ring, riiiiiinnnnnnggggg.....

Hello. Ring ring ring ring......
Not answering.... again. I don't remember the last time I talked to my birthmom.
I do not recall us having a bad talk.... I know she got a new apartment and was going to move- she had stayed in one place for 10 years waiting for me and her son to find her. She said she would not move without telling me and letting me know. I have always done the same for her.
Every time I let a year go by I worried everyday that something had happened to her, she moved, died, got sick..... and I would not know.
We have a set up now that some of her friends would contact me if something happened to her.... but her friends I have learned are not all that reliable.
But it is not like her phone is disconnected- it has never been. She is quite responsible about her bills.
So... what is she thinking as the phone sits ringing. What does she want? Does it put her in a mood- is she MAD? Does she turn the ringer off- cringe? Roll her eyes?
Is she happy to just know I WANT to talk to her?

Where is she at with me and all of this? How does she feel now knowing that I did want her and need her.... that my life is not all peaches and cream... or does she think- that it really was and I am just really a lying spoiled little brat who has no appreciation for her sacrifice?

the thing is- I did not ask for any of it.
Had I been there who knows what I would have decided? I wasn't asked. She did what she thought was best- and it probally was best.
After giving me up things that happen to me were not her fault- it was the people that did those things fault? Now is it my fault for not hiding in a shell and LYING to her about everything being perfect as I had for 6 years..... I don't know. Did I make the wrong call? It is apparent to most I am not perfect and have some "issues" - everybody does?

She is no saint that is for sure.... she wanted better for me- and I got it. Thanks. So now you want me to be grateful and perfect to.... what is this the theme in my life?

I think it is funny to think that humans would not be affected by being adopted and raised by a different family. How could we not be?
Sure I don't know all the ways I was affected and I never ever will.... but to think that I wouldn't be affected is just ludicrous.

Call it whatever you want to- being an adoptee means something. Being adopted means something.
I also think about those people who think that their children pick them.... well- why would we choose such a rocky road? Are we destructive souls from the start? Bumbling idiots who couldn't wind up in the right womb?
If children are to pick their parents wouldn't many pick better?
What about the starving children in 3rd world countries.
It doesn't make any sense.
So enough about that.....
I plan to write her a short letter just asking for her to drop me a post card and tell me she is okay.
She is okay- she is just you know- messed up. She's had a rough life.
I miss her and I love her and I just want her to pick up the damn phone.
Spoiled.

family size

Hi.... I am thinking about something.... and this is not well thought out so I may come back to edit it.

My birthmom came from a family of 6 kids. My birthdad came from a family of 10 kids.
My two best friends since Juniour high school..... you know the first friends you kind of pick? both come from Large families. One from 12 and one from 10.

Conicidence that I have always enjoyed their families? As crazy and dysfunctional as they are?

I have been fascinated by them to a point that I wanted to be in their families.

I wonder if it is because I knew somewhere in me that I was a part of a large family also? Or was it just that big families are interesting and my feelings are relatively normal of anyone adopted or not?

my head......

The internet trolls

It has come to my attention that not all the people reading things written on the computer are good people. They are not all nice.... caring, compassionate people. Some are mean. Be it because they are bored, insecure, or just hurt as children..... they spend their time reading what is written about others lives and then bashing it- to others - on the computer as well.

This totally gets under my skin. For one- being so naive to not ever even think about this happening. For two- being so totally open about myself on the computer and to think about - What if someone is making fun or being vicious about me out there in cyberspace?

And then it occured to me that it does not matter. Yet again- I remember that others opinions of me and what I stand for, believe in, do or say is not important.... it is how I feel about myself that is. I hope I can learn this lesson and instill it in my own kids.

So I went to one of these places where women- mostly- other mothers are bashing- yes- OTHER MOTHERS. Because- they are different- not like them.... WEIRD.

And it made me think of all the things I do- that my adoptive family deemed- different, not like them..... WEIRD.
And how being raised outside of my first family has affected me.... A concept I do not even begin to believe I can understand now- or possibly ever will.

I will give an example.
Pretty much my whole life I have used the phrase- "ya know" Much like a Canadian would use the term "eh" in his/her speech. I have been ridiculed and even punished by my father and mother for doing this. They thought if they just scolded me enough for this weird thing I said- then I would stop.
I never thought of this being out of the ordinary experience for a child to go through. Many parents criticize their child for using improper language or grammar.
Imagine my surprise when I spoke to my birthfather and I found that he too.... uses the term " ya know" the same way- as I do- possibly even more than I do.

This is a small snippet or a small issue in my life and my adoption. One had I not met him- Iwould have never thought twice about- not why I say it- why my parents get so mad about it- or even how to stop. It isn't something I could stop- it is just in me.
It does however make me wonder- how many other things- viewed by my parents as being odd, different, not like them, weird- would have been perfectly common place in my orignal family?
How could adoptive parents deal with things like this now as to not alienate their childs true self into something that is odd, bad, different and just who they are. How can we encourage knowing what to respect and not to?
And to what an extent has this affected me. What would my life have been like if I had had people genetically related to me- by my side? Assuring me- not in words- but by the mere act of being- that I was okay .
Ya know.
Emilie

To be adopted.....

I never really got what it meant to be adopted.... I barely think I even do now..... what has my adoptions impact been on me- the ME I am and the ME I was intended to be? Every experience impacts us and shapes us- some more than others but all life is learning....

What happened to me in the 12 days from the day I was born to the day my adoptive parents got me?
My amom(adoptive mom) recalls me being kept by an older woman. That is all the information they have..... it was a holday weekend- or was it the doctor was out of town... either way- They had a delay and I had to stay with this older woman for longer than expected......
How old, who was she with, what was her name? Isn't it funny I have never before thought to ask these questions. All my life- I just thought- Oh ok. I was kept by an old woman....

did she rock me to sleep- did she sing to me? Did she call me something- what was my name?
I wonder who this woman was- when she got me? Was I just hours old- days? Was she a foster parent with the state or a person working for the adoption agency? Did she do this often- and were there other babies there?
And of course the question at the bottom of this is- WHY does no one have this information?
Why will I never know?
Who has the answers to these questions?
Would they tell me if they even had them?

I think of my babies early days- and I picture the baby me- wondering what is going on- peacefully sleeping- crying? Wetting , hungry. What was this older womans parenting beliefs? Did I get to eat on demand or did she have me on a schedule?
After I was born did the nurses hold me or did they just go back to their shifts? Were they too busy that night to notice the little orphan baby girl?
What impact- if any did those 12 days have on me?
How would I ever even know?

I'm back

I found this old blog from November and I thought I would just continue on with this.....
Since the last post I have spoken to my birth mother on a handful of occasions. With one fall out where she basically told me she was disappointed in who I was..... and she seems to know me so well.
So I am guarded and wounded by her but okay. It was a very hard thing to do and I am still glad to have met her.... but do not know if I can have her in my life as she hurts me so with her anger.

On a great note- I contacted my supposed birth father- John in September and we have been corresponding thru email ever since. We just took a DNA test to be sure he was my biological father- and he is! We have spoken now 2 times on the phone and emailed more pictures back and forth. He looks alot like me. Which is very weird to see myself now thru my parents.,...
Complete.

We hope to meet when he comes thru my state in the summer. I look forward to that.

I have figured out alot about adoption and my adoption and its impact on me following Sandy's visit. I have learned alot about how others feel about adoption- and how I feel about adoption.
I have gotten to find that I have more questions than I do answers and I hope by blogging here I can find some answers and even more questions I am sure.

You can expect a blog soon about snynchronicities and the reunited family which is a book I am reading.

Emilie