In Times Like These

Are you reading Dresden's "In Times Like These" series? You should be. She's compiling real people, telling real stories about their experiences with public assistance.
I'm sharing my perspective over there today.

This is one of those topics, kind of like miscarriage and loss (and I include the grief of infertility here), that people talk about in the abstract. It's easier that way. It's easier to paint in broad strokes when you aren't the one getting smothered by the brush. The more that I think about it, so many parallels can be drawn.

It comes down to this: Bad things can and do happen to good people. Through no fault of their own. And that is a very hard thing for most people to wrap their heads around. It's far easier to say, help yourself out of your mess. (in babyloss terms: Get over it. Move on. Why are you wallowing? There will be others.....) rather than extend a hand and some compassion.

I am always surprised when I get to know someone a little better, well enough to slip in a mention of our babies and maybe even this blog and boom, another shared story of infertility unfolds. But why? Why should I be? Just like infertility and loss, I am guessing the need for public assistance in some shape or form is a part of the realities of a lot of people that we know, that I know. I just don't know that piece of their story yet.

I love Dresden already. But projects like hers make my heart swell.

Words matter. And they can be used to do some amazing things. Like change minds. Widen perspectives. Offer solidarity. Invite hope.

Getting Social

I tread this fine line between most of you knowing me (as in, my real name) but not all of you. Some of my IRL friends and colleagues knowing this is my space, but most not. Between guarding my privacy here but letting a link to the real world slip out now and then (but usually not the other way round.) I love for you to know me here first, and then elsewhere. And I always do a private happy dance when one of you finds your way to my FB and friends me. But I'm not too keen on that becoming a reverse trend - others from other circles finding their way into here. Oohh look! It's a post about me! Oooh errr, ah, hmmm.

But I've been bugged about not using all of the tools that are available to me to share what I want to say. For the most part, I'm pretty proud of what I've written (and what I write) here and I wouldn't mind it having a larger audience. Especially when the conversations are important. So, I've finally done what most of you did ages ago - created a new FB page solely for the Maybe Baby blog, along with a shiny new twitter handle.

Ta da!!

http://www.facebook.com/themaybebaby
http://www.twitter.com/maybebabyblog

If you are friends/followers with me on those spaces under different names, please stay! You'll miss my political rants, I know you will! This isn't an attempt to slice this chunk of my life away from there - it's an attempt to get myself a little more out there without completely revamping my existing spaces and cleaning out the lobbyists and the legislators and the work colleagues and the local peeps and everyone else that doesn't need to be up in this business.

So, please consider joining me in these new spaces. And if you'd like to link or list or favorite, please know you are welcome to do so. And thank you.

Sharing Truths - Part 2

Confession: I still have a few more blogs to go on the Found Book Tour, and I know more will be posted tomorrow, but I need to take a break. I'm exhausted. I'm not saying this isn't an important conversation to have - I'm saying it's very similar to the one I have in my head on a near-daily basis.

I've come across so much insight and so many thoughtful explanations of people's positions within the realm of adoption. I think the one that stands out most for me right now is this:

There is no place for the word "just" in this discussion. As in, why don't you just..... you all know how this sentence ends.

To assume that putting together a family from the remnants of another, or to plan to expand your family by bringing in someone else's genetics or womb into the mix, or to work through how and when a birth family will interact with your new one....to assume that these things are easy or fast or simple decisions, ones done without nights awake and therapists or counselors on speed dial, simply discredits everyone involved. We should start a petition to ditch that word, at least from this conversation. Who's with me?

Things I think about every night:

Origin stories. How to answer the "where do I come from?" How to explain why mommy and daddy didn't just fall in love and have you in mommy's belly like every one else....how to accurately and honestly respond to these future questions, along with ones of identity and belonging and who are my people, and are you my real mommy or not? How to ensure my own baggage doesn't get in the way of my future child's....

But what parent doesn't have baggage?
And why do I assume my future child will have baggage?

Why do I anticipate this primal wound even though I am really unclear as to where that theory fits in situations that aren't black and white. What if there were my genetics, but not my womb? What if my genetics were missing, yet I carried a child in my body? What if, as Esperanza notes, all parties are present and there is nothing but love surrounding a child when they greet the world? Now, how about this one: not my eggs, not my womb, but I've been present from conception? Wishing it so, willing it so? Where will I fit into this situation?

Hopefully, we'll see.

All of this to say, as one of the other book reviewers already have, The Primal Wound is simply way too simplistic of a concept to be helpful. I want a new theory.

I also want to take this space to elaborate on some of the comments and questions that emerged from my responses to the book. I thought about continuing this conversation in the comments, because there is such a robust discussion there, but I'm terrified that blogger will zonk out on me mid-sentence, as it is want to do. So if I stop making sense, go there, read that first, then come on back.

Like Jennifer Lauck, adoption is not a path we have chosen to explore. Not yet. Unlike her, I can't say that we won't, because I've muttered those words about surrogacy. Things change. It is very very hard to say it's not a path you would pick for yourself if it becomes the only path that is available to the one thing you want and desire more than anything in the world - to be a mother.

I wholeheartedly disagree with this statement: " I equate being adopted to being a slave." Because all children, in one way or another, are "forced to perform for the emotional needs of our keepers." It is quite an enlightened parent that has no emotional need for their child, that doesn't rely on them to fill or complete something within them. As much as you want your child to be his or her own person, you also want them to want you, to love you, to need you on some levels. This is not slavery. This defines just about every human relationship that I know. We all have needs and we all strive to be the ones that fill those needs for others.

And speaking of relationships, here is something that has struck me:

Where is the father in this conversation? Why have we given no credence to the birth father? The adopted father?

In my personal experience, my birth father was rendered just as helpless, perhaps moreso, than my birth mother. He had no say over my fate. He was forbidden to see her, or me. He could have easily forgotten about this "phase" in his young life. But he was the one that marked my birthday on his calendar for 35 years. He is the one that wept uncontrollably at our reunion. He is the one, not my birth mother, that yearned to reconnect. Desperately. And I think his place in this story should be respected and recognized, and I think he has suffered immensely throughout his life because it never was.

I cannot imagine he is alone.

I'm signing off for today using Heather's words. And she has no idea how timely the second piece of it is since M and I were just debating if it is really ok to dislike a child and think they are an asshole (my opinion: yes. We can all blog about that one later). But here's how Heather sums things up:

I think both adoptive and biological families have an equal likelihood of being fucked up, and the level of fucked-upedness very much depends on how open and honest everyone is with each other. And even with complete open-ness and honesty, some people, even kids, can just be assholes and there isn't anything you can do to stop it.

Can I get an Amen?

Thank you ALL for your respectful input into this conversation that I know is going to continue, as it should.

Sharing Truths - Found: A Memior, part of the AdoptLit Book Tour

Whoa. I didn't mean to write a novella. I really didn't. But I've been sitting on this for a while. This morning, it all came out.

Let me back up and tell you what I'm talking about: this morning, I'm taking part on the AdoptLit Book Tour hosted by the ever-lovely Lori. The selection is: Found: A Memoir

And my bit is below.

To continue to the next leg of this book tour, please visit the main list at The Open Adoption Examiner. I am really looking forward to hearing the varied perspectives here.

**

Time and time again as I was reading passages in Jennifer Lauck’s latest book Found: A Memoir, I had to put the book down, step away, breathe. At times because I felt so diametrically opposed to what the narrator was saying. Angry. Hurt. At times because the familiarity was too much to bear. On too many levels.

It is so hard to assess or critique a memoir. Harder than any piece of fiction or third party account. This is someone’s truth. How do you separate someone’s truth from the story being told and how the narration flows? How do you deduct style points from words so connected to someone’s life and essence? Can you?

In this particular instance, I can’t. So, what you’ll find here is me attempting to make sense of the myriad of emotions and reactions I felt (as a fellow adult adoptee from a closed adoption, mother of two dead children, and someone actively pursuing a family through surrogacy and donor eggs) reading and reflecting on Found: A Memoir.

Luckily, I have some questions to guide me. And I’ll get to those in just a bit.

The first 70 pages of Found were a struggle for me. I felt detached from the narrator, purposefully pushed away. And I was annoyed. Until I recognized the tactic.

The passive voice, the absence of emotion, speaking almost nonchalantly about life-changing events…this was my m.o. after we lost our daughters. It’s how I functioned when I was forced to function. “Life had been brutal to me and I’d go ahead and be brutal in return.” (28) It is that gray area between going for shock value and simply attempting to cope.

I found myself being pulled further into the story as Jenny reads through the non-identifying information of her birth parents for the first time (77). The dizziness, the room spinning, your reality completely altered but not really. Assurances, suspicions confirmed, new information revealed. Oh yes. I get that. In fact, I wrote about it here.

But just as I would develop a connection with the narrator, I would be pushed away again.

As someone who does not have living children, I felt a little dissed by the author's assertions that being a mother brings clarity that is otherwise impossible to have. Did others read this the same way? Do you agree? Disagree?

(I wonder if it’s cheating to answer your own question? I’m so eager to read how others respond to this.)

For me, the author’s voice shifts dramatically any time she is near her own children. And she states more than once that it wasn’t until she became a mother herself that she realized the loss of her own mother and need to reconnect. It’s true, my own search began after the birth of our daughters. My rationale was different:

Why are you choosing to search? I know what it is like to lose a daughter and to live with that loss every day. I would like to bring some peace and some closure to my birth parents, if I am able.

In my mind, I wasn’t the one who lost out.

The author holds motherhood, specifically to one’s own genetically linked children, as sacred. I wonder for someone who has experienced so much loss and deprivation if she realizes what a place of privilege she is speaking from? At these points in the book I read the tone as condescending (if I were a mother, I’d understand…) and felt my loss and inability to be a mother acutely. It stung. And made me resentful. These were the times I had to remind myself over and over again: this is not MY story. This is not my truth. It is hers.

And this is where discussing a memoir is so damn tough. Because just as I decide, “that’s it. I’m done,” I read a passage like the one on page 105 when Jenny’s adopted friend simply can’t understand why she wouldn’t want to search for her birth mom too:

“I bet your mother is waiting for you too.”
“What if she’s not?”

Yes, what if she’s not?

If a first mother is not willing to have contact with her child or adoptive family, is it prudent to attempt to compel the first mother into an open relationship?

It’s hard to read Jenny’s birth mom here – her intentions, her emotions. All we can see is what Jenny wants her to be. How the narrator perceives these things. It’s the only filter we have. Did Catherine really want a reunion or was she coerced into it? Guilted into it? Or is she far more complex than outward appearances? We can only wonder, just as the narrator does.

My truth is that my birth mother would rather not see me. She knows I’m looking. She’s spoken with the agency social worker and said, yeah, um, no thanks. Her rationale? I was told she’s a counselor and knows “reunions are never what either party wants them to be. They can never meet expectations. I would rather know she’s ok and leave it at that.” That’s what I was told.

Again, just like Jenny’s mom, who knows what else lurks beneath the surface. Shame? A desire to forget? Regret? Simply not wanting a life to be disrupted? I don’t, I can’t know.

My birth father, who was overjoyed to meet me, can’t understand why I’m not furious. I can’t explain it. I get it. In fact, I kind of like her more? Because it feels like something I would do. God, what an asshole.

In fact, the more stories I hear about her, the photos I see, the things I pick up from her once lover, my birth father, convince me that we are probably 100% alike.

And would probably annoy the shit out of each other. Because we’re like that. (I think)

Back to the question: I don’t think anyone should be compelled into a relationship they don’t want. What is the value? Beginning with a tone of obligation? Compliance? These are emotions I hate most in any family dynamic. I would never want to be the source of them. Here’s what I think is non-negotiable: non-identifying information, health records, a name – your name, the one you had when you were born.

As to reunions, man they are hard. No matter how you slice them. There is the initial honeymoon, that moment you have been looking for your entire life , almost immediately followed by a shitload of questions and existential angst, and then, alas, the dénouement aka, the let down.

While my birth mom said no thanks, my birth father said oh yes please and let’s be best friends and you can come over, right? It was all a little much. There was no time spent “building bridges of trust” (202) no caution taken. (did I mention the time he pointed out the park he and my BM used to have some fun, heh heh heh? Cringe.) But we’re getting past that now.

The centerpiece of a reunion isn’t necessarily the people whose loins you’ve passed through. For me, it was getting to know my birth aunt. For Jenny, it seems as if that connection was made with her sister. There is a knowing. “This is the way my people are” (212) that just might make it worth it.

The detachment, anger and loss I read in the author's voice at times made me question my own pursuit of a child that will not be genetically linked to me. For others who have or may be pursuing parenthood through adoption or third party reproduction, did anything in the book give you pause? Make you question how your family has come together?

Again, disclaimer, I’m answering my own question. For me, the answer is hell yes. I grew really tired of hearing about the Primal Loss and irreparable damage. As my non-adopted husband constantly reminds me, “we’re all damaged, babe.”

Issues around identity, origin, connectedness – I think about this shit nonstop, as I am sure many, many people who have built families through nontraditional means do. I believe there is a balance between recognizing and honoring origins and finding a space of love and acceptance in a family that is not genetically yours. These things can co-exist. I believe this. I HAVE to believe this.

A passage that gave me chills was when Jenny and Catherine are looking at one of Jenny’s baby photo – one where she’s “stiff-arming” her adopted mom. (195) Holy shit. This is something I do even now. Try to hug me when I’m not down with it, you’ll feel my entire body go rigid. My jaws clench. Uninvited physical contact = shudder. Step off homey, you don’t know me like that. But wait, are you saying this is because I’m adopted? That I’ve been trained to do this from day one? I’m a little incredulous at that assumption. I think I just don’t like other people touching on me.

But still, the stiff arm. It is a monumental fear. Hell, I’ve even dreamt about it.

It’s the constant wonder – what if I don’t pass the test?

If there were any doubts left about how the author really feels about adoption, she lays it out in the Endnote. Is this a full on condemnation of adoption? Is there no scenario in which an adopted child grows up totally normal? Are you telling me I was screwed the moment the docs plucked me? Are my non-genetically linked future maybe children destined to the same fate?

I can’t, I won’t, believe it.

Found: A Memoir is Jenny Lauck’s truth. I can honor her story and her expression of it. I can also share with you a little bit of mine.

Thank you, Jenny, for being open to this conversation.

Almost Ready....

Good morning, early risers!

If you've tuned in to check out my portion of the AdoptLit Book Tour for Found, A Memoir, it's almost ready. Post coming shortly. Promise.

It's 2012 and I Have Presents for You!

Ok, don't get excited. That title may be a little misleading. I mean, yes, it IS 2012. That part is true. I don't really have physical presents that I'm handing out to each of you. I'm just in a great mood this morning and I've got some stuff I'd like to share:

1.) The 2011 Creme de la Creme is up and over 200 posts deep. Holy shmoly. My iPad and quiet Sunday afternoons were made for this. This may take me more than one weekend to get through. And yes my submission is a little corny, but I liked it at the time.

2.) You can get a free cookbook from Earthbound Farms today. Like, today only.

3.) Speaking of salads, there are some over at Oh She Glows that make my mouth water every time I look at them. I cannot wait to make them. I wanted to share this link with you in case "eat healthier" or "eat less meat" or "eat more veggies" or anything like that just happened to be on your list of resolutions this morning.

4.) And speaking of vegan, I tried two new recipes this weekend and both of them rocked my world. Want them?

I've tried a handful of falafel recipes and this is truly the first one that has NOT resulted in a crumbly, greasy chickpea mess. Sure you can buy the mix in the box, but this is cheaper, and better. Warning: it makes a ton, so unless you're crazy about pitas, you may want to cut the recipe in half.

We kicked off 2012 this morning with some fresh coffee, OJ and the most delicious french toast I've ever made. I should probably note that I've never made french toast before, but I've eaten it plenty. This gem comes from Alicia Simpson's Quick & Easy Vegan Comfort Foods and it took all of 10 minutes to throw the whole thing together. Here it is (with my two cents in parens):

1 cup plain soy milk (any non-dairy milk works. We use rice milk)
1/4 chickpea flour
1/4 tsp ground cinnamon
1/4 tsp grated nutmeg
1/2 tsp vanilla extract
canola oil
6 slices whole grain bread (honestly, whatever you've got works. It's french toast)

(I'm paraphrasing the directions)
In a shallow dish, whisk together the milk and flour. Then add the cinnamon, nutmeg and vanilla.
Heat a large skillet over medium heat (my vote is actually medium high) and add enough oil to cover the bottom of the pan (I would use a little less if you like your toast to have some crunchy brown edges).
Dredge each slice of bread in the milk mixture and add to the pan. Cook until each side is golden brown. About 2-3 minutes each side.
Serve with maple syrup or whatever you like to drizzle on your morning shtuff.

5.) And last, but not least, here is a link to one of my new favorite websites. If you're looking to fill your new eReader, notebook or whatever with some quality content, go here for links to free eBooks, free movies, free courses....it's simply an amazing collection. For free.

And there you are.

2011 in Review

I've been struggling with a way to summarize 2011, especially since I was a little lax on the blogging this year. Mom got new hips, then broke one, then got it fixed again. Dad got cancer. M. started a journey, only to decide after a few months it really wasn't for him. I applied for a handful of new jobs, got none, but found a little bit of peace in the one I have. We got on a plane and took a huge trip. I came home and had a bit of an existential freak out (every year needs at least one, right?) We got serious about gestational surrogacy - first working with one agency, now starting with another one. Still no house, still no baby. But I still managed to wear myself out most of the time.

This week, I've slept. A lot. And lounged. And watched movies with M. Well more like a few movies and then a lot of documentaries, animal planet, reality TV and Beavis and Butthead.

It's been awesome.

Sure, I got a few things done in between all of that. But not nearly as much as my ambitious little mind had planned. Oh well, tomorrow's another year.

Which brings me to the point of this post. I borrowed this from Loribeth. You can see her answers here. You can check mine out below. And feel free to play along. Who doesn't like a meme?

**

1. Did you keep your new year’s resolutions, and will you make more for next year?

Hmm, let's see. Last year I said my plan was:

• to see myself published
• to open our home to more people more often
• to practice more gratitude and patience with my parents and show less anger
• to run at least 3 half-marathons

Well, one out of 4 isn't bad, right? I haven't been published beyond the usual venues - press releases and newsletters from work - but I have been making more of an effort to get my employer in the news. So, lots on the work front, but that's not really what I meant.

I don't think we had more visitors in 2011 than before.

Half-marathons = 0.

But, I've been working hard with my parents. And believe me it has NOT been easy with one of them.

As for next year, I'm not really trusting my 1-3 record, so I'm not sure if putting more to paper (or screen) will help. Perhaps I'll just work a little harder on these 4.

If we're talking about outcomes, I would love to leave 2012 with a baby, a house and a puppy. BHD. That's our mantra. That's the trinity. Right there.

2. What did you do in 2011 that you’d never done before?

Went to Australia. Spent 14 hours on a plane. Snorkeled the Great Barrier Reef. Put a bid on a house.

3. Did anyone close to you give birth?

M's sister and my cousin welcomed baby girls into the world. Both this March.

4. Did anyone close to you die?

Not that I know IRL, but blog friends suffered some awful losses this year.

5. What countries did you visit?

Australia. We had a layover in New Zealand. Does that count?

6. What would you like to have in 2012 that you lacked in 2011?

See #1.

7. What date(s) from 2011 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?

Is it bad if I say none?

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?

Not disowning my father. Seriously.

9. What was your biggest failure?

Not showing my mom the compassion she needed when she needed it most.

10. Did you suffer illness or injury?

Phew. No.

11. What was the best thing you bought?

Plane tickets to Australia.

12. Whose behaviour merited celebration?

We were blessed with so much kindness and generosity in Australia, I'm not really sure what we did to deserve it. We knew M's cousin's old roommate had a tent for us to borrow. We didn't know he would also share his cooler, his camping stove and two more containers of items that made this the most luxurious camping we've ever done, oh yes, AND A CAR.

If that wasn't enough, he pointed us towards all of his favorite camping haunts, and his mom's house in beautiful Hervey Bay, where we spent more than a couple nights drinking tea and listening to this bad ass woman from Tasmania who still swims in the ocean on nice days.

Every day brought new conversations, new people to know.

Australia, I heart you. I am sorry for saying a bad thing about you, ever.

13. Whose behaviour made you appalled and depressed?

Far right politicians whose tea party antics costs us several hundred dollars while we watched the debt ceiling debates go on and on and the American dollar drop lower and lower and lower. If fucking with money isn't enough, those same politicians also seem keen on sticking their fingers up my vagina and keeping them there to make sure I don't get any funny ideas and you know, think for myself.

14. Where did most of your money go?

See #11

15. What did you get really, really, really excited about?

See #11

16. What song will always remind you of 2011?

For better or worse, probably this one.

17. Compared to this time last year, are you: (a) happier or sadder? (b) thinner or fatter? (c) richer or poorer?

I seem to be holding steady on all of the above.

18. What do you wish you’d done more of?

Running. Cooking at home. Creating quality time with friends. Clearly separating work and free time.

19. What do you wish you’d done less of?

Eating french fries and pizza. Procrastinating.

20. How did you spend Christmas?

Like we usually do. Eve with my family. Day with M's.

21. Did you fall in love in 2011?

I am completely smitten with my cousin's baby girl and I never would have called that.
PS - she adores me too.

22. What was your favorite TV program?

We seem to be on a bit of a Top Chef bent. But the new Beavis and Butthead has me loving them all over again. Thanks to Netflix, we've exhausted every episode of every season of Black Adder and The IT Crowd (which I highly recommend to anyone who has ever been responsible for even a remote part of your work's IT. "have you tried turning it on?")

23. Do you hate anyone now that you did not hate this time last year?

As Loribeth aptly put it, hate is a strong word. There are actions and words and behaviors that have turned my stomach, but I've been trying to see beyond them. I'm not always successful, but I've been trying damn hard to keep my temper in check. So no, no one I hate. Disappointed in, yes. Hate, no. Hate takes a lot of energy and effort that could be put to such better uses.

24. What was the best book you read?

The Thorn Birds: A Novel Don't laugh. I didn't read much this year.

25. What was your greatest musical discovery?

VILIFY. This woman. My god. She rocks my world.

26. What did you want and get?

These bad boys.

27. What did you want and not get?

A baby. A house. A puppy.

28. What was your favourite film of this year?

I honestly cannot think of a film that blew me away this year.

29. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?

I seriously cannot remember. I am sifting through both my blog and my calendar for clues, which tells me it wasn't terribly memorable. Boo. I turned 37.

30. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?

Must I state the obvious?

31. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2011?

I'm trying to find that balance between professional and edgy. Like a suit with an unexpected shirt underneath or funky necklace peeking out. Or trousers and a basic sweater with some sexy shoes hanging out below.

32. What kept you sane?

M.
Running, which is why I should do more of it.
Blogging, which is why I should do more of it.
You.

33. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?

Last November's concert rekindled my crush on Greg Dulli, even if he is a little chubbier these days. As for pure, hot fancy - Randy Orton is the only fellow I can envision right now. And that makes me a little embarrassed. So just keep that one to yourselves.

34. What political issue stirred you the most?

Stirs. Present tense. Any threat to my reproductive rights. Any attack on the people with disabilities that I represent.

35. Who did you miss?

Isa. Jovi. My grandfather (still). My grandmother has been appearing in my dreams all week and I'm just a little unnerved by that.

36. Who was the best new person you met?

Too many to mention. See #12.

37. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2011.

That you cannot ask apples of an orange tree. I didn't make that up. My acupuncturist gets credit for that one.

38. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year.

I'm that girl who has a lyric to sing for everything that's going through my mind or happening in front of me. So its hard for me to find one line to sum up this year. I'm going to chew on this one for a while. Let me get back to you.

**

And just like that, there's only an hour and a half left in this year. I'm setting the computer aside and taking my place next to M on the couch. I think there's some bread pudding and wine calling my name.

Later Gators! Happy New Year!