BlogHer » The Chronicles of Munchkin Land

I’m Still Not Good at Saying, “Hi, I’m Jenna and I’m a Birth Mother”

Aug 022011

It’s true. I’m not good at it. I may be an “out” birth mother. I’ll talk about adoption at will, in person or online. But I “know” the people I talk to in real life about adoption. And I also (mostly) “know” the people I talk about with adoption online. The latter also removes eye contact and my ability to see their gaping mouths when they learn that I am a birth mother.

Conferences (like the upcoming BlogHer) throw people in my face. Force eye contact. Show me their surprised looks.

And you could tell me that I don’t have to tell people that I’m a birth mother. But the truth is that I blog about adoption. And when people ask, “What do you blog about?” And I reply, “Family life, photography, firefighters and adoption,” they don’t care about the other stuff. They say, “Adoption? So you’re an adoptive mom?” That’s the question, eight times out of ten. The automatic assumption that I’m writing about adoption from an adoptive parent point of view. One time out of ten, I’m asked if I’m an adoptee. And then I stumble. “Uh, well, no. I’m a birth mother.”

Sometimes I look away. But most of the time I watch their face for their reaction. The intake of breath. The eyebrows. The confusion that passes behind their eyes. The quick once over while they try to decide, by looking at my clothes or my hair or my skin or my shoes, if I “seem” like someone who “gives up” or “abandons” or just didn’t love her baby enough. Most of the time, people ask normal, non-judgmental questions after that and I have to launch into a shortened version of my story. Sometimes people say accidentally offensive things and I just smile and nod. Occasionally really “funny” people make really offensive comments and I just mentally mark them off as someone I won’t be following on twitter later as I imagine shredding their business cards. Okay, so maybe I don’t do that last one. Or maybe I do. You’ll never know.

But it’s hard for me to handle this topic in such a public way. I try. I’m getting better. But I struggle.

So if you walk up to me at BlogHer and I stumble over what I blog about or avoid eye contact or melt into a puddle of anxious tears, please know that it’s hard for me to lay it all on the line. To say, “Yes, I relinquished my firstborn for adoption and it’s absolutely the hardest thing I’ve done and continue to deal with in my life and, oh my gosh, please don’t judge me because you really know nothing of my story. Yet. Until you read my blog. Where I lay it all out on the line on a regular basis.” I don’t know. Maybe I should just memorize that speech and blather it every time someone raises their eyebrows.

Whatever the case, I want BlogHer ’11 attendees to remember that there are birth mothers (more than just me) attending the conference. We are not unicorns; we are real. And sometimes we don’t know how to explain who we are or what we do. But we’re there, among you.

Voices of the Year & Unicorns

Writing 7 Responses »

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.