Birmingham

So I pretty much got my answer. I went to see my Grandma Thursday. Of course, the first thing she mentions is that she wants to go Christmas shopping & get my little girl some things. I didn't feel I needed to bring the subject up to her about 8 years ago. I got my answer from the way she does and has always acted. Grandma loves me & I know she never "revoked" any offer. She always mentions my daughter and I know she would have helped me anyway that she could.

I'm pretty convinced that my parents talked her out of any offer to help. I talked to my best friend and my husband about my decision to "disappear" and they both support me. Part of me feels so wrong for cutting my parents out of my life. Who does that? But when there has been so much wrong done- you get to a point where you have nothing more to say and nothing more to give. Love endures hardships, it doesn't abandon. If your family acts like strangers in times of hardship- that's not the family I want to be a part of.

"Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.
It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.
Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.
It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.
Love never fails. "

Deception

So I shouldn't be blogging right now. I have an Anatomy test tomorrow that I'm studying for, but if I don't release some of the tension in my head- I won't be able to retain anymore knowledge. I might as well get out my peace for the day so I can move forward.

My sister stayed over last night. She's younger than me - she's now my age when I was pregnant. She was in a wreck 2 months ago that left her bed-ridden with a fractured leg & she's just now being able to move around. She's having to live with my parents in the meantime.

I haven't talked to my mom (well, either parent) since the wreck. My sister has always been very close to me- I am 8 years older than she & I've always viewed myself as a protector type. I love her dearly. The night she was in the wreck- she and her boyfriend had been at my house. Long story short- my mom didn't even call to tell me my sister had been in a wreck after they left. I found out by calling the next day to tell my sister she had left her keys here. Then my mom tells me she was in the hospital waiting for surgery.

At first, I thought she was joking. What kind of parent would leave a sibling totally out of the loop? Especially, considering we are the only two and we're very close. What if my sister had cut her femoral artery & bled to death? What if she had gone into shock? I don't care if she simply scratched her hands up a little- I'm still her sister, she had just left MY house! I think I deserve the courtesy of being told.

This was it for me. I told my dad that she (my mom) was out of my life. I didn't realize how much I meant it. I haven't talked to my mom or dad in 2 months now. I'm actually at peace with it. There is so much water under the bridge and I don't need anymore. I finally came to the understanding that granted I'll never be good enough for them- why the hell am I trying to be something for them anyway? I'm a grown woman with a husband, my own home, my own life. I don't have to listen to her judgments, I don't have to be her puppet like she's made of my dad. I don't think my dad has made a decision for 20 years. I don't want to turn this into a parent bashing blog....I'm just so upset that I couldn't have realized this 8 years ago when it would have made a change in my daughter's case.

I won't ever be good enough in their eyes. But I feel I've always led my life in honesty- I've always tried to be respectful and truthful. Now that I'm looking back- wondering why I didn't reach out to other family for support during my pregnancy- I realized after reading an old journal. I was reading where my grandmother had offered that I come live with her in Alabama because my parents were kicking me out. Then, I read further that the offer was revoked because my dad said she didn't realize that my daughter was biracial. THAT'S why I didn't reach out to family. I can remember my parents being so ashamed and embarassed about the color thing- that I was scared to reach out to anyone. It was put in my head that my family would not accept my daughter. So, it makes me wonder, so many years later when my grandmother and aunts ask about "H", when they send her letters themselves, when they ask for pictures, when they remember her birthday & send her gifts---who was it REALLY that had a problem with my daughter? Considering my parents NEVER ask about her, NEVER send her gifts, NEVER ask for pictures, NEVER talk about her to the family---I was deceived.

I am so tempted, its almost an uncontrollable urge, to visit my grandmother. I want to talk to her about the events back then. There are so many things I was probably oblivious to. I want to know how the conversation truly went between she and my father. And granted, if my dad told the truth, I can accept that. I love my grandmother. She's been more compassionate to me than my parents ever tried to be. It just doesn't make since that an 81 year-old woman can remember her great-grandchild's birthday better than my parents. I think I'm gonna have to take a trip to Birmingham. I think I need to do it for my own resolve.

The Stages of Grief

The Stages of Grief
There is a lesser known "stages of grief" described by a Dr. Temes. Its stages are numbness, disorganization, and reorganization. I relate to this much more than the traditional- denial, anger, bargain, depression, acceptance theory.With the adoption- I think it was at least 6 years that I was numb. I don't remember having a genuine, honest laugh for years. I remember losing touch with childhood friends because my world was so alien to their's. We were in our early 20's- a time where the world was new and exciting- but I was already aged emotionally beyond 20 years old. I was a very unhappy person who felt like she was a walking corpse. There were times I wanted to end my physical being because my emotional being had been gone for so long. There were times- I hate to say in retrospect- where that was almost an outcome. I knew I had to live. I had a daughter in the world and how selfish would that be to end my life before ever knowing her? Not ever being able to meet her face to face and tell her that my world was overflowing with love for her. My daughter "H" is the reason I'm alive today. She is the reason I forced myself through school, bought a house, have savings plans, and she is the reason I try to be a productive citizen. I don't want to be embarassed in years to come when she finds me out to see that I'm a sad, empty person. I want her to be proud of me."H" was the driving force that made me live through the motions. I knew each day was a step towards something more. I went back to school the Fall after having her. This time I came across a girl in class that had to have a roommate immediately. I could only afford so much- but she accepted the offer. Although- I didn't eat that much- I at least had my own place now. My mom bought a new car and gave me her old one to drive to school and work. This was a blessing and pissed me off to the core at the same time. One month after having my daughter- my parents built a pool and that summer my mom bought a new convertible. I was so numb- it seemed useless to conjecture. I had been confused by their motives and intent for so long- that I just wanted to escape. Driving that old car was a way to leave and start a new life.Then I met "N"- someone who would cause me more grief than I needed. We started dating the week of "H"s first birthday. Our first date was her due date. I was emotionally fragile and he was charismatic and manipulative (as well as handsome). Bad ingredients for a tasteless recipe.He was wonderful at first- he gave me all the emotional acceptance I guess I needed at the time. We married that year and it went downhill from there. I think I was emotionally "disorganized" for a long time- and he helped beat any kind of self-assurance out of me. I tried to stick it out- left him a number of times- threatening that I wouldn't come back until things weren't so hostile. He'd always promise he'd change, apologize, cry and beg. For three years we went through this cycle. I felt that I had made a vow and I was going to stick through it. I didn't want to get divorced, I didn't need that kind of failure. Our last big fight- he served me with papers. I decided that I'd agree because how can you stay married to someone who wants out? We divorced when I was 23, I left with $60 in my bank account. Within 6 months, graduating school, and working 2 jobs- I had bought my own home. This was the beginning of my reorganization.I met my present husband, "R", around the time I bought my home. We were both divorcees. I decided it'd be best that we stayed just friends. We actually became wonderful friends over a year and a half. I was scared to get involved. I dated guys here and there, but it was almost subconscious that I would only date guys that were fun and there wasn't pressure for anything more. I knew "R" was looking for the real thing. That was a scary thought. I had been through so much drama in the past 6 years of my life- I didn't want to make another mistake.One night we went out and had a great time, then the next night, and next thing I know I can't stop thinking about him. We had and still have the most exceptional relationship I've ever shared with another person. He is my beacon. He is my pillar. He has more to do with my "reorganization" than he'll ever know. For so long I felt like I could make it through the world without needing anyone close to me. He came into my life and showed me what it is to truly be loved. Love is shown through actions, not through words and not from being kin.Now that my mind is at the clearest its been in nearly 8 years- I'm having trouble with the past. I'm having trouble with the time that I was numb. I spent so many years acting on instinct and blocking out emotions- that they're starting to surface. I went through so much grief that I think I found hiding places in my head so my heart couldn't feel the pain. Now that enough time has passed and I'm feeling stronger than I ever have, maybe those hidden thoughts need closure.I guess I can relate it to being a child. When you're five- you have a different perspective of how events occurred. There is a naivety and innocence. Once you get older, you can look back and understand the event clearly as an adult. I think that's God's way of protecting us. I feel that way with the adoption. I think my mind suppressed a lot of what was going on because I don't think I could have handled it emotionally. Now, in retrospect, I'm starting to question things that were said and done. Now that I'm older and have a broader view of the world- I question bitterly what my parents were thinking?I have so much resentment and anger- I feel like I need to find closure and reconciliation for my younger self. I feel like she (my younger self) was manipulated and deceived by those who should have loved her most. "H"s father has even apologized and tried to find closure with the adoption. On occasion we'll even send gift packages together to our daughter. I don't have that loathing in my heart for him like I did at one time. If anything, I pity him. I pity that at one point in his life- he was so immature- that he gave away one of the greatest opportunities life has to offer.On the other hand, my parents were just that, my parents. Now that I'm older, I couldn't fathom doing and saying the things they did. I wasn't a helpless 14 year old kid. I was 18, I was in college, I was smart and persevering. Life knocked me down in every way it could from my boyfriend dumping me, a truck running over me, and all else that followed. Then for them to kick me while I was down I will never understand. Did they think I was going to all of a sudden turn into a parasite? That would have been and will always be out of character for me. I would have done exactly what I did- went back to school and made my own way. It may have taken me a year or two longer with child- but I would have gotten it done.I feel like I was hoodwinked. Right at a month ago I realized that just because people are your parents- doesn't mean you have to be involved in their lives. I respect them simply for being my parents, but as far as friendship- they are people that I would never include on the list. I know that sounds harsh. It sounds incredibly heartless on the surface. How do you right in your heart what will always be wrong? How do you forgive those who are too arrogant for forgiveness. If there ever was an apology- how do I accept when its an event that is entwined with my being? They can never take back who I became.

From Mother to Birth Parent

Usually, transition evolves smoothly. You steadily move from one phase of your life into the next. Transitioning from a mother for nine months into an instant birth parent doesn't work quite so seamlessly.

I fought the first 5 months of my pregnancy to be able to raise my daughter myself. It just didn't seem meant to be. After being abandoned by her father and my parents- I had to consider adoption. I kept it on the backburner- just as last resort. Surely, "M" (her father) would come around, or my parents would find the compassion to see how hard I was working to make it happen. By my 6th month though- "M" found ways to avoid me at all costs. The one who had once been a great friend- made sure he wasn't easy to reach. Promises to come to doctor's visits and to see ultrasounds were always broken.

My mom, of course, was very eager about adoption. She made sure that she tagged along when I went to visit a counselor about my options. All the while, I'm fighting adoption in my head, it was being pushed down my throat. Yes, there is a lot of resentment towards my parents. Especially, in retrospect, when I think of things that were said and done. Now that I'm older and have my own household. How could they have mislead me the way they did?

I think I finally conceded around the end of my 6th month. I remember looking at adoptive parent profiles and feeling completely numb. What the hell was I doing? I'm picking out a family for my daughter? I come from a middle-class family. We weren't poor people. We were churchgoers. I was healthy as a horse, a hard-worker, a smart kid. Why were my parents not getting this? I would never be the daughter that is living with her parents 10 years later, going out while my parents babysit, acting like I'm still a teenager. All I needed from them was support and encouragement- was that too much to ask of the duties of parenthood? All I needed was help with a gameplan and I would follow through. I always did. I've never been one to give up. My life after adoption proves that- I bought my own home barely after turning 24- I'm back in school now for a second degree. For 4 years of my life I've worked 2 jobs at the same time. I have a Roth IRA. How much more of a responsible person could I be?

I lapsed into a fog around that time. I think I was in a fog for the next 6 years of my life. Just going through the motions. Taking the next logical step. Working, going to school, anything to occupy my mind and my time.

My mom actually picked out my daughter's parents. They happened to be 3,000 miles away. With all honesty- I think they are wonderful people. But for many years- I would tell people that I was happy about the outcome. I was so numb when she showed me the profile- I probably would have agreed with anyone or anything. I can remember for years after- telling people that I was happy that my daughter is where she is. To some degree- that is true. I think the world of her parents. They are life loving people and they can afford to indulge her in the hobbies I would never have been able to- at least for a number of years. I hold no grudges against them- I don't ever want to misrepresent that I hold bitterness towards them.

I think I had conceded in my mind- that I had no other option. So instead of fighting the idea- I better find a way to emotionally and psychologically accept the idea. For the last 3 months of my pregnancy- I had to brainwash myself about the positive aspects of adoption. All along- still keeping the hope alive that God would intervene somehow- changing "M"s heart- or even my parents'. I remember going for a job interview with the County- which could have really given me some leverage. But at 6 months- its a bit hard to hide the bulge in your belly- especially having a 9 pound baby.

My beautiful little girl was born on a cold February morning. I had been in labor for three days. I would keep her in the room with me until the next day when my social worker would come to get her. I didn't sleep. I held her the entire time. Looked her body over, tried to remember every fold of skin. I baptized her, prayed for her, cried for her. I cried for myself. This was the end of the road. I wouldn't have her in my belly to talk to at night. I would never feel her inside of me again. Tomorrow was sure to come. Tomorrow, the Katie I was would die a little. The Katie I am would be born.

My Story

So this is my first blog. I feel a bit uneasy. I guess that's to be expected.

First- I guess I will make a point to myself- this blog is to be used for adoption-related issues only. I feel sometimes that I have two people trapped inside of me. The person I would have been and the person I am. I must have hit the nail on the head because the tears just welled.

"The person I would have been" is actually who I am everyday. Its the person I was when I was a child, the person I was pre-adoption, and the person I reunited with about two years ago. She, the real Katie, disappeared in a fog in 1998. It took many years for me to find her again. She had a quick wit, an eagerness to learn, and a trusting nature. The latter has been replaced by cynicism unfortunately. But for the most- that Katie- has been back in full swing for the past two years. All impart to meeting my husband- my beacon of light.

The person I am- is the one hiding in the shadows. The one who was born of conflict in 1998. So I assume- with her being of childlike age- it makes sense that she has childlike thoughts. I can't say that I hate her- she did bear much grief for me. I just need to settle her soul and I hope by letting "her" thoughts out through blog may relieve her. This part of me finds opportunity when I'm alone. Haunting thoughts of indecision, what-ifs, regret, anger, etc. So- I find myself alone today- with a part of me that should have never existed. It's time that I find closure.

My double life- I guess how I refer to it- began in the Spring of 1998. I was a freshmen in college- studying Architecture. I was an honor student, had scholarships, played sports (an avid jogger), worked, etc. I felt like I had made it out of my hometown where most of my friends were highschool dropouts. I never looked down at them- I just knew I had different goals.

I guess being booksmart doesn't negate naivety. I started dating a boy in February of 1998 that I had known from my hometown. He chased me for a bit- I was never interested- then the forces that be worked their magic. I look back now & wonder "what the hell?"-- I'm embarassed that I ever gave him the time. But I'm most thankful of the result.

The last weekend in May- I'll never forget- I knew when it happened. Three weeks later, sure enough- alone in my dorm hall I take a pregnancy test. In fact, I take three more. All I remember is hyperventilating, vomiting, and not being able to get in touch with him- "M". I finally do- and we settle on marriage. I'll continue with school and he'll join the military like he had been planning. People do it everyday. Now to the hard part- telling our parents.

It was around Father's Day- I went home for the weekend and couldn't muster the courage to share the news. As I'm heading to the door to go back to school- my mom pulls me aside and asks point-blank if I'm pregnant. I guess I had been acting quite out of character. I burst into tears and honestly don't remember much after.

At first- everything seemed to be flowing smoothly. I was going to summer school and still working. "M" and I were trying to make plans for the future. I felt that we were being responsible- taking care of our consequences. Then one night "M" calls and invites me to go bowling with him and his cousin. They come to pick me up and he meets me in the driveway. I remember the moon, I remember the breeze. He wanted out.

A brick formed in my gut. My soul left in a whisper of air. Where do I go from here?

I made myself so sick in the night crying- that the next morning I had to go to the hospital. I believe it was psychosomatic- I now had an acute kidney infection. I missed so many days of school- that I decided to withdraw with a WF so it wouldn't effect my GPA. Then life only punched harder...

Coming home from work one night on the interstate- an 18-wheeler pulls into my lane and runs over my car. I survived without a scratch being hit by 3 other vehicles after losing control. There were many witnesses- but no one got information on the truck in the dark. It was a hit and run.

The next day- my only supporters, my parents- tell me if I choose to keep this baby- I won't be welcome in their home. The final blow- TKO.

I was a lone soldier now battling to keep my daughter. I had no education, no vehicle, no job, no support, no shelter of my own. I put my name on a list for public housing- there was a year and a half wait. I went back to my high school job- fast food- borrowing my dad's car to get me there. I attended parenting classes held by the crisis center (who I am forever thankful for). I collected everything I could- from car seats, clothes, etc- anything I could attain for free or out of the center's charity. It was a different world for a middle-class kid to feel so destitute.

I felt like I was reaching for the unattainable- but who else was going to fight for my daughter? She was inutero and had already been abandoned by her father and both sets of grandparents.

I guess I'll end here today. This is where the tears are hardest to cease. Being let down by those you love is a wound that won't heal. Especially- when you sense no remorse from them years after. I was let down- and most appalling my daughter was let down. I was never a problem child- I was never irresponsible. All I needed was a little support during a time of crisis in my life. I have always managed to stand on my own two feet and I always will. I just wish my moment of weakness had been met with compassion rather than apathy.