Adoption Month

A month that is supposed to bring awareness of adoption and promote adoption for children whose parents have lost their parental rights. A month when those children who want to be adopted are highlighted. Right off the bat I ran into tweets about celebrating adoption month by people who had recently adopted newborns, pretty much slapping each other on the back in celebration of reducing abortions. SMDH

 

I’m hard on adoptive parents for a reason

I’ve been pretty hard on the choices some adoptive parent have made lately and will be hard on them in the future. I’ve also held other adoptive parents up as doing it right and will do so in the future. What I won’t do is stay silent when I see something I feel is wrong that has the potential to harm adoptees; whether it’s a law, policy, a stupid meme or adoptive parents acting badly.

 

Both/And vs. Either/Or

It’s a rare adoptee who would fit into the Either/Or category people like to paint us as, instead try seeing us as Both/And.

 

Deep thoughts

The word melancholy came into my mind this morning that seemed to explain how I’m feeling. When I looked up the definition to make sure it fit, the last definition does: a pensive mood. That’s how I feel, pensive. I’ve been pondering lately on what’s happening to this world, to humanity. I’ve mulled on both the current and the past, and then, with Senator John McCain’s passing all my feelings coalesced into this feeling of pensiveness.

 

Twas the day before Christmas Eve…

And I think an open thread might be a good idea for those who just want a space to chat, whether it’s about the holidays past or present, or you just want to hang out with friends who get it.  Talk about joy, sadness, hope, memories, favorite movies, what you’re doing, things that went right this year, even if you’re just feeling Bah Humbug or want to just say Hi and Merry Christmas to all. 

 

It’s over…

It’s over, finally over, it’s also just beginning.  I wish them well.

Dad given custody of daughter secretly adopted 9 years ago

The post below was titled Father’s Day posted last June and delves into the back story with links…

 

From the archives 2013: Dad…

 

Dad is often in my mind and this week has been no different.  He didn’t suffer fools easily, had few words, but gave far more of himself to his family and community than he ever received in return.  Now days, I think of him often when I read about the grief of infertility and how it is hard to go to baby showers, and see others create families without any apparent struggle.

I think of the grace and strength that dad had every single day, because you see, he was the man who delivered babies, many babies, over many decades, some at home, some in hospital. 

 

Memories…

When I was two, I fell down the stairs and landed face down on the cement floor of the basement.  I lost a front tooth.  I screamed, cried, and carried on until dad picked me up and carried me back up stairs.  I have flash memories of falling down the stairs, hitting the floor, dad carrying me back up holding me on his left side.  What dad was wearing is also part of that memory.

 

Dad

I’ve talked about dad often on the blog, and with today being Father’s Day, I tried to figure out what else I could say, that I haven’t already said.  I mulled on this most of yesterday, had some thoughts, tossed them, mulled some more, and this morning I’m still not sure so here’s some of those thoughts from yesterday.

 

Father’s Day…

There’s a father whose been fighting for 8 years to parent his daughter.  He’s had to fight in both Utah and Colorado courts.  Can you imagine the heartache?  The devastation?  All the time lost?  Every first he will never witness?  The memories they should have made together?  The emotional toll?  And he’s still fighting.

This is a Father… 

 

Apparently, I wasn’t happy…

Although I haven’t shared my adoption story here, and likely won’t ever, I have shared parts in other places, and perhaps even here that I wasn’t happy when I came home.  The reality was that for months on end, I screamed unless I was sleeping, or being rocked which helped in the moment, but one other action made me calm…

 

Grandpa and Dad…

(not really adoption related)

Dad was a storyteller.  He loved telling stories about his relatives, his dad, other people, things that had happened that he found interesting.  All told with his slowly spoken words that highlighted his dry wit, they also included tiny little interesting tidbits woven in.  I never stopped and wondered where his gift of storytelling came from, until I began going through grandpa’s last journal, an odd collection of deep thoughts, ramblings, intermixed with stories of yesteryear, and poems, then it became obvious that dad got his gift of storytelling from his dad.