Confession: I’ve been a little afraid of Google for the past couple of years.

I know that I have some SIL’s that spend WAY too much time “googling” people, things, places, whatever, and seeing where it takes them. As such, I’ve had my blog set to a quasi private state….If you specifically looked up “should really be working” then yes, you’d find me. But if you typed in jury duty or face slapping (which reminds me – he’s gotta make an appearance soon…) or dirty jenga? You wouldn’t end up on MY page.

Today? Well, I suppose you could!

And maybe this is just another step in me not being so frightened.

Maybe I’m letting go of some of the paranoia that has followed me around the past 2 1/2 years.

Maybe I’m realizing, and moreover accepting, that my blog isn’t just for me…and that other people are getting something out of it.

Or maybe (probably?) I just wanna see what kind of zany word searches will bring people to my little corner of Cyberland.

I don’t have internet at my apartment right now….A long time ago Roomie and I had the internet. She moved, and our Wi-Fi went with her. Then Husker moved in and Jack and his roomie got Wi-Fi. We just got the password So we trudged along, stealing using their internet with their permission until one day Husker’s computer just wouldn’t connect!

Since I’m not as close with the neighbors as I once was (which is expected considering we were at one point, well, CLOSE!) I’m not sure what happened to their internet. We still hang out, but I don’t want to be a total jackass that goes over, grabs a beer, and like a total mooch says, “Yo, where’d your internet go? We NEED that internet!”

There are a couple other people somewhere in the complex that have Wi-Fi. Some are password protected (though admittedly, some use the very creative password of “password”) while others are just open for the taking. Problem is? We can BARELY connect to any of them. It’s like dial-up all over again! (Side note: did anyone see “The Proposal?” Cracked me up seeing dial-up again…but I digress).

SO – long story, still pretty long – I play around on the computer at work – in between very serious work related tasks of course – and that’s about it for computer access. When I have dinner at my folks house I sneak onto their computer, check emails, facebook, and all things “kosher” (which in this instance means adoption free) and that’s that. Unless I think I might get privacy in which case I can go to the website of my choice, just so long as I remember to do a quick “history delete” at the end of my cyber surfing.

But tonight? I’m at the public library.

I’ve been ending up here a couple times a week now. Sometimes for computer access, sometimes to check out or return books. It’s a nice little walk from my place, it’s free, it’s not the worst way I could spend a day off.

When I first started coming here, I was a little apprehensive. I looked around as I logged onto adoption forums, sure that they guy to my right that’s reading articles from the NY Times website is onto me. Thinking that the senior citizen to my left is reading over my shoulder, thinking about how she’ll relate my goings-on to her bridge club.

But you know what?

Nobody gives a flying fiddle what I’m doing on this computer. I mean, it’s not like there’s something offensive going on….I’m not downloading pornography (I’m sure these computers have a guard for that though….right????) or going to some scary hate sight. It’s just an adoption site!

When it hits me.

I pretty much doubt that anyone that HAS ever looked over my shoulder (because let’s face it, we sometimes look over each others shoulders) thought, “aha! It’s a birthmom using the library computers!”

I don’t know what they do think….though I fully know that 26 year olds can, and do!, adopt, I don’t assume they think I’m an adoptive Mom. Maybe they think I’m an adoptee….but I really wonder – what do they think when they look over at me – close enough to see the word “adoption” emblazoned boldly across the screen, but not close enough to see my words?

There’s a part of me that doesn’t give a hoot.

That wants my computer screen to just say, “Screw it. You know what library? I’m a first Mom. Yep. I am. And I’m using your computers so get used to it!”

I mean hey, maybe not caring what the strangers at the library think is the first, albeit very tiny step…

Ever since my thanksgivingmom email address was hacked and asked all of my friends for money, I’ve been VERY cautious of it.

As the “owner” of four email addresses, I am used to inboxes being inundated with junk. 

My oldest email address is fondly known as my junk email addy. It’s the email address where I correspond with Cyber Bestie and by Bostonian boyfriend the Patriot, but for the most part it’s where I get offers to buy tickets to sporting events, surveys, and of course, the inevitable offers to enlarge my penis. That I don’t have.

My work email is pretty consistently work based. Though I do get my electric bill, some snapfish reminders, and for some reason, notifications that I have a message on Quechup a site for which I am not a member.

I have another email that I basically created for sending out resumes. It’s the “professional” email address….but it’s also the the one I use to log into facebook with, so it generally fills up fairly quickly with all sorts of notifications telling me that I have a, well, notification. (You’re a genious Facebook).

Then there’s my thanksgivingmom email.

Until it’s hacking, thanksgivingmom was pretty spam free. I get some forum notifications, I get my blog notifications, and I correspond with the majority of my adoption related friends there. In other words – it’s adoption friendly and generally spam free.

However, since the annoying hacking of ‘09 I’m more diligent with checking my junk mail folder. I make sure to check it regularly, deleting, and marking as spam, any material that isn’t expected.

So today, I open the junk folder and I found….JUNK.

More specifically?

An invitation for me to be a surrogate.

I rolled my eyes, I deleted the junk, and I went back to find a lovely email.

A while later, another piece in my junk mail.

Another invitation to use by body as a home for the child of a stranger. 

If these invitations were nestled quietly between offers of free viagra and university of phoenix class schedules, I would likely just delete like I do the rest of the garbage that my other addresses receive.

But it wasn’t.

It was a lone piece of junk.

And what really bothers me is how I got on the mailing list for such an invitation. Because I never use this email address when I’m filling out some application. I never put this email address down if I’m on a website and they need contact information. I never publish or submit this email address anywhere.

Except here.

On my blog.

Where I’m very clearly a first Mom.

And on adoption forums.

Where I’m very clearly a first Mom.

And I don’t know – maybe all the adoptive Moms and adoptees on the forums are being inundated with the same junk, I don’t know. So I can only speak for my experience when I find it in my inbox.

But it’s pathetic.

Pathetic that someone out there is capturing this information and contacting us this way….and I know, there will be a dissenter that reads and thinks, “well, they’re just letting people know it’s an option!”

Sure…..and it’s just a coincidence that the option is being presented to women that have placed a child for adoption.

I may have been born in a hospital, but it wasn’t yesterday….

 

 

I know that this shouldn’t be surprising, and maybe the part that frustrates me so much is that I’m not surprised.

Open adoption (hell, all adoption, not to mention reunion) can be this crazy roller coaster of emotions. Don’t believe me? Read my blog! Haha.

One minute I’ll be lamenting the weeks of quiet after I’ve made contact. The next minute I’ll be practically shouting from the rooftops that I’ve got new pictures, or a new story about Cupcake. The highs, the lows, it can all be very dramatic, exciting, and exhausting.

But there’s this sense that something’s happening – even when that something is the observing that nothing is happening. (Am I losing you yet?)

Whether slowly climbing to the top of a ridge or plummeting down towards a ground that you can’t even see – there’s movement. Activity. Something that lets you know that you’re not at a standstill.

So as much as I complain about the hard things – they at least give me something to work on. To focus on. To build on.

Because recently I’m just…Here.

There’s no visit to plan, no update to send, no action to take. I just…..wait.

And tomorrow may be the day that the wait surprises me with an email blast in my inbox – something that dozens of other friends and family receive, but that has a picture of Cupcake. A story about how remarkable she is.

But tomorrow might now be as well.

And it leaves me feeling like I have nothing to write about, nothing to say…..What’s captivating about a roller coaster sitting on the tracks just waiting for the button to be pushed so that it can take off?

And it leaves me feeling empty. Like a first Mom is only really a first Mom when she’s actively being one. Sort of like that whole, if a tree falls and no one is there to hear it, does it make a noise?

The visit was hardly a month and a half ago (how can that be true???) so I know that talks of another visit won’t be in the mix for another few months….and that’s okay – I’m not pushing for another visit already, just the activity, the interaction that comes with it’s planning.

Because when that’s not happening, I sometimes feel like I’m fading away. And it’s not just that I worry I’m fading away in the minds of Dee and Cupcake, because the fact is, I don’t worry about that.

It’s something in ME, that begins to disappear. Something I don’t know how to grab and hold on to. Something that I don’t even know how to identify. Something that slips away……when I feel……I don’t know the words….

But when I feel like I feel right now.

Okay, so it’s posting a day late, but I couldn’t get to the computer yesterday…..

After a couple of years of being thrown under busses at my work, I often get a little……whiney.

My position consists of lots of behind the scenes work, with very little opportunity to take credit. Successes are seen as a “team effort,” for which my boss often gets/takes the glory. Failures? Are largely assigned to the person with the lesser title. The lesser paycheck. (Spoiler alert: that’s me).

Now, in all fairness, I don’t need or expect some grand recognition. I’m not asking for a plaque or an award. Just those tiny moments of, “Good job today” would suffice.

This week we had a mini-event. And while my boss was in “Leadership Training Seminars” (ha!) the brunt of the work fell to me. And the person doling out the duties? She knew it was going to be me, and just me, that was responsible for the success or the failure.

This woman is notoriously hard to please, a perfectionist to a fault, and while very vocal about criticisms, generally tight-lipped about success. She lives life with the mentality that things should be done correctly the first time, so why celebrate someone doing what should be done in the first place?

Today I came back from a trip to the bank to find a card on my chair.

It read:

Dear TG,

You shouldered the burden with such a short timeline and made it happen! You were gracious and efficient to the sponsors at the event and I can’t thank you enough. I could not have been able to achieve my goal of a successful evening if I didn’t have you as my right hand.

With deep appreciation,

Impossible to Please Lead Volunteer

Enclosed with the card?

A $25 gift certificate to Barnes and Noble.

THIS is what a good day at work feels like.

Everyone that’s hear stories of Cupcake and watched the video and has spent the greater part of two years following our story knows that we’ve got one wonderful, darling, unique little girl on our hands.

So I had to laugh during the last visit when this was the conversation:

Dee: So, I have a weird question to ask you.

TG: Shoot.

Dee: Is Cupcake’s birthfather by any chance Mexican?

I admit, that at first I was a bit taken aback by this question….possibly because I just know that he’s not, and possibly because I just don’t think Cupcake looks anything other than white, white, white. Another time, another birthfather? And yes, Cupcake could CERTAINLY have had some Latina in her….but no, she’s about as white as they come! haha

TG: Uh, no. No, not at all.

Understandably, I have a bit of a perplexed look – as I assume this question was not brought on by her strikingly Mexican features (which we all know she doesn’t have) and her Mother’s desire to find out from where they came.

Dee: Oh, too bad.

As I probably make more strange faces.

Dee: Well, it’s just that, I’m trying to get her into this really great private school. And you have a WAY better shot of getting in if you go to their pre-school first. And they have all these quotas that they want to fill, and the more categories you fit into the better your chances. They just want a really unique group – and I just thought that would be one last thing that could really clinch it.

To which my immediate thought was (and still is)

So – you’re telling me, that being a child, in an open adoption, placed via Safe Haven, being raised by a single lesbian Mom isn’t unique enough????

Cause when you put it that way? I think we might just have the most unique kid on the planet!

*It’s the second installment of the Open Adoption Roundtable – so be sure to make it over to Heather @ PNR where she’ll compile the list of the contributors to this weeks edition*

 

This weeks Open Adoption Roundtable should come as little surprise to anyone that’s looked at a calendar, walked into a Hallmark, or watched any television.

It’s Father’s Day on Sunday.

And while I thought I did my part by writing about Father’s Day last year, I’m going to give it another shot:

 Growing up, Father’s Day meant new neckties for Dad and outlines of my handprint. Trips to the beach for some fishing off the pier. Family barbeques as the men stood around drinking beer. And no, I’m not just clinging to stereotypes of the holiday – these are my actual memories as a child.

On a spring day in 2006, some of that changed. I was pregnant, and the man that should assume role of “Father” to our child was doing anything but.

By Father’s Day of that year, he was out of the picture, at least out of my picture. He was likely celebrating his Fatherhood with the son that he was (and I can only assume is still) parenting.

That day, I stood in my grandparents backyard as my Dad opened a card from his grandson. Inside the card was a picture of him holding a sign that said, “I’m going to be a big brother.” I watched as my family swooned together rejoicing the birth of a child that would come just fifteen days after the birth of my daughter. I watched Ram smile from ear to ear at the prospect of a second child, and I couldn’t help but contrast that to the lack of communication that I’d had with a Father that didn’t want anything to do with his second child.

Shortly after Cupcake’s birth and placement, I found out from the social worker that Cupcake was being raised by a single Mother. It never phased me, and at the time, I didn’t really stop and think about what that meant for Cupcake. I know some amazing single Moms and I know some wonderful people raised by single Moms. So I was okay. I was just happy that she was healthy, well loved, and cared for.

It was at our first visit when I found out that Cupcake would likely never have a Father – at least not in the conventional sense. Dee came out to me at our first meeting, and initially, I think I even liked the situation more now. I just pictured Cupcake being raised by this strong woman, who wanted me in her life as another strong woman, and I even made a joke that if all went well and Dee found someone to share her life with that Cupcake could end up with more Moms that she would know what to do with!

We both laughed and shared in this vision for Cupcake.

It wasn’t until later that I started to think about the implications of not having a Father.

And that was when the jealousy set in.

I hate to admit it, and I suppose when I reflected on what I wrote last year I hoped that these feelings would have subsided, but they haven’t.

I’m still jealous. I’m jealous not that I’ll share the title of “Mom” with at least one, but possibly two women, but that Cupcake’s bfather will never have to share his role. That he won’t be stepping on the toes of Cupcake’s Father. That the title is sitting there, like a prized trophy, just waiting for him to come and collect.

And I’m sure it’s not that simple, but sometimes, that’s just how it feels.

So for today, our adoption has not a Father in sight.

But tomorrow? The tomorrow that he decides to step into the picture? He’ll be able to step into that role without anyone else to challenge his position there.

And suddenly, no matter how many Mom’s, with no matter how many qualifiers the world wants to put before that title, have a place in Cupcake’s life,  there will only be one Father.

I’m not entirely sure how to even write this post….mostly because I’m not entirely sure how I feel about what my end result will be. So excuse me while I negotiate these confusing waters….

I’ve heard (read) recently the blogs, comments, forum posts, etc. from Moms that, through some “mistake” on the part of the adoption agency, hospital etc., got information on their child’s first parent(s). Many times, these Moms are reaching out to the adoption community at large, asking if they should attempt to find further information, and often, contact the first parent.

Often times, there are supportive answers of, “Sure, give it a try!” or “Contact her! I’m sure she just doesn’t realize how great OA is for the child!” These responses tend to come from folks on all sides of the triad, so I’m reluctant to say that the advice is bad.

On the one hand, I think it’s great – these aparents that are yearning to open the door of communication and create a more open relationship with their child’s first parents.

But there’s something holding me back from sharing in their excitement of this newfound information…..I mean, maybe that first Mom really did want closed adoption.

And the confusing thing about my opinion is that Dee sort of was the Mom pushing open adoption, and I was the first Mom that thought closed was right, right, right. But I suppose part of what leads me to where I am today is the way in which Dee and I connected. She heard that I’d visited Cupcake in the hospital, and hopeful that I would return again, drafted a letter and left it with the social worker.

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve thought about that moment. Because that moment – the composing of that letter – is really the pivotal moment that changed all of our lives.

But I digress. Because Dee didn’t accidentaly find out my name and contact me on Facebook. She didn’t look me up on whitepages.com and call my parents home – the number that would have come up. She very passively opened the door, and left it for me to walk through on my own time. She didn’t enter my world, but allowed and invited me into hers. And there was a difference. I was glad, yet terrified, at the prospect of taking that step.

But it still makes me wonder about the woman that chooses a closed adoption because she truly believes it’s best for her and for her child. If her information is somehow leaked to the aparents…..I suppose it just worries me this avalanche of support to “Contact her!,” and “Go for it!”

And I suppose it’s also because of the other thing that I hear, with just about as much frequency.

And those are the aparents that are terrified that their child’s first parents will find out any information about them. 

I just wonder, if the agency or hospital had an “oops” moment, and leaked the last name of the adoptive family to the first Mom, and she was asking if she should use the information to contact them, I think the responses would be so wildly different.

I doubt I would read things like, “Go for it – so many adoptive parents aren’t educated in open adoption enough, but maybe if you contacted them and told them how beneficial it could be to their child, they might change their mind!”

But I do read that sentence directed at adoptive parents. Not word for word, but the overall sentiment.

So the conclusion that I must draw is that the wishes of adoptive parents are to be respected, while the wishes of first parents are to be ignored.

That adoptive parents choose closed adoption because of long thought out processes by which they decided it was best for their child, but first parents chose closed adoption because they didn’t know enough about the alternatives.

I’m an advocate of open adoption – 100% – but there is something holding me back from joining the chorus of, “contact the first Mom!”

This post is password protected. To view it please enter your password below:

Password:

*I’ve posted this twice – once with video, and once without. I think the video fits into the post beautifully, hence not just posting the video password protected and leaving the text seperate. The text remains the same, as I wanted to share these stories with folks that don’t have the password – though if you don’t have the password, it might just be that you haven’t asked! Or that I forgot – so if you’ve asked – REMIND ME! I’m far from perfect

Oh, and also, I wrote this post weeks ago, so I apologize if it doesn’t seem incredibly up to date. I thought about rewriting, but I’d rather let the post reflect those initial, amazing, moments and reactions to them.

 

The whole visit was pretty darned awesome. But when I look back on the visit, there are those snapshot moments (no, not the ones I necessarily have actual snapshots of!) that stand out as defining moments in the visit, and in our relationships. Some of them are simple and clean and clear – others? Are admittedly a little more complex. The moment is more of a jumping off point for some big things, as opposed to a tidy little bow wrapping up a the wonderful package that day was.

And so, here are your moments:

The Bronze Medal moment was actually one of our last on the visit. The gifts had been given, the hugs were doled out, that last picture was taken. And Cupcake turned to her Mom and asked if I could come along in their car.

Though the visit was over, she wanted me to go with them. Dee let me know this was a great honor, and how she knew when Cupcake really approved of someone. Cupcake looked at me expectantly with large brown eyes, waiting for my acceptance of her offer. I thanked her VERY much for wanting me to come, but reminded her that I came in my car and that I couldn’t leave it at the park and had to drive it to my home. And that she would go to her home with her Mama.

Not entirely pleased, she accepted my gentle decline, and started on her way to the car. Dee opened up the car doors and began to put the toys, big wheels, gifts, inside. She asked Cupcake if she could show me how she could climb into her car seat like a big girl. Ever independent, she hopped right on in. Dee reached in to buckle her and Cupcake said, “NO! She do it!”

Dee laughed, stepped back, and let Cupcake have her way.

The moment of again, doing something I’ve missed every day since her birth was touching. It was so touching that Dee allowed me that experience, and touching that Cupcake wanted it. Voiced it.

I don’t take any of these actions as anything more than what they are. But I don’t take them to be anything less than what they are either.

***********

The Silver Medal moment is one of those complicated ones…..and one that you’ll be hearing about for some time in various ways as I surely ask for opinions, talk to Dee, and venture down an interesting path in our OA.

Cupcake was thirsty at the park, and since her Mom was sipping her Diet Coke, she gave Cupcake a tiny sip. Dee looked at me and shrugged her shoulders, “I feed her organic food, she never eats sweets or fast food, but until I can give up Diet Coke this is her one treat.’” I laughed totally “getting it.” Cupcake offerred me the bottle of soda next telling Dee that “This Mama needs some soda.”

Stunned silence from both myself and Dee while Cupcake stands with the bottle of soda in her extended arm. Dee took the bottle explaining to Cupcake that they don’t share bottles with others, then turning to me explaining that Cupcake was going through a phase where everyone is a Mama or a Daddy right now.

Okay.

I get that.

It just – wow – I mean, I am a Mama you know? And NO ONE really calls me a Mama…so to hear it from her mouth??? Talk about throwing me for a loop!

Now, as I’ve mentioned before, Dee always refers to me as Cupcake’s “special friend” and so I have no expectation at ALL that Cupcake would call me anything other than my name, or a friend.

Shortly after this instance with the bottle, Dee left us to sit under a tree flipping through an US Weekly. Cupcake wanted to swing – so swing we did. As she flew to and fro she announced, ”There are two Mama’s here.”

Okay, she’s bringing this conversation up – again.

“There are?”

“Yep.”

“Who?”

“That Mama (pointing to Dee) and you Mama (pointing to me).”

I was once again taken aback…..what do I do? I don’t want to be “that” First Mom that fills their child’s head with facts about how they gave birth to them before their parents are ready to have that talk, but at the same time, I’m not going to stand there and deny my daughter to her face.

So I ever so eloquently replied, “Oh, okay!”

Now, maybe she is going through a phase and calls everyone Mama – I don’t know. All I DO know, is that there were about 30 “legit” Mama’s at the park that day – and all of the other ones actually had children they were playing with. She even mentioned it again to another child as she exclaimed, “I have two Mama’s here!” Maybe she meant she was just playing with two Mamas, where most kids were playing with one. I don’t know…

So does Dee tell Cupcake who I am at home and just not reaffirm that in front of me? I mean, I know my daughter’s more than likely a genius, but even then, I don’t think this is something a 2 1/2 year old puts together entirely on their own. But she called me Mama. Not the other women we played with in the sand. Not the other women pushing their children on the swings. And no, not Punky Brewster.

She called two women Mama that day – and both of them were hers.

And the real kicker, is that it felt like Cupcake got it. 

To the critics of open adoption, believe me when I say, the roles are not confused by our children. Cupcake fell and bumped her elbow – she looked to Dee for comfort. Cupcake wanted someone to push her on the swings – she allowed me in. She’s incredibly bonded to Dee, but that doesn’t mean that we can’t find our own connection as well. Children have it in their capacity to love many people, and can be loved by many people. Even in my own OA, I never lived the experience of this before. Cupcake was too young to verbalize her understanding or her connection to us both. All of that changed at this visit. I saw with my own two eyes the link between a girl and her Mother, and a girl and her First Mother.

And yeah, to me, that’s pretty damned worthy of a Silver Medal.

*The future posts on this that I mentioned will involve when I contact Dee to talk about this occurrence – to ask her what she’s told Cupcake – and to make sure we’re all on the same page on this should it happen again in the future*

***********

And now, finally, the Gold Medal moment.

About 2/3 of the way through the visit, Cupcake and I settled in a shady corner of the playground, hidden beneath the plastic structure above, playing with buckets, sieves, and shovels. Inspired by the little boy beside her, Cupcake decided to make a volcano. She filled her bucket, added some water, flipped it over and let it sit. (Apparently sand volcanos take a great while before they’re “ready”). Upon completion of the volcano, she wanted to share in the great unvieling with her Mom.

She ran over to Dee and brought her back. I translated as Cupcake explained the process of making her “cano” and what exactly it was we were looking at here (as, tragically, her volcano was little more than a rectangular pile of sand). Dee told her it was a beautiful volcano. Cupcake promptly announced, “That’s all – bye!” and Dee laughed at her, said she was glad she was so comfortable with me, turned, and went back to her shady spot under a tree.

It was then that Cupcake looked at me and made an announcement. One that stunned me. One that she was excited to reiterate over and over again. Thus making it one that I was fortunate enough to catch on video. It’s a video that I’ll cherish forever – as it’s records a “first” in our relationship.

*Okay, really – THIS is where the video goes – so if you are reading this without the password, and you want to have the password – email me! If I don’t “know” who you are (like if you’re just generally a lurker – which is fine!) drop me a line about who you are, how you came to my page, whatever! And I’ll send you the password*

You’ll hear me in the background asking, “Who?” Not to challenge her assertion, but I think because I wanted to be 100% sure she was really talking about me!

You’ll also hear me say a very lame, “Thank you” – believe me, as soon as I turned off the video I swept her gently into my arms, nuzzled her, and said the words back to her.

It was freaking awesome. And the most amazing moment…….an amazing, awesme, gold medal moment for us.