It is not a bad idea to get in the habit of writing down one’s thoughts. It saves one having to bother anyone else with them.
Isabel Colegate

So I have been nominated for a Thinking Blog Award by the great writer Suz at Writing My Wrongs. (Love the title!) I have to say I am honored.

Part of the deal is that I need to nominate five blogs that make me think. While I personally think it’s cruel to make me select only five here goes:

• Adoption and It’s Triad written by Amy. This is a fellow Vet who is fighting for equal access and isn’t afraid to go to the top to do it. She always has the latest dirt and information, while asking the questions and even getting the answers from the people in power which is no small feat.
• Joy’s Division written by Joy. Sometimes full of questions, sometimes angry, always seeking to find her truth. She doesn’t hide from her pain or fears so much as ask them to wrestle and is the stronger for it.
• Not Mother written by Poor_Stature. Subtitled “A Birthmother’s Tale” it is just that. A mom who has reunited and the thoughts, feelings, joys, and fears that come up for her as she travels this road and finds a balance between the past and the future. Check out this post for a great example of ths insight you can find here: Do I ever want to walk away
• Mia’s Saving Grace written by Mia. A blog to change the world. What more can be said?
• Musings of the Lame written by FauxClaud. What list would be complete without this blog? She makes videos, writes thoughtful posts, answers anonymous hecklers, and even does TV and web radio. A must read for anyone. Even if you don’t agree with what she wrote, you have to agree it makes you think.

So another big THANK YOU for Suz and to those who have sacrificed moments of your precious time to read my ramblings.

I am convinced that many of you have taken your anger and bitterness and have dwelled on it for so long that you have created the illusion in your minds that YOU ARE STILL THE PARENTS OF THE CHILDREN YOU WILLINGLY GAVE UP!!! Adoptive parents do not raise “other” peoples children - we raise OUR children. Giving birth to a child does not make you a parent - you actually HAVE TO PARENT a child to be a parent.
Anon on Claud’s Blog. Capital letters were in original comment.

Wow, that sort of just reaches out and grabs you by the throat for a quick throttle, doesn’t it. Quite a few comments on that one, many from birthparents so I will leave their side alone. However, from an adoptees side I won’t.

My first reaction was very visceral. I actually went back two different times before I final commented on the third visit. I still have been thinking about it even though it’s been a few days because it really got to me.

Okay, let’s look at the definition of parent first. Webster’s dictionary breaks it down to:

• one that begets or brings forth offspring
• a person who brings up and cares for another

Well, if you look at the first definition then birthparents do fall under “parents.” However, let’s look at the visceral reaction to this. Is my birthmom a parent to me? Maybe not in the way that I think of my parents but she is the link to my genetic and family history. There is no way around it. We are related by blood. No matter how much I love or appreciate my parents, no matter what they have given me for a life, they didn’t give me life. I can’t change that. Like I have said before, I wish I could share their blood, they are good people.

I think part of the problem I had was that the commenter just seems to totally discount what the adoptee may feel. Reading thru this as it is seems like they are talking about property not a human being who will have their own feelings in the matter. If I had heard my parents make a comment like this, I would never have told them I was searching and may not have even searched, not because I didn’t want to but because I was afraid of their reactions. Children should not be afraid of their parents like that.

Yet, some are. Some adoptive parents can’t seem to get past the fact that they didn’t get a blank slate off an assembly line. Okay that may be a bit harsh but please understand this child you are taking in may be your child and a new member of your family but he/she has blood ties to another and should be completely respected if he/she wants to find them. It isn’t about you. If the birthparents are bitter because of what they went thru when they gave up the child, whether it’s because they did it or were forced/coerced into doing it then again it isn’t about you. Don’t give me this crap about how much it has changed. Tell that to Rashead or Bennet or those kids who were locked in overturned baby cribs or the Russian child who was adopted by a pedophile. There have been changes but not necessarily for the better.

The bottom line though is that it should be up to the adoptee in reality. We are the ones with ties both ways and we are the ones who should get to decide on our own if we want. We are the ones who didn’t have any sort of choice and even as adults are treated like children, not allowed to have our own records, know our own past, or make our own decisions in too many cases. We should be the ones to decide who our parents are one group, the other, both, or neither.

Let’s face it, why does it matter to so many people if the adoptee finds his/her blood? What is the danger to the parents who raised them? Why do people seem so surprised that an adoptee can have a great relationship with the parents who raised them and still want to search? Why do so many people think its disrespectful to the adoptive parents? Why does it seem so weird that an adoptee can have a positive relationship with both? People have positive relationships with their parents and the in-laws all the time at the same time. (Okay, that may sometimes be a stretch but it does happen.)

Then again, I guess things are changing. Adoptees are standing up and speaking for ourselves. We want to be heard; our thoughts and words given credit and not tossed aside. We want to not feel like we are in the middle of a multi-point tug-of-war between both of our parents and the rest of society. We are saying that we aren’t children anymore.

Do not worry about your difficulties in Mathematics. I can assure you mine are still greater.
Albert Einstein (1879 - 1955)

I have been swamped recently preparing, studying, and complaining about my math exam for school which I took yesterday. This computer based exam covered college algebra, geometry, trig, and probability/statistics with 49 multi-part questions. It took me a little over three hours. I had such a splitting headache afterwards. Oh yeah, and it didn’t give me the results at the end. I hate math, did I mention that? This is the one exam I have been dreading and putting off way too long.

It did today though and I passed. Math is done. No more math for my degree. Granted I just started so I still have a long way to go until I actually get a degree but the next few courses are on computers (I have been working in IT for almost 9 years) and on reading/writing (as long as I can use spellcheck) so I am looking forward to those. Actually, I am pretty much ready for the next exam for computer fundamentals.

I am working on a post that some “ungrateful” person asked me to write but haven’t finished it yet so don’t give up on me. Tomorrow is the baby shower so it probably won’t be done tomorrow either but hopefully this weekend.

Colonel Jack O’Neill, “It’s time for Plan B.”
Capt. Carter, “We have a Plan B?”
Colonel O’Neill, “No, but it’s time for one.”
Stargate

I love the series Stargate. If you haven’t seen it, there is somehting wrong with you but never fear, there is still time and you can rent all 10 seasons from Netflix.

Anyhow, the premise is this great big ring that dials to other planets and creates a wormhole between them allowing people to just step thru to get to the other planet. The ring has 39 symbols that are dialed to connect and it takes seven symbols. Six are for the location and the seventh is the starting point. (The symbols relate to star charts.) In one episode they found that by dialing an eighth symbol they can add an extra distance to the dialing sort of like dialing an area code. When they dialed the eigth symbol they found a place they had been searching in our galaxy for, the lost city of Atlantis. From that a new adventure was born.

So what does this have to do with me other than I’m a geek? A while back I sent seven letters. Three came back undeliverable and no response on the other four. One of those undeliverable had a another adress but said it had been over a year for the address change so they couldn’t forward it. The funny thing is that when I opened this letter to resend it, the enclosed self address stamped envelope had a batman stamp on it which is pretty funny in itself if you know me personally.

I don’t know why the delay in sending it as I have had it for a while. So maybe the eighth letter is the charm. Maybe it will lead me to that mythical city of Reunion.

On the flip side, little baby RJ is coming soon. April 9th to be exact, barring any unforseen circumstances. I am kind of excited and kind of scared but that’s to be expected. I am taking a month off thanks to my state’s family leave policy. Gotta love that! Work is scrambling to ensure everything is covered even though I told them they could call me, but they want to ensure I don’t get called except in extreme emergencies. Gotta love them for that. Our house is filled with baby clothes and the smell of Dreft. My son says he is getting excited as well. I hope so but I am still a little worried that he will feel neglected in those first few weeks but I guess I will cross that bridge when I come to it.

Every day you may make progress. Every step may be fruitful. Yet there will stretch out before you an ever-lengthening, ever-ascending, ever-improving path. You know you will never get to the end of the journey. But this, so far from discouraging, only adds to the joy and glory of the climb.
Sir Winston Churchill (1874 - 1965)

A long time ago, in a state of mind far away, I belived that all therapists were quacks. I would hear the occasional aquaintence who would say how their therapist would tell them to get over this or that they need to do this or put them on some drug. Quacks, the lot of them.

Then my wife asked me to join her in visiting a marriage counselor when we were seperated. I resisted at first because they were quacks, quacks I tell you. What the heck is some stranger going to do for me or tell me. They don’t even know me. Aww, such a silly, silly man.

I finally broke down and went and then broke down again. And again. Several more times, in fact, since the first appointment over three years ago. Heck, other than a few times, I usually went alone and adoption was the most popular topic of discussion. I touched on emotions I never knew I had and feelings I refused to feel. She never told me what I need to do but made suggestions for my consideration. She never offered me drugs to “cure” me instead recommending writing and talking. (Heck, this blog is a direct result of that so blame her.) She never blamed or judged me. There were times I wanted to flee and times I wanted to throw a chair or pillow. Times I wanted to disappear and times I wanted the whole world to hear me. I kept at it and found a place where I could look a little into the shadows of my soul and shine some light and become comfortable with it, with me. Then again, she had this VERY annoying habit of catching something I skirted around while I talked and then question me about it. Man, I hated that but needed it as well. Now I have a better understanding of what good therapy is. It’s not about diagnosing or curing, it’s about listening first and foremost and helping the person see themselves.

Therapy is like spellchecking for the soul.

After all, you wouldn’t spellcheck a really important document you wrote would you? More than likely, you would ask someone else.

Slowly though, it’s coming to an end. The last few meetings have wound up being more a general discussion of what is going on in my life. Nothing heart-wrenching or soul-shattering. No tears or pains in the chest. A while ago, I switched from every week to every two weeks, now I am switching to once a month with the plan of stopping it. Funny how far I have come. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t mean that I am cured of all my foibles or have become the beacon to which all men should strive. However, I do have some of the tools to work in that direction though and the strength as well.

While I am happy for what I have accomplished, it’s sad too, like giving up a security blanket. At least it isn’t a closed door. I am still going to go occasionally and will always be able to go back if need be so it’s more like folding the security blanket into a drawer and hoping the moths don’t eat it.

Then again, they are all quacks right? :wacko:

Call it a clan, call it a network, call it a tribe, call it a family. Whatever you call it, whoever you are, you need one.
Jane Howard, “Families”

As I continue thinking about what makes me, me; I have to talk a bit about my grandmother. She was the type of woman who always had a kind word and a smile, and would give you her all her belongings if she thought it would make you happier in your life. She always had a pumpkin pie just for me, at the holidays, and took me out to catch my first fish. Here is a picture of me holding the flounder I caught at about 5.

Here is a picture of her and I eating that fish.

She lived near the beach so we used to collect shells and sharks teeth as well as digging up donacks for soup (small clams with brightly colored shells.) We also used to take chicken necks and go crabbing in the river.

One of the funniest stories I remember about my grandma involved mayonaise. She had come down to visit the family and we were all around the dinner table. She was talking about something and began to pour some ice tea into her glass. Unfortunately, she was about six inches off and was actually filling the mayonaise jar with tea. When she realized what she had done, she immediately stopped pouring then tried to drain the tea out of the mayo jar into her plate. It worked at first then the entire jar of mayonaise plopped right into her plate splashing tea. We couldn’t stop laughing and although it was embarrasing for her, she just kept smiling. It was one of the funniest and most human moments I’ve ever experienced.

She passed away a few years ago. I still miss her.