01

Mount Everest and Creativity

I want to write more about the wedding but, I’m going to be honest. I’m still processing some of the emotions that accompanied the event. They’re mostly fabulous but they’re still very overwhelming. I did wear waterproof mascara to the event which was the right decision. And so, as I process those emotions, I thought I’d tell you a little bit about what else is going on in my somewhat-adoption-related-world.

At Swagapalooza, a book was in our swag bag. It’s entitled Ignore Everybody: and 39 Other Keys to Creativity. It’s by Hugh MacLeod of Gaping Void. I wasn’t expecting much out of a free book from a guy who didn’t even present at the event. I have been pleasantly surprised. Right now I’m on point/chapter ten and I had to share it with you, my adoption journey readers.

Everybody has their own private Mount Everest they were put on this earth to climb.

The point goes on in a very encouraging manner.

You may never reach the summit; for that you will be forgiven. But if you don’t make at least one serious attempt to get above the snow line, years later you will find yourself lying on your deathbed, and all you will feel is emptiness.

I wonder exactly what my personal Mount Everest is, what I’m journeying toward. I mean, I’ve been talking about my journey toward peace and healing for quite some time. However, is that just an attempt to get past the snow line? I don’t quite know. I know what I want to do, what I want to accomplish and I even hesitate writing it now because it seems as big and scary as a mountain that is known for killing people on their way to the top.

I’ve been getting nudges, for years now, to write a book. What book, exactly, is still unsure to me. I know everyone expects me to detail my adoption story, our journey that we continue on and will continue on for years and years to come, even after Munchkin is an adult and on her own. However, having paid attention to Dawn’s trials in this same exact area, I already know some of what rejection will come my way. The claims that it isn’t my story to tell. The claims that we don’t know how the Munchkin will feel about it all later on and, as such, the story can’t be told yet. Truth be told, memoirs are actually just supposed to be a glimpse at one part of a life story and not a full conclusion on a life lived. If everyone waited until the life journey was complete to write their memoir, the genre would die right along with the people who were thinking, “I wonder if my journey is complete enough to put pen to paper today. No? Maybe tomorrow.” Too late.

Then there’s the problem of knowing what I want to say. Or, rather, not knowing what I want to say. Or, really, if I get to the heart of the matter, being afraid of the reactions of people for simply saying what it is that I have to say. My adoption story and journey aren’t pleasing to either the super pro-adoption camp who believe that all babies conceived out of wedlock should be given to more deserving couples or the super anti-adoption camp who believe that adoption is inherently evil and should be abolished at all costs. This is, of course, because I am not an extremist and live my reality somewhere between the two ideas. Parts of my story do speak to the absolute and immediate need for adoption reform. The way I was lied to and subtly coerced by the unethical agency through which I placed are exactly what I want to see changed. However, other parts of my story do speak to the wonders of open adoption. I have many a moment, many a conversation that really end up making the long, arduous and grief-laden road worth the bruised knees and broken heart of my travels.

Of course, as I argue these thoughts with myself, I come back to a very important point of which I try to remind others writing on the topic of adoption, be it in blog or forum form: my story does not negate, dismiss or diminish someone else’s story; it is my own. As such, I really shouldn’t care what the extremists from either side think of my story. (Nor do I on a normal basis. But the book idea is scary!) I really shouldn’t even care what the everyday Jane and Joe Schmoe think. This should just be about me, my story and pen and paper. Or, fingers and keyboard. The truth is, I don’t know exactly how I want to portray my story. Truthfully, obviously. Honestly. With passion. But what to say. How to say it. And how to portray it. I just don’t know as of yet.

Maybe I’ll figure it out by the time I finish this book. I don’t know.

6

Moments and People

There are moments in our lives that shape who we are, who we will become. There are people in our lives who shape who we are, who we will become. Sometimes these two things, moments and people, cross and combine. People who have shaped our lives also are involved in moments that define who we are.

Nearly five years ago, FireDad and I got married in a beautifully decorated church in front of our families and our friends. Standing up with me on my side of the church were people who had already had a part in shaping my life. At the time, we thought we were very “cutting edge” as D, my daughter’s adoptive mother, donned a red bridesmaid dress and posed for wedding party photographs. Having her present on a day, in a moment that shaped my life seemed right. The adoption of my daughter had been such a driving force in my life and D’s presence in my life changed who I was, who I would become. It felt right to have her there. We laughed about how people were shocked that she would be in my wedding. It just felt right for us; a friendship formed over a moment that changed the both of our lives forever.

This weekend I drove her to her hair appointment. I made sure she ate a spoon of peanut butter as her blood sugar was crashing because she only ate Lucky Charms all day. I got her caffeinated to help with the headache. I helped set out the wine, busied the children while she attended to other things and generally helped out with a moment that would change her life. My daughter’s mom remarried in the most beautiful wedding ceremony I have ever been blessed to attend this past Saturday. Beautiful vows were exchanged, kisses were given and butterflies were released. Tears kept escaping from my eyes. They weren’t tears of sadness. They were tears of joy. I haven’t seen D so happy in years.

If you had told me on my own wedding day that I would, nearly five years later, help D out as her unofficial matron of honor on her wedding day, I would have laughed at you. We both would have laughed at you. No amount of foresight could have predicted any of this journey. And yet, there we were.

Five years ago I felt honored and blessed to have her by my side. Two days ago I felt honored and blessed to help out and watch her begin this new journey of her own. And, while I didn’t imagine it to be so, her wedding was also a defining moment in my own life journey. I didn’t exchange vows, of course, but I’m now part of a new family. Watching their love, their joy and their devotion to each other as a family filled my heart so full. I am excited for this part of our journey. And I am happy to be traveling it with someone I consider one of my very best friends.

Five years ago.

Two days ago.

Congrats, D & M. May you have a lifetime of love and laughter… because it’s so good to see you laugh again, D.

9

What No One Told Me About Adoption

As part of a carnival with Grown in my Heart, I’m answering the non-question: What no one told me about adoption.

As I’m writing this on a visit, I can think of a million and one things. Basically, I wasn’t told anything about the realities of adoption. Nothing. Our agency did nothing to prepare us for the ins and outs of making an open adoption work. In fact, our agency did nothing to educate us as to what open adoption could or could not entail. They told us nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Who knew that I would one day be watching my daughter and her brother, alone in the house with them, while her mom and stepdad (as of yesterday) were out at their rehearsal evening dinner. I mean, who would have guessed that I’d be helping my daughter’s mom put her wedding favors together, almost five years after she helped me put my wedding favors together. These aren’t things you think of; there’s no way to plan for this kind of reality.

I could be jaded. Sometimes I am. But the fact is that, no, I wasn’t told anything. But we’ve made it work. We’ve made mistakes. I’ve had to eat humble pie and apologize on occasion. I’ll probably have to do so in the future.

All I know is this: no one told me it would be so hard. But no one told me it could be so wonderful. I live the reality of those two truths and I hope that by sharing those two truths, I will help others as they live their reality.