Courage ~ Telling The Story of My Whole Heart

I took one of those facebook quizes the other day ~ What Is Your Spirit Stone?  I got:

Fire Agate - This stone represents courage. You are a true leader in your circle of friends and you're someone people look up to. You may come across as intimidating to some people, but you really are a good person. Just make sure that you don't get too courageous, and do something dangerous.

I posted on fb that I would never have considered myself courageous until these last few years. That I attribute reunion and the process of healing from the loss of my son to that...

Suz commented that she thinks of me as courageous.  That really surprised me because it's not an attribute that I have ever thought I had.  I've been pondering on this off and on for several days now.   

Yes, I do speak out about my adoption story.  I do speak out on forums, blogs, fb about the truth of adoption loss in my life.  

But I do it anonymously.  Mostly.  I have let some of the "adoption world" onto my "real life" fb page.  But not much of it.  (I can't really share much there, since Christopher, his wife, and his mom are on my friends list there.)  Most of my advocating is done through this blog, my "Finding Christopher" email and fb page.  

So.  Not so courageous after all...  

The first person in my "real life" that I told about the blog was my daughter ~ and it scared me to death knowing that she was going to read my heart here.  For I felt as Anna Nalick sings "I feel like I'm naked in front of the crowd, cause these words are my diary, screaming out loud..."  

I recently also told Christopher about this blog, worried that he might find it by accident since I had started letting some of the adoption world onto my personal fb page.  So far he says he doesn't want to read any of what I have written here.  I was surprised that instead of feeling complete relief at that I was disappointed instead.

I have only briefly considered telling any of my closest friends about my writing, letting them know that my advocating for adoptee rights goes much deeper than just that.  

However...

Since taking that silly spirit rock quiz, I've been finding myself ready to share my whole story, to share all of me.  

After all, my daughter read this online diary of mine and it wasn't the end of me.  

Maybe it's time for me to start telling the story of my whole heart...

*my first post is here

A Light Through The Darkness of Adoption Loss

Artwork from Ordinary Courage

I know I've been quiet lately.  I have been focusing on the good in my life, making brighter my "light from within".

I am so thankful for everyone and everything that has helped me find that light after being lost in the dark of adoption loss for so very, very long. 

The one who has made the biggest difference in my life at this stage is Christopher's mom.  I cannot put into words how much brighter my world became by meeting and being fully accepted by her. 

Lately in adopto-land there has been much written about adoptive parents keeping the natural mothers and families away from their children (infants to adults).  If they could only know, if only some would care, what a difference they could make in the loss and grief felt by those who lose loved-ones in adoption. 

A mother of adoption loss has no idea what life is actually going to be like without her child.  It should be expected that the moms are going to have a hard time, that she's going to be grieving.  That grief should not scare away the adoptive parents. 

I would hope that it would have them instead showing some compassion.  

I would hope that it would have the adoptive parents wanting to help ease the moms heart and mind.  Instead, I see so many cases where the adoptive family turns their back on the mother turning the blame back onto that mother.  They tell themselves and others that the mother wasn't "going on with her life" or some such crap.  They excuse away the true reasons they are uncomfortable in the face of the grief. 

By turning away from the mother (and father, siblings, extended family), they are only adding to the grief and loss.  Nothing will take away the grief, but many things will certainly add to it!  A letter, a note, some photos and/or videos, promised visits can go so far in helping a mother cope with the grief and loss of a child to adoption.  Keeping communication open will help her find acceptance and help her see that her child has loving parents who only want the best for the child.

One of my on-line friends has been shut out of her child's life.  The adoptive parents have pulled far away from the open adoption that was promised.  Leaving a mother, father, and sibling heart-broken.  Yes, the adoptive familiy would have to face the grief of this left-behind family ~ but in facing the grief they could relieve a lot of it too.  I just can't imagine being the kind of person who couldn't open my heart to help another out of their grief.  A small act by the adoptive family could have an enormous effect on the family left behind.  How can they deny that?  I will never understand. 

Not only is an adoptive family hurting the natural family left behind, they are hurting the very child they claim to love. 

The denial of adoptive parents does not take away the importance of or the need of those adopted to know their first chapter.  It only builds upon the loss and makes it even greater. 

If you have adopted or are planning on adopting and 

won't understand and honor the place of the 

natural family in your child's life ~ then please don't adopt. 

It's pretty simple really.  I don't understand what is so hard about it.  A child doesn't just appear out of nowhere.  A child is born to a mother, created by that mother and a father.  The story behind the conception and/or birth doesn't matter ~ the story doesn't change the simple fact that a child is born to two people and their families (past, present, and future). 

A child being given up for adoption and adopted by another family doesn't take away their first, biological, natural family ~ it only adds more family. 

If you have or are planning on adopting and you can't accept the fact that your child has another family, then you aren't offering your child unconditional love.  You are putting conditions on their very existence. 

As adoptive parents, you have the ability to make the choice for adoption either bearable or something that breaks a person.  

I am so very happy and thankful that Christopher got a mother and father who adopted out of love.  They never denied their daughter and son their beginnings.  They never denied my relationship with our son.  I was accepted into open arms and with a loving heart.  By openly accepting me as a part of their son's life, they have showed me love.  Love that allowed the light within me to grow stronger. 

The light of their love and acceptance of me shines brightly 

through the darkness of the loss of my son to adoption.  

I wish all mothers of adoption loss could know that love and acceptance. 

I wish that all adoptive parents would act out of love and not fear.  

For their own sake, for the natural families and for their adopted loved ones. 

Letting Go

From this quote at the very beginning of the blog post on Metta Drum, I was intrigued...

We only become what we are by the radical and deep-seated refusal of that which others have made of us.

Jean-Paul Sartre

The following is my rambling brain trying to talk my way through the meaning of Daniel's post (which is in the brown all-caps text) in regards to my life.   This post is just a rambling mess, as are my thoughts...

Lately I've been exploring this idea of transformation as letting go. Letting go of what I no longer resonate with, and nurturing the deeper "me" underneath all that, instead of trying to patch myself up in an attempt to become something new and improved. 

I did let go of that confused, scared, all-alone-in-the-world 15 year old girl who had to give her son up for adoption.

Now I want to let go the wanting more.  I know that there IS no more to be had.  In order to have the more that my heart and soul search for, I would have had to raised my son. In order to have more, my son would also want to have more.

I want to let go of the hurt.  Is there a way to heal the hurts of losing a child to adoption?  Not to just accept it, but to heal it?

I feel that I am a new and improved version of myself ~ having come out of the adoption closet, out of the denial, I've gotten rid of the false beliefs.  But is there more than that?  Can I get to the deeper “me” underneath all of that?

Scraping the layers of paint and dirt off of the mirror, so to speak.

I think we lose sight of who we are when we find ourselves identifying with the paint and the dirt. We think all those layers of "stuff" define us, and then we feel defective. So we try to become less of this, and more of that.

In this way, we continually create a distorted, unsatisfying sense of Self.

You won't find any long-term solutions in the less of this, more of that approach. Instead, consider the idea that the You you've been searching for is already present within you, just waiting for conscious connection. Let go of the idea that you need fixing, because deep down, you aren't really broken. 

Am I really not broken?  I'm Christopher's mother ~ I gave birth to him.  Yet I didn't raise him.  Yet my heart and soul feel him as my son.  Yet...  It's an endless circle.

The truth of the matter is that I gave birth to a son who is not in my life as my soul yearns for him to be.  Is the conscious connection that needs to be made just the "knowing" that I am indeed a mother to my firstborn child?  That I'm not just a "birthmother"  (God, I HATE that word!)  I think I have scraped some of the layers off ~ I no longer look at myself as a "birthmother", I now know that I was always much more than the egg donor and incubator I believed I was.

Is it that the me I've been searching for is already present in me ~ just the knowledge and belief that I am and was always his mother, despite signing those damn papers?

Is the idea that  I need Christopher to truly be a part of my life in order to be "fixed" a false idea?  In writing out all of my pondering here, the answer to that is yes.  In the creating and giving birth to him I am his mother.  No, not in the way that I wish with all of my heart that I could have been, but signing a piece of paper didn't unbirth him from me.  It didn't take away my motherhood, it took away my parenthood.

You've only taken on layers of concepts, habits and dogmas that aren't serving you, and certain basic needs have gone unmet for awhile.

So begin to strip away those layers that you've built up over the course of your lifetime and discover the truth of who you are.

While I know I am so much more than a mother who lost her son to adoption, it is the biggest part of me.  Isn’t it?  I feel that it is.  It effects everything I do, everything I think, everything I am…

For example: Instead of trying to be less argumentative and more understanding of the viewpoints of others, simply let go of the need to always be right, the need to win. Underneath that, you may discover a fear that you aren't being heard, a fear of being invisible and unimportant. This fear may reveal the need for a very specific type of self-love — and once you understand where nurturing and healing are needed, you can begin your work of letting go at the source.

In being less argumentative and more understanding of the viewpoints of others in adoption, should I let go of the need to speak out of the truth of adoption loss for the mothers and adoptees?  To me it doesn’t feel like a need to always be right, it feels as though it’s a truth that needs to be told and understood.

I DO fear that I’m not being heard.  I do have the fear of being invisible and unimportant.  It’s not really a fear though...  I feel that it’s just the truth.  As far as being a mother of adoption loss, we are not listened to.  The loss that I live with every minute of every day is unimportant to anyone who believes or needs to believe in the institution of adoption.  The rainbows and sunshine of adoption are so prevalent, so deeply engrained in everything/everyone.  Except those who live with the loss of adoption.

I will admit that I do have a fear of being invisible and unimportant ~ To Christopher.  So what does that fear reveal?  What kind of self-love is even possible to overcome that?  Where do I let in the nurturing and healing for that?  What is the source of that?  How do I begin the work of letting go at the source if the source is the very soul of me, of my motherhood?

That's just one example, but it illustrates the process of letting go of the outermost layers of "stuff" and revealing the deeper issues underneath, where you can discover your root needs and begin to nurture them. This is where true healing and transformation take place. This is where your higher Self is waiting to emerge.

My root needs...  to have my son in my life.  Which he is.  Kinda.  I know where he is.  I know of his life.  And I am so very thankful for that.

The problem there is that my heart, soul, and every cell of my body feels for him as a son.  No differently than the sons I raised.  I didn't raise Christopher though...  so our relationship is...  less than?  Less than I want it to be, less than I need it to be.  Maybe that's what I have to finally accept?  That it will never, can never be, what I want/need it to be? To be completely honest with myself, right now I don't even know if what we have now is a relationship at all...

This will not be a comfortable process. You may stir up some scary, negative stuff. You may experience some very unpleasant awakenings that shake you to your core. But on the other side of this discomfort and this work, enlightenment and healing are possible. 

I have never really grieved the loss of my son.  I live with the grief, but I haven't experienced the grief.  I'm scared to allow myself to face it.  That deep, dark hole of despair.  As I referred to in another post, I'm scared of facing it because I'm scared that I won't be able to come out of it.  I fear that it's going to envelope me completely instead of just chewing me up and spitting me out. 

It won't be easy, no. But it will be worth it.

Begin the process of letting go of what you are not, and uncovering your neglected/abandoned needs. Nurture and clarify your true Self in this way. The process of transformation is really a process of discovery and refinement of who you truly are.

Today, you are not asked to change in order to become a better version of yourself. You are free to simply let go of what isn’t You. Free to let go of what isn’t magnificent and beautiful. Free to delight in the nakedness of You. The beauty and excellence of You. The fullness of You. 

Let go of what isn't me...  Let go of what isn't magnificent and beautiful...  Writing and contemplating on this entire post, I come up with two things that I need to let go of. 

The grief and loss that are trapped inside of me, unable to be expressed. 

The expectations of having "more" with Christopher. 

What if in finally allowing myself to acknowledge, feel, and express the deeply buried grief I sink into the despair, never to find my way out of the depths?
How do I let go of Christopher?  Again?  This silence is killing me.  Because I am wanting more.  So, do I just accept that there is nothing more to have, walk away and hope that one day he will again come into my life?  Do I just let go and let God?  Just as before when I went back to my life before I gave birth and gave away my first born son?  Shall I now just try to go back to my life before reading those emails on January 16th 3 years ago?  Walking away from my son again?  Is it walking away if he doesn't want me to be a part of his life? 

I thought that working through this post of Daniel's, it could help me work through some of my confusion.  I'm still confused...  Do I write Christopher a letter asking him what he wants out of this relationship?  Do I force a visit on him to discuss it in person?  Do I just go into silence as he has? 

Do I walk away from all things adoption?  The forum, the blogs...   In order to try to get back to life before reunion, I would have to.  To accept my life without keeping that adoption wound open, I would have to.  Or not?  Even if I don't keep picking at that scab, will it ever heal? 

Me - With No Apologies!

I Am Me

As the title of this blog says, reunion with my son wasn't only about finding and getting to know my son lost to adoption, it is also about finding myself. 

When I was a pregnant teenager in 1979, I took on the shame that society was only more than willing to dole out.  I no longer took into consideration all the good things I had done/did in my life ~ it was the "bad" I had done that I used to define my life.  I took on the secrecy of shame.  I thought that if anyone knew the "real" me ~ the me that *gasp* had sex at 15, became pregnant, then gave my baby away ~ they wouldn't like me.  Or worse yet, that they would hate me or think me to be a mean, uncaring person. 

I was already a "people pleaser", I already was one to avoid confrontation due to the crazy family life I was growing up in.  The shame of being an unwed mother who gave a child up for adoption just deepened this in me.  I set out to only show people the "nice" side of me.  To prove that after all, I REALLY WAS a good girl! 

The only time I felt that I could truly be myself was when I was with my life-long friend that I grew up with, as well as with a few girls we became friends with after I returned to high school after Christopher was born.  They all knew, understood, and loved me ~ the REAL me ~ even though... no matter what.  Until recently, it was only when I was with this wonderful group of friends that I could really be myself, that I could let down all my walls and just be. 

My friends & I ~ The Fab Five

With getting to know my son, getting to know myself, I now know that one bad decision didn't define my life.  Not saying "no" that one fateful night isn't my entire being.  Choosing adoption for my firstborn son doesn't define my love, my parenting ability, anything about me. 

Changing who I was, who I let people think that I was, sadly wasn't limited  to my teenage years.  I continued that into adulthood.  When my children were little I was the PTA volunteer, treasurer, president.  I was the go-to person for the school & teachers when they needed someone to do anything extra.  I wasn't a failure as a mother because I gave up my firstborn child, I was a wonder-mom to my raised kids.  At least that's the persona I took on when dealing with their schools.  12 years ago when my husband moved us to this tiny village where he grew up, I became The Church Lady.  The church lady who was always ready and willing to help with the funeral dinners, to teach CCD, any and everything that needed a volunteer.  I wasn't the stupid 15 year old who didn't know how to say no, who gave her child up for adoption.  I was a GOOD person damn it!!  I would have been mortified if any of my small-town friends, fellow church goers, my hubbies family who has lived here for generations, would have seen me being myself with my girlfriends.  Oh the horrors if they had seen me being the loudest laughing one in the group.  If they had seen me enjoying some Cap'n and talking way too much and way too loudly. If they heard us talking nasty or sometimes cussing like sailors ...

I no longer compartmentalize all the parts of my personality.  From the beginning of this journey of finding myself, I have tried to live an authentic life.  I'm still working on that, but Brene Brown and her wonderful website Ordinary Courage has helped me begin.  I stumbled onto an old post of hers the other day, and as I read these words:

Part of midlife is scooping up all the different versions of yourself that you’ve created to please folks, and integrating them into one whole, authentic person. This is tough work for me. I’m so good at assessing exactly who I need to be and when I need to be it. It’s really too bad that "alternating" eventually sucks your soul right out of your body.

In addition to curbing the chameleon action, the other part of integrating has been the very painful process of reconnecting with the parts of myself that I orphaned over the years. You know – the parts of ourselves that we abandon because they get in the way of who and what we need to be now.

 ..they made me realize how much I used to do that.  I also realized just how much my life has changed these last three years.  Three years ago I was the champion chameleon!  Now?

I am a million different things. 
At a million different times. 
I am ME. 
I am me with no apologies!

I'm far from being done on my journey.  I've put so much into place, but I have so much more to figure out...  But that's another story for another day!

Limbo? Acceptance? Or Something Else?

I feel as though I'm in a limbo of sorts lately. 

Christopher is a part of my life now, yet he's not.  I am a part of his life, but yet I'm not. 

Maybe the feeling of being in limbo is because this "reunion" has become so one-sided. 

I have felt a big shift in my emotions towards reunion since his surgery.  Once the fear of losing Christopher in surgery was gone, I felt as though a huge weight had been lifted off my heart.  The love is still there, bigger than ever.  But the fear, the worry?  Gone.

It was more than just the fear of losing him during the surgery though.  It's as though the fear of losing him in any way was gone.  Is this finally acceptance that he will never fully be a part of my life?  Is it finally enough to just know that he's alive, healthy, and happy? Did the fear of his death allow me to finally be at peace with him just "being out there somewhere"?  Even if that meant that he wasn't going to fully be a part of my life?  I no longer worry about sending him emails too often, or obsess over every word I write in worry that I will say something to drive him away.  I am following my heart ~ if I read or hear something I want to share with him, I do it.  When it's in my heart to let him know I'm thinking about him, hoping he's feeling better, I follow my heart now instead of worrying that it's wrong in some way.



These last few weeks have just been so strange to me.  For the first time since Jan. 16, 2009, upon finding those first emails from the search angel and Christopher, he hasn't been on my mind 24/7. He is not always the first thing I think of when I wake up, nor always the last thing I think of before falling asleep.

This feeling of... limbo is very unsettling for some reason.  There's a little voice in my head that fears it is not really acceptance ~ maybe I have instead buried my emotions regarding Christopher again.  And don't even know it... 

 Maybe it's not following my heart so much as subconsciously I don't care anymore about pushing him away?  Does a person even realize it when they are pushing someone away before they themselves can be pushed away? 

*sigh* 

This rambling is exactly why I haven't written many posts lately.  None of this probably makes any sense.  It doesn't even make sense to me!  All of my thoughts are going in circles, winding around on themselves, making it even more confusing than when I first started writing all of this out in an attempt to figure out what in the world I am or am not feeling.  If this blog post was an Excel spreadsheet, I would be getting a circular error warning!

Putting Up Walls

I had some comments on my last post that I was going to reply to, but decided to write a new post instead. 

First, about comparing reunions.  

I was generalizing in my thoughts about the different things I read at FMF.  There are many who do not fall into the "worst case scenario" when it comes to reunion, but there are many who do.  I want any expectant mother considering adoption who may stumble onto my blog to know the possibilities of "what may be" if they allow adoption into their lives.  They are not giving up their motherhood for only 18 years, it may be forever.  Reunion isn't a sure thing.  Growing a loving relationship after reunion isn't a sure thing. 

Isn't that part of what is so hard in navigating through a reunion?  There is nothing to compare to.  There are also no "rules" to follow.  When there are no rules or nothing to compare your reunion to, there is no real way to go into reunion except with trial and error.  Hopefully the error isn't enough to completely de-rail the reunion.  What works for one person will horribly fail for another.  All we can hope for is that all parties are in it for the best, and are willing to get to know each other despite ourselves.

Now for the part that has really been bothering me.

Putting up walls.

Linda said... I love the "I took the baby I gave up for adoption out of the day" comment. Once I let go of the baby who was given up for adoption (me) it really helped me. I cannot change what my Mother went through, and I cannot change what was done to me. It's taken me 45 years to get to this point.

I don't remember who it was that gave me that advice.  To take the baby I gave up out of my reunion with Christopher.  It was the best advice I received, and was a tremendous help to me when I was first navigating through reunion.  It helped me be happy to get to know the young man who Christopher is, instead of only being sad about the baby who grew up without me.  It didn't always help, there were and still are times it is impossible to take the baby out of the equation.  I love Linda's words "I cannot change what my Mother went through, and I cannot change what was done to me" ~ substitute son for mother, and it's taken me 48 years to get to this point!

lolokey said... I wasn't sure, so I went back and checked. When you met your son for your first f2f he told you one of the conditions was that you couldn't cry! Maybe you put that wall up at his request, not yours? (which by the way is a very maternal thing to do!)

Yes, that was his one condition to meeting that October day last year.  He said I couldn't cry.  Which I didn't think was going to be a problem, as I have been unable to cry in front of anyone for years.  I had become an expert at putting up the walls and not letting out my emotions.  So having Christopher put that request out there only made it more necessary for me to put and keep that wall up.  It became necessary to me to completely take that baby out of the day, in order to make it through meeting the wonderful young man without tears for the baby I lost. 

The thing that really bothers me though is that I have become so good at burying the emotions.  I feel as though it's emotionally unhealthy for me, it makes me angry at myself, it just plain drives me crazy that I don't/can't cry over all of this.  Or is it?  Am I mental (quit nodding), or is it something else?

lolokey said...I struggle with putting walls up as well. Maybe the most important thing is that we allow ourselves to feel the emotions, not beat ourselves up about when we do (or don't) feel them. Maybe we can start to learn to see our walls as a place to lean on when we need support and not use them to protect ourselves.

Is my lack of crying because I buried the tears?  Or have I actually come to a place of.... acceptance?  Maybe I need to quit beating myself up for what I think is not feeling the emotions.  I do feel love, fear, worry, etc. for Christopher, for all the loved ones in my life.  Have I been leaning on my walls, not hiding behind them?  This all sounds so stupid when I go back and read these last words.  I so wish that I was able to get the swirling thoughts out of my head and into a sentence that makes sense when written!!  I guess what I need to do is take lolokey's advice and not beat myself up for not feeling the emotions.  Because maybe that's not what's going on after all. 

*sigh*

I wish there was a guide book for all of this...

Susie

How do the adoptive parents make you feel?

As a mother who placed, how do the adoptive parents make you feel?

This question was asked on a forum I belong to recently.  Normally I ignore most of the adoption questions there, but for some reason this one keeps coming back to me.  When an idea or thought gets stuck in my head, it usually means it is something that I need to deal with for some reason.

One of the reasons I started to write and blog about my adoption story was because I was having such a hard time putting my thoughts and feelings into words.  I often felt like I just had a bunch of random words and bits of thoughts swirling like a tornado in my brain.  When I would try to put them into a cohesive thought or sentence, I couldn't.  It's like I had spent so many years, decades, hiding from the thoughts and feelings about my son and his adoption, it became all but impossible to finally face them and put words to them.   This blog has helped me with that so much.  It helped me to come fully out of the fog and finally know and accept the effects of adoption loss on my life.  I finally put an end to the constant tornado.

I had all but forgotten that feeling of the swirling thoughts that wouldn't settle down no matter how hard I tried.  Trying to put thoughts or words together to describe how Christopher's parents make me feel have brought it right back.  I am going to attempt to answer that question, hoping that by writing it out I will figure it out.

The very first and most simple thought/feeling that comes to mind when thinking about them is gratefulness.  It seems... wrong somehow?  to want to express my thanks to them for being wonderful parents to Christopher though.  I don't know why it feels wrong, but it does.  Maybe because of the hurt I felt when I read his mothers words of thanks to me for my "selfless decision".  The thanks were meant completely out of love and gratefulness, and I did read them as loving words, but it later felt like a kick in the stomach, a "thanks for living with life-long grief and loss that is unimaginable by anyone who has not lived the life of a mother without her child".  Maybe I feel ambivalent about saying that I feel grateful to his parents because to them it could be seen as hurtful, not with the love that I mean it in; but since I am not an adoptive parent I don't realize how those words could be perceived as hurtful.  (Those were some rambling sentences ~ I hope that they make at least a little sense!)

So.  Overall, how do Christopher's parents make me feel?  ... Confused?  Intrusive?  Sad?  I guess that since I have no idea how they feel about me, about me being in their son's life, it just leaves me wondering. 

After I gave Christopher up, I often fantasized that I was somehow able to write to his mom.  I used to actually write the letters, but had nowhere to mail them to.  I imagined that I was able to become pen-pals of sorts with her.  I dreamed that I was able to KNOW, not hope, how he was doing as he grew up.   I was able to learn the funny things he said and did as he was growing up.  I got to read about when he started to walk and talk, ride a bike, start school...  I was able to learn how her life was changed as a mother to a son.  I was able to see photos of him, of them, as Christopher grew up so I could stop looking at every little boy his age and wonder if it could have been him.  I wanted her to know how my life was going too.  I wanted her to know the milestones that happened in my life.  I guess I mostly hoped that she cared how I was doing.  I felt a bond of sorts between us ~ two mothers with a deep and profound love for the same child.  I still feel that bond, even though we have never met, even though we have never become the "pen-pals" that I dreamed of.

I guess how his parents make me feel is wanting.  Wanting to know them, wanting to act on that bond I feel with his mother.  Wanting to be a part of their family and for them to be a part of mine.  Wanting to have a relationship in real-life, not just in my heart.

Susie

 

Acceptance?

This notebook doodle really has me thinking. 

I define my life in 3 stages.

Before Christopher

After giving him up for adoption

After reunion

Was it meant to be?  Was he not meant to stay in my life?  I do not believe in "destiny", as far as my life being pre-destined.  I don't believe that I was born to give birth to a child I could not raise.  I don't believe that Christopher was conceived by me in order for N & F to become parents.  Saying goodbye was the hardest thing I have ever done.  My life changed drastically at that point in my life.  

Then...

Saying hello again in reunion was the change that broke me down, making me more vulnerable than I ever thought possible.  There have been many times during these last (almost) two years that made me think this change was more than I could bear.  There were many times I wished I could go back into that lovely place called Denial.  In some ways being in denial was so much easier.  In reality though, this change has saved my life.  I finally had answers.  I knew my son was alive.  I saw the ways that the loss of my son, the denial of the grief from that loss, was effecting every aspect of my life.  In finally being vulnerable, by telling my story, I have found strength.  In being vulnerable, I have begun to finally live an authentic life.  

In the weeks after Thanksgiving, I had come to realize there is another change that is necessary for my well-being.  I needed to accept that my "fantasy" reunion is just that.  It is a fantasy.  The reality of our reunion is a happy one.  We have discovered that we have a lot in common.  We have answered many questions for each other.  Christopher came into this reunion only wanting info, yet he quickly said he wanted "more".  Even though he does not email frequently anymore, he will reply when I send him one.  We are Facebook friends.  This is so much more than I ever thought I would have.  

The change I have made is that instead of praying for Christopher to want "more", I have been praying for acceptance.  Acceptance for what is.  I have felt at peace with this for a couple of weeks now.  I cannot change the way Christopher feels (or doesn't feel) about me, but I can change the way I look at our reunion, our relationship.  

I still have hopes for our relationship to grow deeper in the future.  I still yearn to see photos of him as a child, photos of him growing up.  I still pray that some day I will get to meet his family, that I will have a chance to know my grandchildren.  I will always hope that some day Christopher will want "more"; in his own time, not mine.  I accept where we are at right now.  I rejoice in what we have right now.  

Acceptance of what I have versus what I dream of is a welcome change to my weary heart and soul.

The "change" that reunion brought into my life became too much for me to bear as it had been.  I believe that this latest change, acceptance, is the only thing that saved my sanity through the holidays and now into this new year.

As long as we are seeking something, 

be it a state of being or something material, 

we will always be seeking. 

When we stop and accept what ever it is we are seeking, 

we allow the experience of it.