Oct 212011
 

Opening session at #blogherwriters

It’s midday here at the BlogHer Writers conference in NYC. I need to pause in my day and write something that ties writing, and more specifically publishing, to adoption, and more specifically open adoption.

I see so many people — birth parents and adoptive parents alike — who close an open adoption or simply walk away without informing the other party as to why simply because it’s too hard. It’s too hard to deal with the emotional complexities of it all. It’s too hard to balance the time between a birth family and everyday family and, in some cases, multiple birth families. It’s too hard to explain to new friends. It’s too hard to deal with the stereotypes. It’s too hard. It’s too hard. It’s too hard.

Let me tell you this: “It’s too hard” is not even a good excuse. It’s pretty much a non-excuse.

I have been so incredibly inspired by the speakers we have already listened to this morning. But they’ve been honest with us: It’s not easy to get a book published. It’s hard work. There’s a lot of rejection. There’s blood, sweat and tears. And, in the end, it doesn’t pay all that well. Well doesn’t that sound like a big ball of fun? No. No it doesn’t. But the end result? Is worth it. And that’s why writers keep on striving toward that end goal.

Similarly, there are moments in my open adoption that have not been fun or easy or all that rewarding. I am trolled online. In real life, people say horribly offensive things to my face. I miss my daughter so much, but sometimes it’s even harder to be in her presence. The balancing of my everyday life with the open adoption visits and emotions is trying at times; it’s hard to make it all fit. But the end result — a grown adult adoptee who knows that she was always wanted, always loved and has the knowledge she can ask either her mom or me anything she wants to know — is why I keep on keeping on.

I’m not saying I’ve never wanted to give up, to get back in the birth mother closet and pretend that the hard stuff of this open adoption simply doesn’t exist. I keep that end result in mind, at heart, deep in my soul. That end result is what helps factor into the decisions I make, the things that I say, the direction I take.

The book I write.

Open adoption is not easy. Writing that book is not easy. Both? Both are worth it. Don’t use a non-excuse — and your fear — get in the way of that blessed end result.

 Posted by at 12:36 pm
Jul 152011
 

We’re home from our visit. Exhausted. In lots of physical pain. Sad. But home.

The sting of leaving the Munchkin behind was lessened a little when we stopped for a quick pee-wash-hands-grab-dinner-get-back-in-the-car-and-eat-on-the-road-because-OMG-I-just-wanna-get-home when I checked my email while waiting to order our food. I did a happy dance right there in the line at Wendy’s. My boys gave me a look.

I am honored to be included as an Honoree in the BlogHer Voices of the Year for my “I Am Not a Unicorn” post here on Chronicles.

I think that Elisa ran late on announcing specifically so I could have something to smile about today. Smiling on the day that I leave my daughter behind at the end of a visit is not something that usually happens. For the majority of the trip home, until that email check, I was batting back tears. When she hugged me this morning, I kissed her head and had to look away as she said she would miss me. I told her I would miss her too. But I couldn’t make eye contact. I didn’t want to lose it… create a scene. My boys were already upset enough about leaving. The Munchkin was already upset. I am an adult and I needed to hold it together. I did learn, however, that batting back tears is a good way to keep yourself awake on an eight hour road trip.

I knew that “I Am Not a Unicorn” was something special when I wrote it. One or two posts per year here at Chronicles just hit me in a special way. They’re rarely the controversial ones, though Michelle nominated the one that got me on the hate lists. They’re usually the ones where I find enough courage to speak from my most inner place; my soul, my heart, my existence. The Unicorn Post hit me because I have been told, time and time again over the years, that I’m a special case. That people understand why I placed because I was so sick. That I’m not really representative of those who relinquish. And while I get what they’re saying and understand that they’re trying to be kind, their words still sting.

I am real. And I’ve always been real.

I know I won’t be reading it from the stage — which is probably good because I don’t think I could get through that mess without openly weeping and, trust me, I’m an ugly crier — but knowing that people who have no interest in adoption, ethical reform, or birth parents being seen as real people are reading that post… well, that makes me grin from ear to ear.

I know everyone is looking for more updates (and cute pics) from our visit. And my scathing review of the Teen Mom and/or 16 & Pregnant Adoption Special with Dr. Dumb-butt Drew. Those are coming. I promise. Tonight I needed to share this. That I wrote something that people who have no immediate connection to adoption thought would resonate with a larger audience. That I put myself on the line with my writing and it paid off. That I am not a unicorn; I am real — the hurt, the laughter, the joy, the pain, the sadness, the love… it’s all real.

Go check out the rest of the Honorees’ posts and the speakers’ blogs. (The speakers’ specific posts have not yet been linked in that post.) Some of my very favorite bloggers and friends are honorees and speakers. I jumped around (as much as my back would let me) as I read through the list. And — as an aside — if you’re attending BlogHer ’11, skip that swag party (and whatever else) that happen to be held during the Voices of the Year Community Keynote. Trust me: Free stuff is cool, but the Community Keynote is why we blog. To witness other people sharing their best writing? To support them in that? To stand with them and applaud them for a job well done? That’s what it’s all about, folks. You’ll kick yourself if you miss this. Just trust me.