Sometimes I forget that my kids think about their birth parents. It catches me off guard when I ask my son what he’s doing and he says he’s writing a letter to his birth mom. He wants to let her know how much he’s grown, and he loves her and wants her to stop taking drugs so he can see her again. He’s never met her. I have no pics of her. I’ve never met her. I wrote a heartfelt letter to her when she relinquished him, and it got to her much later while she was in jail. We never heard back from her though. Secretly it hurts to hear him write this letter. It leaves me feeling like I’m not doing enough to love him. It’s almost like secretly I wish they would love me so much that they would forget about them. Forget about the ones who gave them all these struggles in the first place. But logically I know this wont happen. Nor should it. It is my job to help them feel good about their birth parents so they feel good about themselves. To help them understand that they didn’t abandon them, but loved them enough to give them a better life and safer life. To let make sure they know how hard it was for them to let them go in the first place. And to make sure they know how lucky I am to have such wonderful children to love and care for. It’s my job to give them positive hope that they will one day see them again and get to share all these letters and feelings with them. As I watch my little boy’s eyes fill with tears as he realizes he can’t actually send this beautiful letter to the woman he knows about, but wants to believe she lives butterflies, I do just that. I help him feel better. I hug him tight, I let him express that he misses her and wonders about her. I tell him positive reasons why she didn’t write. I hug him tight and tell him how much I love him and that I’m grateful for God giving me a perfect son. Hoping inside that when he is older this is what he will remember instead of how much he gets in trouble. But secretly I think how easily positives are lost and bogged down by negatives. I say secretly because I would never share these fears with him. But with others I will share so that people understand other sides of adoption and that I’m not a super mom, I’m just a mom. And thankful to be one.
Divorce hurts more then just you and your spouse September 4, 2011
Today he turns 7. In the Filipines 7 is a big birthday. Very important. This is the first birthday I will miss of his. My brother and his wife divorced this past year, and it has been a nightmare. We all tried everything to stay family, but in the end hurtful words were said, and things done that tore apart our family. Funny thing is my brother is at his son’s party now. I guess that is how it is supposed to be. But my parents, and myself, and my children were not invited this year. We were told not to come. He is our first nephew, and grandson and the only one who is blood related to us. And we miss out now. All the holidays are different, but this is feeling pretty crappy. It just breaks my heart. And I am sure it won’t be the last time it breaks during my nephews life. He means so much to my family. Divorce doesn’t just affect you and your spouse, it affects the entire family. And the child is the one who pays the price. There is a reason why God does not want you to divorce and asks you to fight it out and work it out with the exception of abuse. It rips families apart. And it is always the innocent who get hurt. And it doesn’t end just because your marraige ends. Divorce sucks. And sometimes I wonder how I can ever truly forgive them for tearing apart our family like this.
The Good Old Days January 23, 2011
As I sit in my little home in sunny, warm, arizona, I think about christmas on the farm as I grew up. Those days are only stuff in history books to my grand children but the memories are sharp and clear to everyone in my age group. Christmas time was = of coming into the house on a cold day and the warm wood and coal heat felt so good on my cold face, fingers, and toes. Of the aroma of bread and christmas cookies baking, the smell of the live evergreen tree, complete with homemade decorations and glass balls, so carefully saved from year to year. The excitement of secretly making gifts for my parents and brothers and sisters. And , oh, that wonder of shopping in the stores of our little town! The hardware store and the grocery store had such a treasure of things to buy with my carefully saved pennies. If I was lucky enough to get a trip to the big city of Minot and then got to stay long enough to see the colored lights come on, it was magic. Most of the time, my family had to be home because there were chores to be done. All school and church programs started at 8pm because those chores had to be finished by the farm families first. I and everyone else were dressed in their best with parts to say or do in the programs. Then we each got a special treat of a sack of candy and nuts to take home!
Memories are great. Many say those were the ” good old days,” but I really like my electricy; hot and cold running water; bathrrooms and sewers; central heat; cars that start, with heaters and defrosters, roads that are cleared of snow; televisions; and phones that work. I am lucky to have lived to see all these marvels. Someday this will be the “good old days!”
How amazing it seems to me that all of these “marvels” are inventions that have all happened in my Aunt’s lifetime. I’ve been on the farm she talks about and can see her memories a little clearer. I’ve been to the small, “big city” of Minot and can picture the excitement! I love how she reminds us of all the things that we have to be thankful for. Things that many of us, including myself, complain about. The grass always does seem greener way back when and on the other side, but my aunt reminded me that the grass is pretty green right here, right now. Thank you God for all of the blessings I take for granted.