May you live in interesting times.
Unknown

Yep, it’s not a Chinese curse and researchers aren’t sure where it came from although it may be a bad translation of Confucius or a Scottish curse. Where ever it is from, it can be a curse or it can be pretty cool.

For me, I am living in interesting times and not in the “curse” way. I am getting divorced. We tried but it didn’t work. Everything has been very amicable and we are working hard for the kids who seem to have adjusted to everything fairly well so far. The whole thing is a bit surreal but I am excited to see what life has in store next. Not much else I want to say on this since it’s a private matter right now.

And boy did it. I recently got a Facebook pm from a young man who believed I was his father. He was worried I would reject him, how funny is that considering all I have gone thru? We have talked via personal email almost every night (and no we haven’t called although we both have each other’s numbers. Maybe a guy thing?) and he is an amazing young man. It seems so weird though to see some of my features in another adults face, in a good way though. DNA came back at 99.9998% I figured the .0001% was because of a steak I ate right before but he says he had a hamburger.

I told my younger sons as soon as the DNA came back and the oldest is too funny. I wasn’t sure how to tell him so I just showed him a picture and explained the basics and he was thrilled. Of course, it was a little embarrassing as we walked thru my apartment complex and he was singing “I have brotha from anotha motha.” Yeah, about that.

I wrote a book. Not a “on book shelves now” book but I wrote over 50,000 words in a story like fashion. I came across a story about a group of people who were in college and one of them said something about writing a novel so the others challenged them to just do it. This started NANOWRIMO (National Novel Writing Month) which is in November. The idea is to start Nov 1 and write at least 50,000 words by Nov 30th. Doesn’t have to be good, and no editing, just get the story within you out. Mine is about a young man who finds out he is adopted and starts searching. Some is based off my life and some based off the myriad of stories I have heard (no ones story is outed though!) It was crazy, I wrote at lunch, in the evenings and even woke up once or twice and jotted notes. It took me 15 days to write 51,000+ words. I am trying to edit it now by reading it to my oldest middle son in the evenings. Maybe one day I will publish it but for now, it’s just feels good to have written it. I started writing some short stories too but more just to process stuff rather than publishing.

Yean, interesting times doesn’t need to be a curse, it can just mean that life is truly worth living.

Twas the night before Christmas
one wish in my heart
to be reunited
with one long apart
the agencies say no
the governments too
but all i ask for
is the same rights as you.
To know my past,
my blood, and my birth
to know my story
in all of it’s worth.
So this night I do wish
and hope for a sign
that one day I will know
the truth that is mine.

I am an American citizen with all the rights AND responsibilities that entails. I vote, serve on juries when called. I work in a service related industry supporting the disposal of waste and recycling. I try to spend my money on local businesses and American products to support my country.

I am a taxpayer. From my first part time job working at my local church (setting up the sound equipment, running the cameras, or helping with assorted jobs) to my current job as an IT Manager. While I prefer to pay fewer taxes, I do not cheat on them either.

I am a Veteran. Immediately after High School, I joined the Navy and served for eleven years before leaving with an Honorable Discharge to begin a family. I served in theatre during Desert Shield as my ship was one of the first in the gulf after the invasion. I am a lifetime member and supporter of the Veteran’s of Foreign Wars (VFW) and I am also a lifetime member and supporter of the Disabled American Veterans (DAV.)

With all these things, you would think I am proud to be an American, proud to be a member of one of the best countries, if not the best, in the world. However, I am not.

I am adopted.

To many, this means I should be grateful. I am expected to feel lucky to have been given a home when I wasn’t wanted. While I am happy and I did have great parents, I still have a longing; a longing to be treated just like so many other American citizens, a longing to know my roots, a longing to look into the eyes of another that are just like mine, a longing to have equal access to MY birth records and original birth certificate. However, I am not allowed. I am told that I have no right to this information that was sealed for my benefit.

Opponents of equal access say that opening records will increase abortions. However, states that have equal access policies, such as Tennessee and Oregon, have not had an increase in abortions and several have had a decrease.

Opponents of equal access say that birth parents were promised privacy but records were sealed to protect the children from the stigma of being a bastard. While there have been some isolated cases where birth parents were verbally promised privacy in recent years, time and time again this fallacy that all birth parents were promised privacy has been disproven. Tennessee even went so far as to say there is no privacy between blood relatives in these cases.

Opponents of equal access say there is no need to access these records and find our roots, yet every day we find more and more linked to genetics. This lack of knowledge affects not only us but our children, and their children. We even have a month of family history and the Surgeon General usually has a speech about how we need to document our family history for future generations while we all break bread together.

Opponents say that birth parents don’t want us to contact them yet in open states the birth parents who have denied contact have been in the low minority.

Only two groups of citizens have an amended birth certificate. One group, those in witness protection, chose this and can opt out. They also know their history. We were not given this option; instead we have had that history stripped from us and told to go away. That is unless we want to pay those same agencies that hold our records some money so that they may dole out small tidbits at their leisure.

You ran on a platform of change, of the peoples of America coming together, of reaching for what we know is possible. I believe this is possible and this is right. We are one of the few countries who still seal records. Let’s join the rest of the world in treating adoptees as full citizens, rather than second class.

Sign the Petition

The dead cannot cry out for justice; it is a duty of the living to do so for them.
Lois McMaster Bujold, Diplomatic Immunity, 2002

So this woman asks for help with her bipolar and the help is given in the removal of her daughter who was placed in foster care. So everything is great right? Well the mother worked to get her medication and qualify to get her daughter back. She met all the requirements. She applied and was scheduled for a hearing on the 16th of this month (although according to the public defender, she had met all the requirements a while ago.) Sounds like a lifetime movie about a woman’s struggle for her child.

However, she isn’t getting her baby back, or least not alive, and this is real life. The foster mom went the the doctor, was given some medication, came home with the baby and two other children, got them into the house, and promptly fell asleep on the couch. She woke up about two hours later, rushed outside, and found the baby still in the car, unconscious. She didn’t recover.

So, the baby was taken away from a mother, for the good of the child, and given to another who killed her. Explain to me again how the system is so much better? Please?

Want to take it up a notch? The police haven’t decided whether to charge her because they want to see the toxicology report on the foster parent. She took the drugs, she is responsible. Why is this even a question? I love this line cause it just makes it all better. When speaking about the foster mother, one woman said, “She acted more like a parent, really, than a foster parent.” So what exactly does that mean? Another person commented on Bastardette’s blog about how this foster parent had given Bibles to foster kids. So how many gift Bibles wipe out the death of a child? The agencies response? Nothing. However the State Child Advocate stated, “I usually look at these kinds of situations as there but for the grace of God go I.” Wow, isn’t that just awe inspiring.

This situation is bugging me to no end and I don’t know why. There are others cases like this out there and I don’t know why this one sticks in my craw so badly.

I read about this initially on Bastardette Blog, specifically her entry entitled Somebody needs to be held responsible and the follow up Jessica Scovil update grandmother and the article on the Athens Banner-Herald.

If you cannot get rid of the family skeleton, you may as well make it dance.
George Bernard Shaw (1856 - 1950)

I was browsing some blogs the other day and came across this one that made me think. So often we talk about the adoptee child or adult and their mother and father (both sets.) We talk about the ups and down of their reunion or lack there of. We talk about the joy and the pain, the fears and longings, and the hopes and dreams that is part of the reunion. We talk about how the adoptive parents may feel or the relationship dynamics when the adoptee searches or reunites. What we don’t seem to talk about too much is the siblings.

Several adoptees I know have reunited to find out that they have brothers and sisters. While they are excited, I noticed most of them, tend to talk about these siblings as “her children” or “his kids” as if they need to distance themselves from this other facet of their bloodline. I don’t get why. I think I would be thrilled to meet other sons and daughters of my parents but I am not reunited so then again, maybe I would do the same thing. I still wish I knew why though. Is it because they are afraid to hope they can have a relationship? Or afraid they will damage the tenuous relationship they are creating? Fear that they will be rejected?

Then there is the flip side. What is the son or daughter thinking when they found out their mom or dad has another child out there AND they have come back? Let’s face it, even if the birthparent doesn’t expect the adoptee to come searching there is still that knowledge that there is a child out there. Even if the adoptee never expects their parents to come looking for them, they still know there are people out there who share their blood. I can’t imagine the feelings a sibling who has just been blindsided must go thru. Feelings of betrayal, confusion, fear? Is that even scratching the surface?

Halfsister gave me a brief glimpse into this and it’s a little frightening.

However, I still think it’s important that we try to reunite. I still think that it’s important that we are allowed to know our roots and to meet others who share our blood. I think the secrets, lies, and shame surrounding our births should be exposed - not necessarily to the world, but to the families involved. I think our brothers and sister should be allowed to get to know us if they wish and that we should have that same opportunity and not have some agency or worse, parents, interfere with us and the possibilities.

I think as adoptees, we need to remember what the other side may be going thru. We read books about the parents feelings and about our own feelings but we need to remember the others touched by our actions. We need to remember that often their initial rejection or anger may be directed at us but probaly isn’t about us, instead a normal response to what can be earth-shattering news.

One other thing, somebody please remind me of this if I ever reunite.

Go read this blogpost from Writing My Wrongs

A good exercise for the heart is to bend down and help another up.
Anonymous

Remember that old Tootsie Pop commercial. “How many licks does it take to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop?” Where the wise old owl starts to lick and count - a one, a two, a three CRUNCH!! Three licks says the owl. So how many licks does does an adoptee have to take to finally just appreciate the gift we have been given and stop trying to get something we have no right to? Don’t know, haven’t found it yet.

Why do we search though? I have been asked this many times and it’s a common topic adoptees are asked cause those not adopted often can’t fully grasp the need, the longing to know. It’s like a burning inside. Sometimes it smolders; like a little spark left from a flame, and sometimes it flares up into a roaring inferno.

Some adoptive parents I have talked to, seem worried that the adoptee is looking for their “real” parents. That term “real” is the key and I can see where they may fear it. After all, they love their children, even when grown, so you can understand how they may feel like they are losing their child. In some ways, I think they fear that they made a mistake or were “bad” parents that drove the adoptee to search. Unless you were a totally screwed up parent, that wasn’t it. It’s still a part of who we are, our blood. However, trying to stop the adoptee, either by silently putting up a wall or by outright anger toward the adoptee is wrong. Don’t take out your insecurity on your child. Deal with it and support your child, in this search, they may need you more than they have in a long time now that they are grown. Your support and understanding can be invaluable and many adoptees I have talked to say they actually grow closer to their parents as they search and reunite when they feel supported.

The bad parent thing is something to think about though. Many of the adoptee books talk about the “ghosts” or “shadow” parents. When the adoptive parents do something the adoptee doesn’t like, they may say to themselves that their birth parents would never have treated them like that (heck they may say it to the adoptive parents out loud.) When the adoptive parents do something good, it may lead to the adoptee getting irritated that the birth parents were so bad. This isn’t something that only adoptees do, kids are doing this with their moms and dads as well. “Well mom/dad would have let me!!”

So why do we search? The first answer, an the safest cause people can relate to this and it’s a way to see how much support we might get or at least basic understanding, is usually medical information. This isn’t to say it isn’t an important part. Just the easiest for non-adoptees to “click.” Science has proven and continues to prove that so much is linked to genes and it isn’t just about us but about our children and grandchildren. Please don’t start commenting how I am discounting the “nurture” side of the equation. I get that both nature and nurture play a role but we don’t know the nature part because we don’t have our blood around us to see it.

Another common one is to see someone who looks like you. Have you ever had that school assignment where you are supposed to write down were you got your eyes from, or who in your family has a similar nose, or which grandparents has ears like yours? Imagine as a kid that that is like if all you have is a piece of paper to use or have that attempt to complete the assignment become the reason you find out your adopted! Can you imagine only seeing your face when you look into the mirror and yet you see the similarities between other families? As you think about that, add in the extra layer for trans-racial adoptees.

History. There are so many layers to this one, that it’s impossible to list them all. Where did we come from? Where did our ancestors come from? Why did our family give us up? Why don’t they look for us now? Do they think of me? Am I related to any famous people form history? All these and more are part of our story too and we want to know. In DMC’s My Adoption Journey documentary, (which you can see me in for a second or two!!) a lady mentioned that you don’t start a book with Chapter 2, you start with Chapter 1. This was one of the best descriptions I have ever heard. We have our chapter 2 from our adoptive parents, and our chapter 3, 4, 5, etc… What we don’t have is our chapter 1 or even the prologue.

So how many reasons does it take for an adoptee to get to the center of their search? A one, a two, a three…. to heck with the wise old owl, it doesn’t matter what their reason or number of reasons is; this is their choice and their journey. Help and Support them unconditionally. Help us change the world for future adoptees, to give them freedoms, to know to never have to wonder without getting the answers. If you can’t give them your support, first ask yourself why? What is stopping you? Do you disagree, or are you afraid what they may find, or afraid they may leave you? If you still can’t get past this, then at least don’t hinder them by actions or inactions, or take your inability to support them out on them.

There is no cure for birth and death save to enjoy the interval.
George Santayana (1863 - 1952)

So my birthday has come and gone and I survived. Actually, I did quite well. I didn’t spend hours pouring over search sites or Ancestry.com like normal. Instead I watched Eureka Season 2 (I got it as a gift, love that show!!) and exercised a bit but otherwise just relaxed.

It was a good day.

Saturday was a trip though. Originally, I was going to CUB and the adoptees were going to go to dinner afterwards just to hang out but my wife had made other arrangements. (She forgot about CUB.) She had called a buddy of mine to come over with some other friends to play Battlestations (a roll-playing space game.) We hadn’t had a game since November of last year so it was good to get my crew back. We played from about 12:30 until almost midnight and we won. Heck, I captured one of the enemy ships with just a bot at my side and a whole lot of luck!!

Today, my wife is off to visit her sister, without the kids. Should be an interesting couple of days for me.

Fear is that little darkroom where negatives are developed.
Michael Pritchard

So much going on, so busy. I never seem to have time to just sit down and write or think.

My birthday is coming up and I can feel the familiar feelings coming back. The longing to know, the mild depression cause I don’t, the confusion as to why she still said no contact, and the hope that maybe…..

Last January, I sent out seven letters. Previously, I had only gotten one response but only to state that it wasn’t them. On Monday, I got another letter in the return envelopes I had sent. I was shaking cause almost a year and a half afterwards and a week from my birthday, I couldn’t believe the hope I held in my hand. That didn’t last long. I opened it only to find another note saying that this person had never been to Florida and wasn’t “that Sharon Biggs.”

Nothing like a quick kick in the stomach to bring hope crashing down.

I don’t know why I am having such a hard time finding her. I think partially it’s a mental block. I mean I have a freakin name. It shouldn’t be this hard but I can’t seem to match anyone up with the info in my non-id. I guess deep down, I am afraid to get my hopes up and truly find her only to have her say no again.

I wonder why she doesn’t want to know me. What fear could be keeping her from at least trying? What pain is keeping her in hiding? I have met enough birthmoms to know that there are hundreds of little reasons that can come into play and to know that there are a hundred more I don’t know out there but that doesn’t really matter to that little kid inside of me.

Then again, I read about stories like these and I want to be happy for what I have had and currently have but the heart wants, what the heart wants.

Mine wants to find my blood

So I was talking to an adoptee friend the other day, discussing some songs they are writing and the fact that they will be beginning to search in the very near future. In the course of the talk I began feeling some of those old feelings of pain and getting a little morose.

When I get this way my brain starts wandering and often that is when I write my better posts. I haven’t really let myself go like that in a while with family, school, and work but that night I did and I was in tears.

So I wrote little rhyming snippets. Not sure if I would call them poetry but they are from me.

The first two here was from thinking about my family:

although I may not say or show
I love you dear more than you’ll know
I may have friends far and wide
but its you I want by my side

and

little sons so young and free
little sons a part of me
how lucky am I to have them here
for within their eyes, myself I see

Okay, it’s not Emily Dickinson but I’ve never really written poetry before. (No jokes about how I still haven’t please.) I then floated into haiku format. Granted it’s mot truly based on the standard haiku format because nothing should be explained, the poem should make you feel and realise what it’s about.

Haiku Night
moonbeams scale thru leaves
a rhythm of stars sparkle
music of the night

Then my shields came up, my humor shields that is, designed to offset the feelings and push them away. (My Therapist always calls me on my smile because most of the session I wear it like armor.

Haiku Knight
clanging, banging steel
stomping, neighing, cheering din
music of the knight

Then things went slightly left

Haiku Adopted
soul of a feather
drifting with the lightest breeze
I am adopted

That was just weird but it kept going

shards of memory scattered on the floor
dreams and lovers who have come before
pieces of a life to be lived no more

Okay, not only a left turn but a cut across the meridian I think and now off the road completely.

a tear falls from darkest eyes
the mark of a soul that silently cries
longing to know who it is inside

So I may never be a poet but my soul scares me sometimes.