when my office manager spilled to my boss in front of me the news about her pregnancy, the look on my face said it all. I muttered to my OM "I don't think I'm supposed to know that yet" figuring that she was friends with R too, and might have told in front of me because she assumed I knew. She gave me a funny look and said "It's out." I'm gonna say it, I'm insulted. I think enough of you to spill my deepest secret, we've talked about this day coming for a year, and you can't tell me yourself? Maybe not early (which would have spared my ego during GBC) but I find out through the gossip mill? I really don't rate higher than that?
I said nothing, but the look on my face must have said a lot. And hour later I get an e-mail from R (who is essentially across the room) saying that she "can't eat ham sandwiches anymore" (an inside joke about the risks of cold cuts during pregnancy) I responded by telling her that I heard from when the OM told the boss, but that I kinda knew because "you can't bullshit a bullshitter :) And Congrats!" Yes I put the smilie there, to infer that I was clearly joking about having hid a pregnancy myself, I knew what to look for. She got all weird over it, telling me that she "didn't think she was trying to bullshit anyone, but she was keeping it under wraps, but her belly was starting to show so she had to tell :) "
Gee. Thanks. I'm on the had to tell list. The e-mail version.
Believe me I know it's a womans prerogative to tell whom she wants when she wants which is why I chose not to out her at GBC, or corner her in the hall at work when I suspected something was up. But hey, I shouldn't find out third party the same time as the summer temp help either. When you are right on the other side of the office. I would think that she would know that my birthmother status doesn't matter here, that I've watched enough of my friends get pregnant and have babies without exhibiting signs of jealousy or instability. Maybe I'm super sensitive to that. But I realize that it's been so long since we've chatted, she doesn't even know that I stopped using protection months ago. She was so guarded of her secret, she stopped any sort of communcation unless she had to. I've lost some friends that way too.
Today, an ex-coworker came in with her three month old. And all the new mommies and new mommies to be gathered around to coo and commiserate. I had been close to that girl too, so I was there, but the general consensus that I had nothing to contribute to the converstation. I was not in the "Mommie Club" And in the middle of the group was R, complaining to the girl due the week before her about how she just felt so awful today and she better start to feel better soon. Whispering about me to the new mom of four months because she turned and shot me daggers. I think she thinks I'm upset that she's pregnant or that she didn't tell me. I'm hurt that she thinks I'm on the C list and that I had to endure GBC the way I did. But I'm not not happy for her.
It wasn't the first time I felt like the outside looking in. But the last time, it was because I WAS pregnant. This time, it's because I'm not.
Monday, August 4, 2008
All's Good in the Hood
After rewriting my last few posts, I realized how much I am struggling with things right now, though to be honest, I’m not sure with what. I tend to internalize and personalize things around me, and I’m not one who likes to let things happen to her, nor am I one who likes to be unhappy or conflicted. So I get on my soapbox, write out my problems here so I can LEAVE them here, and hopefully make sense of things.
I decided against writing B. To be honest, once I got it out in words and got people’s feedback on it, I worked out some things. I was insecure about my relationship with AM, and that caused me to want to write him, being that if I can’t “fix” the relationship with AM, maybe I can fix the one with B. And I realized I don’t want to fix it. It doesn’t mean that I won’t ever stop trying to, because I’m a fixer. I will always be like Corey, wanting to talk to Joe, even though he’s bad for her. But I will always listen to my friends, here and IRL, when they tell me “Don’t talk to Joe!” Beware, because I’m sure that wasn’t the last time I’ll ask you to tell me that!
What I did do was write AM. Even though it was earlier that I’d have liked, seeing that I wrote her at the end of last month and I try to space out my e-mails so I don’t overwhelm. As I’m sure you’ve all noticed I tend to overthink and plot and plan every word of every e-mail, carefully chose the right balance of updating her on my life, asking about her life, M’s life, her other children’s lives. Trying to sound reassuring of her role, but not too butt kissy. Encouraging a response, but trying not to sound too desperate. I can see some of you who are in similar situations nodding your heads. It’s like being 16 and trying to impress your new crush. The dancing around, the games, the overanalyzing with your friends.
Last week I said eff-it. I’ve been pretty solid emotionally about the relationship for the most part. I always get itchy around the three week to one month mark. Then I go back and forth and dissect until my head spins and I’m accused of being a train wreck. I saw all these things happening in other peoples adoption stories, and I needed to know that something like that would not happen to me. I never agonized, for once I e-mailed her like a normal person, no ulterior motives, nothing, just “Hi. How are you? I’m great, doing XYZ. What’s new. Write soon.” And I hit send and moved on with my life. Part of it was that I didn’t do it to garner a reponse, I just wanted to reach out and have contact. Part of it was also I didn’t expect a response since I had just gotten an update. But I got one anyway. And it was quick with promise of more, and I didn’t care if she followed up. I was just happy that she acknowledged the message. It was strange how easy it came to me this time. How relaxed I was. So last week, when my faith was questioned, it turned out that I had no need to worry. We were fine. And I’m encouraged that we will be. It’s only fair for me to document and celebrate my highs, for the same reason I write about the lows, so that when I need it, I can look back and learn.
See? I have a happy story for once, LOL!
I decided against writing B. To be honest, once I got it out in words and got people’s feedback on it, I worked out some things. I was insecure about my relationship with AM, and that caused me to want to write him, being that if I can’t “fix” the relationship with AM, maybe I can fix the one with B. And I realized I don’t want to fix it. It doesn’t mean that I won’t ever stop trying to, because I’m a fixer. I will always be like Corey, wanting to talk to Joe, even though he’s bad for her. But I will always listen to my friends, here and IRL, when they tell me “Don’t talk to Joe!” Beware, because I’m sure that wasn’t the last time I’ll ask you to tell me that!
What I did do was write AM. Even though it was earlier that I’d have liked, seeing that I wrote her at the end of last month and I try to space out my e-mails so I don’t overwhelm. As I’m sure you’ve all noticed I tend to overthink and plot and plan every word of every e-mail, carefully chose the right balance of updating her on my life, asking about her life, M’s life, her other children’s lives. Trying to sound reassuring of her role, but not too butt kissy. Encouraging a response, but trying not to sound too desperate. I can see some of you who are in similar situations nodding your heads. It’s like being 16 and trying to impress your new crush. The dancing around, the games, the overanalyzing with your friends.
Last week I said eff-it. I’ve been pretty solid emotionally about the relationship for the most part. I always get itchy around the three week to one month mark. Then I go back and forth and dissect until my head spins and I’m accused of being a train wreck. I saw all these things happening in other peoples adoption stories, and I needed to know that something like that would not happen to me. I never agonized, for once I e-mailed her like a normal person, no ulterior motives, nothing, just “Hi. How are you? I’m great, doing XYZ. What’s new. Write soon.” And I hit send and moved on with my life. Part of it was that I didn’t do it to garner a reponse, I just wanted to reach out and have contact. Part of it was also I didn’t expect a response since I had just gotten an update. But I got one anyway. And it was quick with promise of more, and I didn’t care if she followed up. I was just happy that she acknowledged the message. It was strange how easy it came to me this time. How relaxed I was. So last week, when my faith was questioned, it turned out that I had no need to worry. We were fine. And I’m encouraged that we will be. It’s only fair for me to document and celebrate my highs, for the same reason I write about the lows, so that when I need it, I can look back and learn.
See? I have a happy story for once, LOL!
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
And Another One Gone, Another One Gone......
This week I read two stories that have got me on the insecure and defensive again. One involved a birthmother whom after a year of a rocky relationship with her daughter's family, in which they had a third party come in and help mediate the issues in the OA, but in the end, the adoption closed down to semi open. Now, I'll admit I have one side of the story, but I can tell you since I've gotten to know this birthmother quite well over the two years I have sought internet support. And we bonded over the fact that we would do ANYTHING for the well being of our adoption relationships, but weren't feeling the same way in return. What hoops do you have to go through to make everything better? To seek counseling and mediation to be told at the end "Well, the answer here is that the a-parents are too busy, so if you want to see your child, you need to call and set it up."
WTF????? How is that a relationship? How do you, as third party, advise the conclusion that one party must do all the work because the other is, in essence, unwilling to go out of their way? And we are SURPRISED that this relationship ended this way a year later, AFTER the birthmother did just that, call for a visit (and no, not the next day, it was months later), a visit with a track record of about a 75% cancellation rate, since the adoptive parents have cancelled the morning of that often???? I'm not surprised. I'm disgusted.
The other story was about a birthmother who thought her daughter was dead. She got a letter a decade ago from the adoptive parents that her daughter had been killed in an accident. She mourned and lived through guilt, only to find it wasn't the truth, after her teen daughter sought her out for reunion. Her daughter was told that she would be supported by her parents if she wanted to search, but now that reunion is happening, she is caught in the middle of a pull by her adoptive parents, who claim that the letter is a lie. Here is a birthmother who didn't go searching, who never told her about the letter or the heartbreak to spare her feelings, who just wanted to forgive and forget and push everything aside to focus on the future, and I still see her trying her damndest to be gracious. And here's her daughter struggling to figure out who is lying, and who she should believe.
I want to know who's brilliant idea it was to have these people fake their daughter's death. You wrote a letter saying your daughter was dead. You went as far as to provide her pictures of funeral arrangement bouquets!!!!! What kind of sick lunatic DOES that????
I hate hearing these stories. I hate blogging about these stories. Because honestly I hate that it perpetuates the scared adoptive parent who only wants a baby and then runs and shuts the door when the adoption is final. Surely there are successful OA's out there? There HAVE to be adoptive parents who are able to keep their raw emotions in check, who had SOME idea that these feelings were going to surface once the child was being raised and have the good sense to deal with it privately and forge on for the sake of their child. Right? I know they are out there, and I am ever so grateful for their voice allowing people to see that you CAN have a sucessful OA. That is is possible to own your feelings and still honor your promises. But there aren't enough out there, because lately it seems every week I'm reading another story, another heartbroken tale from a birthmother who's world is crashing around them because their faith is rocked to the core.
Because I have such a hard time wrapping my head around WHY. And what it does is bring me from zero to insecure in 3 seconds flat. I am reminded how close I am to being on the other side of that line, of being the one who stands there in tears unable to comprehend what it was that I did or said to make things the way they are. Dissecting and overanalyzing every e-mail and every word, every action and every decision from the moment the child was conceived onward to figure out what I did wrong. What I did to deserve it. I hear "I'm busy" on a routine basis. I'm told that AM supports reunion, but what happens if when it comes she lashes out at M? I'm promised things I don't get. Heck, AM has NEVER followed through. EVER. Am I destined to the fate of my cyber pals?
What if I never followed through? What if I was the busy one? Would that go excused? No and it shouldn't. I should be held accountable too. I recently got into it with a forum member about OA agreements. And as sad as it is, if I had the option, I'd insist on one. Me, who thinks pre-nuptual agreements are conterproducive, because if you don't trust him enough not to take you to the cleaners, then why marry him? But in an OA, I'd be asking for an OA agreement. I'd need that reassurance that this piece of paper could give me that in four years, when the child was acting "weird" and it was being blamed on my presence, that I could go to a mediator and say "No. You can't do this with out evidence." It breaks my heart that I could give my child to strangers with enough blind trust that they will be the most amazing parents ever, but still doubt that these strangers could treat me with respect, even if I remain a respectful, loving, considerate person throughout. It breaks my heart to know that I can't trust the people who are raising my daughter to treat me right. It saddens me to know that if I had the internet, if I had the way to know 17 years ago that this type of behavior existed in adoption, that I would NEVER choose adoption. No way.
Stories like this make me look back at the last two years and how much I've put into the relationship, and how little I get back. I know that I am loved and valued, but only because it's been said over and over. Had I not read those words, I'd doubt it. How I've clearly and repetitively stated my intentions, both now and for the future, and they have always been loving and reassuring and considerate. How I've been willing to jump through any hoop to prove anything if need be. And nothing's changed in two years. Two years ago tomorrow morning, I put an envelope in the mail with every hope hinging on it that this would be an amazing, emotional journey. That we would grow and change and learn about eachother, and learn to cherish and incorporate eachother into M's life. And now I do feel like a bit of a naive fool for feeling that way. Worse, I still have hope. I hold onto those moments when I get an update and it's loving and happy, and they make me forget the fact that she stood me up for that phone call, and never rescheduled. It makes me forget about the fact that she hid our contact from M for a year. Forget how she never told me if she ever gave her the birthday card, how she ignored the fact that I recognized her motherhood on Mother's Day. I'd give anything to earn her respect. to have her trust me and want to know me. It leaves me feeling so pathetic, you know? To know that no matter what I do, I will always walk the precarious line, that the chance is greater that things will close than open. I hear a lot of times that I only have roughly a year and a half left, and then M's 18 and I just have to hang in. For what, so that she can be torn between loyalties and bear the brunt of it?
18 isn't something I can bank on to make things right. I can only have faith. But what if it's not enough? In a world where all I see are doors shutting and OA's falling left and right, how do I know? What can I do to not be so insecure? How can I talk to AM? How can I NOT talk to her?
I'm confused and conflicted. I'm sad and I'm running out of hope.
This isn't the way that you said it would be. Not for any of us.
WTF????? How is that a relationship? How do you, as third party, advise the conclusion that one party must do all the work because the other is, in essence, unwilling to go out of their way? And we are SURPRISED that this relationship ended this way a year later, AFTER the birthmother did just that, call for a visit (and no, not the next day, it was months later), a visit with a track record of about a 75% cancellation rate, since the adoptive parents have cancelled the morning of that often???? I'm not surprised. I'm disgusted.
The other story was about a birthmother who thought her daughter was dead. She got a letter a decade ago from the adoptive parents that her daughter had been killed in an accident. She mourned and lived through guilt, only to find it wasn't the truth, after her teen daughter sought her out for reunion. Her daughter was told that she would be supported by her parents if she wanted to search, but now that reunion is happening, she is caught in the middle of a pull by her adoptive parents, who claim that the letter is a lie. Here is a birthmother who didn't go searching, who never told her about the letter or the heartbreak to spare her feelings, who just wanted to forgive and forget and push everything aside to focus on the future, and I still see her trying her damndest to be gracious. And here's her daughter struggling to figure out who is lying, and who she should believe.
I want to know who's brilliant idea it was to have these people fake their daughter's death. You wrote a letter saying your daughter was dead. You went as far as to provide her pictures of funeral arrangement bouquets!!!!! What kind of sick lunatic DOES that????
I hate hearing these stories. I hate blogging about these stories. Because honestly I hate that it perpetuates the scared adoptive parent who only wants a baby and then runs and shuts the door when the adoption is final. Surely there are successful OA's out there? There HAVE to be adoptive parents who are able to keep their raw emotions in check, who had SOME idea that these feelings were going to surface once the child was being raised and have the good sense to deal with it privately and forge on for the sake of their child. Right? I know they are out there, and I am ever so grateful for their voice allowing people to see that you CAN have a sucessful OA. That is is possible to own your feelings and still honor your promises. But there aren't enough out there, because lately it seems every week I'm reading another story, another heartbroken tale from a birthmother who's world is crashing around them because their faith is rocked to the core.
Because I have such a hard time wrapping my head around WHY. And what it does is bring me from zero to insecure in 3 seconds flat. I am reminded how close I am to being on the other side of that line, of being the one who stands there in tears unable to comprehend what it was that I did or said to make things the way they are. Dissecting and overanalyzing every e-mail and every word, every action and every decision from the moment the child was conceived onward to figure out what I did wrong. What I did to deserve it. I hear "I'm busy" on a routine basis. I'm told that AM supports reunion, but what happens if when it comes she lashes out at M? I'm promised things I don't get. Heck, AM has NEVER followed through. EVER. Am I destined to the fate of my cyber pals?
What if I never followed through? What if I was the busy one? Would that go excused? No and it shouldn't. I should be held accountable too. I recently got into it with a forum member about OA agreements. And as sad as it is, if I had the option, I'd insist on one. Me, who thinks pre-nuptual agreements are conterproducive, because if you don't trust him enough not to take you to the cleaners, then why marry him? But in an OA, I'd be asking for an OA agreement. I'd need that reassurance that this piece of paper could give me that in four years, when the child was acting "weird" and it was being blamed on my presence, that I could go to a mediator and say "No. You can't do this with out evidence." It breaks my heart that I could give my child to strangers with enough blind trust that they will be the most amazing parents ever, but still doubt that these strangers could treat me with respect, even if I remain a respectful, loving, considerate person throughout. It breaks my heart to know that I can't trust the people who are raising my daughter to treat me right. It saddens me to know that if I had the internet, if I had the way to know 17 years ago that this type of behavior existed in adoption, that I would NEVER choose adoption. No way.
Stories like this make me look back at the last two years and how much I've put into the relationship, and how little I get back. I know that I am loved and valued, but only because it's been said over and over. Had I not read those words, I'd doubt it. How I've clearly and repetitively stated my intentions, both now and for the future, and they have always been loving and reassuring and considerate. How I've been willing to jump through any hoop to prove anything if need be. And nothing's changed in two years. Two years ago tomorrow morning, I put an envelope in the mail with every hope hinging on it that this would be an amazing, emotional journey. That we would grow and change and learn about eachother, and learn to cherish and incorporate eachother into M's life. And now I do feel like a bit of a naive fool for feeling that way. Worse, I still have hope. I hold onto those moments when I get an update and it's loving and happy, and they make me forget the fact that she stood me up for that phone call, and never rescheduled. It makes me forget about the fact that she hid our contact from M for a year. Forget how she never told me if she ever gave her the birthday card, how she ignored the fact that I recognized her motherhood on Mother's Day. I'd give anything to earn her respect. to have her trust me and want to know me. It leaves me feeling so pathetic, you know? To know that no matter what I do, I will always walk the precarious line, that the chance is greater that things will close than open. I hear a lot of times that I only have roughly a year and a half left, and then M's 18 and I just have to hang in. For what, so that she can be torn between loyalties and bear the brunt of it?
18 isn't something I can bank on to make things right. I can only have faith. But what if it's not enough? In a world where all I see are doors shutting and OA's falling left and right, how do I know? What can I do to not be so insecure? How can I talk to AM? How can I NOT talk to her?
I'm confused and conflicted. I'm sad and I'm running out of hope.
This isn't the way that you said it would be. Not for any of us.
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