Peace

My heart is full tonight. One year ago I didn't think I would make it to this moment. And, I did. It's a moment of calm that's been a long time coming and it is full of reflection and memory. The night is quiet and my lamp is softly bright and my thoughts surround my baby tonight. He is beautiful. He is healthy. He is happy. He is Joy personified. He is safe. He is loved. His smile... is Heaven. His laugh is music to my soul. I miss him so much, but it's different now; it's survivable now. I am blessed to be his birthmother. I am blessed to have known such perfection in a world filled with sorrow. My baby boy's smile is Joy. In a world of sorrow, he is Joy. This moment is beautiful. To those of you reading this who are birthmothers, birthfathers, or first families- or anyone experiencing sorrow for that matter- who are wondering if you will ever feel peace again, rest assured Peace will come and it will be a quiet moment of reflection. i promise, in time, it will come.

Dear Sweetheart,

Dear Sweetheart,

You are now one year old. I can't believe that a year has already gone by. You share the same birth date with your adoptive mother and yesterday my family was invited to a birthday celebration for both you and your mom. It was a beautiful day and one I won't forget. You were a little under the weather and I could tell that your ear was hurting because you kept tugging on it, but you were still such a good baby. You are so good natured. You were still laughing and smiling. I got to cuddle you and give you a bottle. You are such a big boy! Your thighs are so roley-poley! Your cheeks were beautifully rosey and your voice is heavenly. I saw your sister hold you and you went to her naturally and I love that you love your sister. She loves you too, so very much. And, as for your brother, he thinks you are the funniest little guy in the world. You were making him laugh so hard and I can tell that the two of you are best friends. Seeing you with your family brought so much joy to my heart. What a beautiful and joyous day! A beautiful memory. You look so much like your daddy. You are a handsome little guy. You still don't have that much of a neck, but I love that you are so squishy. And as for your arms, well, I can tell they are thinning out a bit, but they are still very much deliciously plump. You are perfection. Everything about you exudes light. Even when you aren't your "best" self, you're light shines beautifully bright. I love you more than you will ever know, my darling. My mother and sisters were able to hold you as well and they adore you. They were beside themselves with your perfection. You are joy, personified. Child of my heart, you are loved by more people then you will ever remember. We love you for eternity.

Love,

your birth mother

Imprint

One year ago I took my lunch from work and went to a doctor's appointment. I was examined and all my doctor said was, "My dear. Call your husband. You're having a baby." I stared at him blankly and told him (for the fifth time) that I'm not married. He sheepishly looked at me and asked if I drove myself to the appointment and I told him I had driven myself. He asked me who I planned to have come to the hospital with me and I told him my mother. "Well then," he said, "best call your mother."

I called my work first and I told the girl in billing who answered the phone, "I'm going to have a baby." She laughed at me and jokingly replied, "Really?! I wondered why your belly's grown so much the last little while." I laughed because it was funny and then I told her, "No. I mean today. I'm going to have a baby today. I have to go straight to the hospital now." Billing girl started freaking out on the phone. She got my boss out of mediation and they asked me what I still needied to complete at work and I told them what was still pending. I was on the phone for about 10 minutes tying up loose ends and then I walked out to the waiting room and I called my mom. She headed down immediately.

I wasn't feeling any labor pains because of my hospital visit the night before (11-11-2009) where I was found to be having false labor. That pain was horrific. I had felt it the entire day at the office. It was in my back. I couldn't even stand up straight and my boss was convinced I was in labor then, but I refused to leave to go get checked because I needed the pay check. That night as I tried to relax in bed, I couldn't relax and the pain progressively got worse so I drove myself to the hospital, was checked and was told it was false labor but the nurse gave me a BIG shot of morphine in my hip that left me incapable of driving. I called my sister and her husband to see if they could come pick me up at the hospital and take me home. They did and I slept real good for the first time in 9 months. No worries. No concern about what was coming. No endless circle of thought in my head. No constant shifting from side to side to get comfortable. No restless dreaming. No waking up multiple times in the middle of the night due to back pain. Just... sleep. I drove myself to work the next day and I was completely calm at work even though around me chaos was erupting in every case that called in that day.

I guess that's why I wasn't feeling labor one year ago today when I drove myself to my doctor's appointment, is because that morphine was... awesome. I admitted myself to the hospital. I had called in only 3 weeks before to pre-register. I had my overnight bag in the car from the previous night's hospital adventure. I waited in the hospital bed, hooked up to every machine imaginable, and listened to my baby on the machines. He was so active. I couldn't stop laughing at his activity inside me and I could feel all of it powerfully. I watched my belly as he tossed and turned and I could see his movement. His heart beat was beautiful and soothing. I was given an epidural. My water broke and I didn't feel anything. I was focused on my babies heart beat and movement.

Time passed slowly and I was getting restless from just laying in bed. I found that as I layed there, I had lots of time to think about what was coming my way and I thought I would go insane with the thoughts. My mom and sister would kind of laugh because I would let out a sound of frustration and then wrap my fingers in my hair and tug... I was restless and I wanted to get up... I wanted to be anywhere but there doing what I was doing. But, I listened to my babies heart beat and his movement and it was calming.

Sixteen hours after I was admited to the hospital (now Friday November 13, 2009), I was prepped for C-section. I was wheeled into the surgical room and it was cold. They gave me something in my IV that made the room feel even colder. I was scared and I couldn't stop shaking. My mom was rubbing my cheeks in her hand and telling me to calm my body, but I was scared because within minutes my baby would be here and then within a couple days' time he would be gone and I wasn't ready for that. I kept shaking, trying to will my body to soothe, only it couldn't. My teeth started to chatterand the shaking became debilitating. And then I felt this sensation like a balloon was being lifted from my abdomen and then I heard a tiny cry.

My doctor wiped my baby off and held him over the divider and said, "There's the little trouble maker," as he laughed at my baby's newness. My baby boy was crying and the sound pierced the air like music that is written for only a mother's soul to comprehend. I laughed at his newness. He was perfection. My mom went with the nurse to clean him up and when she brought him back, he was wrapped like a peanut in a white blanket. She held him close to my face and I stopped shaking as I took in a deep breath of him. His scent was warm. I will never forget that moment. I will never forget his face the first time I saw it. Despite the fact that I was drugged beyond comprehension with pain meds for the delivery, I will never forget the first cry my baby made or the first time I saw his face. The memory of him has imprinted itself upon my heart.

It's been a LONG time...

Holy crow, I didn't realize how much time had passed since I last blogged. It's been about a month now which is crazy.

The biggest to do in my life this last month is that I started a belly dance class that took place on Wednesday evenings. It is Tribal Fusion belly dance which is amazing. I've been trying to find a Tribal Fusion class for the last year and couldn't find any unless they were located in the county north of where I live which isn't a horrible drive unless it's rush hour which is when I would be driving to make it to the classes up north. And then, out of nowhere, news of a class in my county literally came out of the blue. Furthermore, it's taught by a girl that I went to high school with.

The class has been amazing and I've had a blast. It ended last week. I wish it would have gone longer because it was so much fun. Last weekend on Saturday, a city near where I live hosted the Middle Eastern Dance Fest which was filled with different dancing groups in the county that I live in that are taught by members of a massive belly dancing troupe. It was awesome! And, my group killed it! We were an extremely small group, only 4 people, and so there was no way to fudge moves and not be seen. I had so much fun and my sister recorded it. The only sad thing was that her camera shut off 3 minutes into the dance right before we sped up and it really took off.

When we were on stage and the music started and we started moving our hips to the beep, all I could think about was, "holy crap! I'm shaking my hips at the audience!" That was the first 30 seconds or so of the song and then I don't remember anything accept I kept thinking, "I'm dancing. On a stage. On stage in front of people, I dance." And I felt a lot like Bob in the movie "What About Bob" when he was sailing on a boat for the first time, only he wasn't really sailing, he was strapped to the mast. Only, I was "dancing". The moves we did were extremely basic. We kept it extremely simple, but I had so much fun.

If you had asked me one year ago if I would ever consider performing ANYTHING, let alone dancing, in front of a large audience I would have started blushing simply at the suggestion of it. But, I did it and I want to do it again. I tried this class just to see if it was something I would even like to begin with; I always thought I would like belly dancing, but liking the idea of something and then actually liking "doing" something are two completely different things. I'm addicted to belly dance. It doesn't matter what song is playing and what genre that song fits in to, I am constantly imagining in my mind how I can belly dance to it. I can't wait to take another class.

Below, I have embeded the song that we danced to. Only the version we danced to was about 4.5 minutes, not the 6 minutes in the video below. It's a beautiful song and it's Niyaz. It's called "Minara". Hope you enjoy.

Dear Sweetheart,

Dear Sweetheart,

As of a couple days ago, you are now officially 11 months old. Time is such an interesting thing. It goes the fastest when you want it to slow down, and never seems to end when you want it to speed up. I wish that I could have been pregnant with you longer, but it went by so fast. I wish that we could have had more time with each other in the hospital, but again, it was a blur. And now you are 11 months old and I wish you were still a newborn infant, yet I can't wait to witness you grow from afar. There is so much that I've missed and perhaps that is why time seems to have flown past me. Maybe since I don't see you on a daily basis, I'm not familiar with how familiar you would be to me if I did spend every day with you.

Every single moment of your life is precous to me. From the moment I found out I was pregnant with you, to the moment you are reading this letter when you first read it... and every time after that you choose to read it. Your life is a gift and it should be lived that way every single day. You are the joy of my spirit. You are the sense in a life that doesn't always make sense. You are a blessing to all those who know you and will know you. I love you with all that I am Baby Boy. You are the child of my heart and I will always cherish you.

Love,

your birth mother

Dear Sweetheart,

Dear Sweetheart,

I believe in God and I know He loves me; regardless of how stubborn I can be, I know that my Heavenly Father loves me. God's hand is in all things. He can make miracles out of sorrow and He can help us believe in Hope when we no longer believe in anything and Hope is Love and Love is Christ. In the depths of our sorrow, He is the light. I am grateful to Him for giving me you. I love you Baby Boy and I always will.

Love,

your birth mother

Dear Sweetheart,

Dear Sweetheart,

You aren't even 11 months old yet and you are already taking steps! You are a brave little guy and I am so proud of you. Your mother says that you will take 2 or 3 steps and them fally down on your bottom; thank goodness for those padded diapers! Yesterday, though, you too 13 steps! I can hardly believe it. Your mother is going to get some pictures for me so that I can see it for myself. You are growing up so fast darling and I love you for eternity. I am so proud of you, but do me one favor will you? Slow down on the growing business, you are my little baby boy and I know everybody has to grow up, but you can ease up on the growing business, if you'd like, I won't mind. Before you know it, you are going to be running around and tearing up the house with your brother and sister and then you'll be going to school! Eek.. I need to stop thinking of such things. You may be walking already, and school may be around the corner, but for right now you are my baby boy and I will always love you, child of my heart.

Love,

your birth mother

This is Powerful

Story of Gianna Jessen

-Survived despite her mother's attempts to terminate her life-

My baby boy turns 1 year in two months. It's crazy to me that so much time has passed and yet his scent is very much still real from those few precious days we spent in the hospital together. I've been thinking about him a lot lately. Part of me feels... like I'm on the transition of disconnecting and I am scared to death to do that. I can't explain why because it doesn't make sense and I know that I've probably talked about this in a recent post. When you are a birthmother, there is a very small piece of you that hides deep down inside your soul that lurks and brews and festers and you know that it's there but you ar afraid to acknowledge it's presence because what it whispers to your heart late at night is horrifying. Those whispers that keep you from sleeping... are a nightmare all their own. I don't mean to be dramatic. The whisper that I've never given room to grow and have kept hidden in the recesses of my being is that I've abandoned my son. I know what you're thinking, "Other Mother, that is not rational thought." And no one knows this more than I do. I didn't dumpster ditch my baby... I didn't abandon him, but I left him. I walked (rather, I was pushed in a wheel chair) away from my baby. I left him in the hospital. And, though I know that amazing people were waiting for him and I've got the pictures of them first meeting him... I still left him. How do I adjust to that knowledge? How am I supposed to live with that understanding? Well, for a long time, I've ignored the whispers.
When I think of my son now, it doesn't hurt the way it used to. It hurts differently. It's not this aching where every nerve is threatening to explode with his memory. Instead, it's like... the pain of memory itself. I miss him- desperately, I miss him- but, I am okay. Before, it hurt to breathe when I would think of him because his absence filled every aspect of my life. I would talk about him to people, but it was in a safe, ambiguous way. I can now talk openly about him with complete honesty and exposure of my soul and it hurts still, but I can talk about him... really talk about him. And, that's why I know the disconnect is close and in order to accept that disconnect into my life and fully move forward I need to allow the dark whispers to be heard by me. And that's what is scary, is by moving on and allowing the disconnect to occur... feels like a whole new form of abandonment. Does it ever end? I imagine that it does not. I imagine that with my next pregnancy, that I can be able to expect a lot of these same feelings, but I also imagine that with each new step the pain also changes. It really is like death. That's the only way I can explain this loss. When you lose someone you love deeply to death, you mourn their loss and the process of grieving has very specific "guidelines", so to speak. The thing about grief is it can hit you out of nowhere... you think you've graduated to the next step and a week later, or a month, or 10 years later, you find that you are right back where you started... accepting what has happened. Technically "acceptance" is the "final" stage, but I think that all acceptance really is, is the beginning of the cycle all over again... you learn to accept and you transition into your new stage in life and then something happens to bring back all the memories and before you know it you are right back where you started... denying that something is wrong and closing off to people, bargaining with something unknown to you for something bigger than you to occur, drowning in a sorrow that you feel will swallow you whole... or my personal favorite, raging- raging at anything and everything- just to finally "accept" that life as you know it, is what it is, and that it will continue to be what it will be.
I don't mean for this post to be so depressing. To be honest, as I sit here writing, I am in a very zen-like place. But, I know that I need to address the fears that I feel in order to move on to the next place in life and to become stronger and have more faith in myself. It's difficult, but it can be done, and as for my son... he will always be my son. He is the child of my heart, that is something that can't be replaced... it's just that his position in my life changes and becomes better and more sacred with time, like memory.

Dear Sweetheart,

Dear Sweetheart,

Yesterday you became 10 months old. You have grown so much and are still a chunky monkey! You have no idea how happy it makes me when I see your rubber-band legs (that's what we, in my family, call cute chunky legs that have rolls in them). Your mother tells me that you are all over the place and getting in to everything and that you're a wuick little guy... I'm sure it can be exhausting for your mom, but news like this makes me laugh with joy. You amaze me. You are leaning so much every day sweetheart and it just comes naturally and that amazes me. You've got some teeth now and your smile still lights up my heart. I love you so much Baby Boy. You are my joy and my peace. You are my everything. I love you child of my heart.

Love,

your birth mother

BirthMom Buds Blog: Spotlight Blogger: Meet Kathryn

Hello all, I can't believe it is already September! eek... time is traveling by too quickly. Things have been extremely busy in my life. I was promoted and given a raise, holla! And, I can't believe I'm saying this, but I absolutely love my job. Don't get me wrong, I still deal with the crazies on a daily basis, but I can now claim them as "my crazies" as I am the direct assistant to their case. There is so much I want to blog about and I need to sit down to update my blog. One thing I would like to address your attention towards. I was a guest blogger on BirthMom Buds and you can read my post by clicking on the link below. For any of you out there who seriously want an indepth look into a birth mom's heart, BirthMom Buds can offer you that ability and from the perspective of many different birth moms. I hope you enjoy and I miss you all.

BirthMom Buds Blog: Spotlight Blogger: Meet Kathryn

Sincerely,

Other Mother

A Healing Prayer

A Healing Prayer
-Author Unknown-

I am capable. I am worthwhile.
I am beautiful. I am lovable.
I shall accept both my strengths
and my weaknesses for they are me.

I shall never again believe the lie
that if I make a mistake,
I am a mistake.
My mistakes are the learning tools
that I shall encounter on my journey.

When I learn from my mistakes,
I give them meaning
When I give my mistakes meaning,
I can begin to forgive myself,
I can begin to heal.

I shall not use my mistakes as excuses
to give up on me.
My mistakes are not me.
I shall seek the wisdom to nurture
my heart, mind, body, and soul
so that I may feel more centered.

Providing an energy reserve that allows
me to climb the mountains in my own life,
Providing an energy reserve that allows
me to love and support others
who are climbing a different mountain,
providing an energy reserve that allows
time for friends, play
and the celebration of life.

I shall allow myself to feel capable
so that I may seek excellence.
I shall allow myself to feel sadness
so that joy may return.
I shall allow myself to feel joy
so that I may be revitalized.
I shall allow myself to feel afraid
so that I may find courage.
I shall allow myself to feel alone
so that I may know me.
I shall allow myself to feel beautiful
so that I may feel free.
I shall allow myself to feel lovable
so that the loving may seek me.
I shall allow myself to feel pain
so that I may heal.
I shall allow myself to feel worthy
so that I may fulfill my purpose.

I take responsibility
for creating my own life story
through the choices I have made;
to blame others is to give away
my personal power.

Who will I allow to write
the next chapter of my life?
I shall seek the courage to believe
in a loving God who will
laugh with me in the sunlight or
cry with me in the darkness.
I shall make a small difference on this planet
through the work I do.
When I leave I will have done my share.

I shall live, love, laugh,
and learn on my journey.

Dear God,

Dear God,

I don't understand you. I'd like to but you make it difficult for me to believe the plan you have for me. I know we haven't always been on the best terms and I know that I am stubborn but this couldn't be what you had in store for me. I believe in you and you believe in me too, but I wish that you wouldn't think me so capable to survive the things you put me through, so please, what is it that I'm not seeing? I won't survive another of your lessons, so please God, what is it I'm missing? You've blessed me with a glimpse of your heaven and it's everything I've always wanted but never thought could be mine and then like a thief in the night it's stolen from my sight and I'm left longing for the memory that is oxygen to this suffocation you call life. And I'm tired. Each night in my sleep I am shown the end of my grief and he is beautiful and I remember why all the pain is worth it and then the morning steals away my dreams and my soul decays with each added moment of the day and the heaven that was in my dream seems so far away. And I'm tired and afraid to sleep because when I wake I no longer feel safe in the morning's light. I want my family- those angels you show me in my dreams... if that's the end prize then I will put up my best fight in order to survive, but it'll come at a cost that is too scary to imagine so please, let me feel your heaven again because this world is wrong and hard to belong to. My dreams are in your hands and I'm trying hard to believe in your plan and I may not get each day right, but I'm trying my hardest to find your light in this world's endless night... help me get this right.

Sincerely,

A Birth Mother

Copyright Other Mother

Dear Sweetheart,

Dear Sweetheart,

Nine months ago you were born on Friday the thirteenth. I never used to be a fan of Friday the thirteenth because it never brought me any luck, until you came in to my life and now this day is a sacred day for me and one I will always honor with reverence. I love you so much. I have been thinking about you all day. I wish that I could bottle up the joy I feel in my heart when I think of you or see your beautiful smile in the pictures your parents send to me; if I could bottle that feeling... there would be no sorrow in the world Baby Boy. When I am sad, all I need to do is think of you and then my heart smiles and I send my thought up in a prayer and ask the good Lord to deliver it to you in the form of a kiss. That way you can feel my love even though you don't remember me. You are angelic. You are perfection. You are joy. You are love. You are my everything. You will always be the child of my heart. I love you Baby Boy.

Love,

your birth mother

Have you ever been completely aware of how deeply you've hurt someone? It's not a good feeling. I didn't realize how deep the hurt was and where it was coming from, but I now have information that I didn't have before and... no wonder the hurt for this person is so deep. And, mother, I'm not taking on blame that doesn't belong to me... I know when I've done wrong and I've done immense wrong, however I will say for my defense, if I had been given all the information up front and not just hand selected details then... well, I would have been more understanding. And, dear readers, rather than giving you only hand selected details... I'm talking about Mango here. You know what? I have never held on this long to a guy. I am... completely in love with him, even after all the fighting we've been doing. We talked a little bit a couple of days ago and I was given information that I never had before that changed a lot... none of this is going to make any sense at all unless I am completely honest in details and I'm not going to be because the information doesn't just involve me and I am going to respect Mango's privacy.

This is what we are left with. The cold... soul chilling facts. Mango and I will never be together again and that's based on what he wants, not what I want... and I have to live with that. I can't force him into a relationship with me and I never would take him on those terms... I only ever wanted him willingly. I still love him and I believe that he still loves me, we are both just... living with a lot of hurt and can't make it work between us. And it hurts a lot. He is under the impression that I will forget about in a days time... he's got a lot of anger in him right now, but I don't believe that it is pure anger, I know that it stems from hurt... we all emote hurt differently. Some of us pretend that nothing is wrong, other's destroy everything in their path, and some hide in bed under their covers vowing to never to step foot in the sunlight again. What Mango doesn't realize is that he is on my mind every second of the day, he is the last thought I think before I fall asleep and he is the one I dream about, and when I rise in the morning, I rise with the sorrow knowing that... all the dreams that Mango and I had about sharing our lives together will never come to fruition... and then I get sick to my stomach knowing that one day he will move on and find a woman that is... not me. And that thought kills me, so essentially, every day- every second of every day- I am mourning the loss of what could have been and still holding on to a sliver of hope... pathetic hope... that I will wake up soon from this awful dream. But, I don't wake up. This is my life.

Families Supporting Adoption Conference 2010

I have known about this year's FSA conference since January and have been so excited to attend. I went to speak with my boss the beginning of July about getting this past Friday off so that I could attend and she told me that she couldn't risk not having me in the office because another co-worker had already asked for the time off. Needless to say, I was extremely ticked off because the co-worker who was out this last week is never in, in the first place. I used to refer to her as Wednesday-Virus-Girl and now I just refer to her as Infested-Walking-Plague-Woman, seeming as she is never at the office due to all of her various illnesses... every single week. So, I bitterly continued to do my work throughout July while dealing with many other emotional explosions in every aspect of my personal life. This last week, on Tuesday, I went in to my boss and told her, "I completed everything that needs to be done for the week, yesterday, and all my cases are current, I will have the parent time calendars out by Thursday, and I have made sure that there will be phone coverage all day on Friday as well as someone here to assist you in mediatons. I wanted to inform you of this and confirm with you that I will not be in the office on Friday because this adoption conference is something that is very important for me to attend. I need and deserve to go to this conference." She looked at me a little surprised, asked a couple of questions regarding specific deadlines for the week, to which I put her fears to rest as everything that needed to go out went out the previous day and then she said, "Enjoy the conference on Thursday."

I completely enjoyed the conference. I met so many amazing people. I learned so much about every aspect of adoption. I sat in on a Birth-Father panel and listened to men speak about their experience and perspective as a birth father and it was extremely touching. A man on the panel said something that struck me deep inside. He said, "Even though a father doesn't go through the physical changes that a mother does during a pregnancy, inside the father is racing." That was so powerful for me to hear. As a birth mother it is easy to take on the attitude of hatred and disgust towards the one who helped to get her pregnant and I have seen it so many times in various birth mothers that I've come across where they hate the birth father... and every other man they come in contact with, for that matter. In a case such as mine, some would say that I have very right to hate Baby Daddy because of how our relationship ended and the fact that he wasn't there throughout the pregnancy... but, that was my choice. He never knew I was pregnant and maybe that was wrong of me to keep from him. Some birth mothers I've met view the pregnancy as the man's fault. I think that perhaps they forgot that very important lesson in life science that... it takes two to make a baby. I never hated Baby Daddy. I was extremely hurt by him and the hurt I feel has been somewhat damaging to a certain degree... but, I got the best part of him and I feel sorry for him that because of the lifestyle... the very dangerous lifestyle he leads (if he's even alive anymore) he will never know the feeling of holding a child that you created for the first time. I don't hate him. And, I was fully aware of the risk I took every time Baby Daddy and I had relations together. Listening to the birth fathers on the panel helped me to understand the delicacy that comes along with being a birth father. Being a birth father is just as delicate and emotional as being a birth mother.

I also went to a seminar on Infertility that really opened up my eyes. Infertility is not something I will fully be able to comprehend, but it helped me to fully appreciate the couple who adopted Baby Boy. My greatest fear while getting to know families was that whoever I chose would never love my son as much as I did because he wasn't them... if that makes any sence at all. Sitting in this seminar on Infertility, I have a whole new perspective about adoption couples. They love the adoptive child like their own because they have wanted this child for so long and have dreamed about growing their family for so long! I can't imagine the sorrow that comes along with each negative pregnancy test... all their friends who are having children, the snide remarks from people who should keep their nose out of it, "Stop stressing so much and you'll get pregnant," "Just relax and it will happen on it's own," "You should do a clense. I bet that's the problem," "You really want children that bad? Take mine! I'm envious of the time you have on your hands." The insensitivity is enough to drive a person insane, I'm sure! I have so much more love and respect for these couples because their desire to want children and all the pain and hardship and let-downs that they go through... the sorrow that they experience... for girls like me who find themselves in a place they never expected to be, these couples are our angels. These couples are capable of more love than I will ever understand.

I was also able to attend a seminar on Adoption Advocacy. Talk about lighting a fire within your soul! I learned so many amazing ways to advocate for open adoption and I can't wait to start implementing them. Utah is such a perfect place to advocate for adoption, but I am so excited for when I move out to New York to start advocating out there. And, as a birth mother, I have so much to give. I am not afraid to share my story... even though it is riddled with so much sorrow and pain, it is the happiest story of my life. How could I not share my angel and his beginning with others? He saved me. He is my new beginning. He is my... everything. Girls who find themselves in the position I was in 18 months ago deserve to know that they have other options. They deserve to know that they can live and let live and bring so much joy to the world at the same time. As a birth mother, that is my mission and I am so excited to begin.

This conference rejuvinated me. It was like a splash of cold water in the morning after the long and horrifying sleep that July was. I found my spark again and my soul is burning bright with solid light. Open adoption is a gift! It's the chance at a new start for girls who have lost their way in the world and found that they aren't anywhere near where they had dreamed to be as a little girl. It's the gift of life for the child created. More importantly... it's the gift of family to a couple that wants nothing more than to have a child. Open adoption is a blessed gift! And, I am ready to share this message with people who don't know about it. I feel alive again. Good things are coming. I can feel it.

Every Day is the Same so Why Do We Expect a Different Outcome?

Have you ever been so exhausted that your soul has no words left to speak? As if that makes any sense at all. The only way I can explain it would be... the complete inability to converse with anyone outside of basic, shallow, and meaningless dialogue. In the last 4 days, I've worked 46 hours and I worked over the weekend as well. My boss is giving me more cases at work and I keep taking them because I am looking for every excuse I can find to not have to go home at night because there is nothing to go home to. Come the end of the day... I am so spent that I'm not even capable of... forming words into sentences that carry any weight or importance. I drive to work every morning looking forward to pissing off the clients involved in the cases that I handle because the one thing I am capable of speaking is anger and hurt and so I fight with them and let them know how bad they are screwing up their children's lives for their own selfish vindictive behavior at getting back at one another. I should be careful, otherwise I might lose my job... nah, my boss would never get rid of me, I'm underpaid and overworked... it's a good deal for her.

I am surrounded by divorce every day. Hour after hour I listen to husbands and wives argue about who gets the ice-scraper, or... the blender, but none of them seem to be too concerned over whether or not their 5 year old who is desperately acting out to get their attention and who is being used as collateral in the divorce should get counseling. No... they ignore their angelic 5 year old who is waiting out in the lobby with me listening to her parent's argue over the ice-scraper. And we- me and her- listen to music and color and she talks to me about the two of us turning into unicorns at night and flying away together so that we can be a family and then she tells me, "I wish you were my mother because you laugh at my jokes. You laugh and if you were my mother, we would be happy." And I want to scoop her up into my arms and run away with her and take care of her and protect her against her own parents who are now being restrained by their attorney's from attacking one another. I know what you're thinking, I'm making this all up. But the thing is that I'm not making up any of this. This is what I am surrounded by... all day for 5 days a week, only this last weekend I took a bunch of binders home so that I could research the therapeutic goals of another child in one of my cases and whether or not her parent's are even taking her to therapy. It's disgusting... because they aren't and she is suffering.

And, I think I'm done with it all. The risk, that is. I'm beginning to think that happiness in marriage is all based on luck. Either you find that person that you... like, the two of you work together so well that the teamwork of the marriage occurs naturally- not effortlessly- but naturally enough to where the disagreements... aren't the focus, but the thing that makes your marriage stronger because in the eternal picture, they are just disagreements and can be worked through. If that makes any sense. But how often does that really happen? I want that to happen and I thought that it was and then something happened that I don't even know where to start explaining because it hit me out of nowhere and I'm... I'm defeated. And... my soul is at a loss for words. I don't want to feel this way ever again. I apologize now, perhaps a little too late, but this post... it's going to be effing depressing, but I have to get these... I have to get this out.

I have lost too many people in my life to risk opening up anymore. And I give up. It's not just a matter of losing people either. Losing loved ones is a tragedy, but what you never expect is the piece of yourself you lose along with that loved one... you never see that coming, no matter how often it happens. Before you know it, there isn't anything left of you to lose... you're just a shell. What happens when that shell breaks? That's what scares me the most. I don't know that answer and I don't want to find out what that answer is, but I feel it's close and so I choose to no longer open up. And, please... please don't offer me words of encouragement or words of wisdom because I'm not looking for that. I just... I need to protect myself. I don't trust too many people, but I want to, but... I keep learning over and over again that more often than not... people don't deserve your trust... they don't know how delicate it is and they... don't know how delicate a thing trust is and so I'm done. I'm done offering my trust, hoping it won't be shattered... just to have it trampled on and I think this is a good thing. I've thought about it a lot and I will be fine alone. I'll be fine alone. I think it's safer that way.

Blue by Leigh Nash

Everything is green.
Everyone is blue,
And me too.
Be careful for what you dream
'Cos my dream was you
And you came true.
I tried to know you,
But to know you is to be blue.
And I'm blue.
And I'm blue.
I'll say goodbye to me.
I'll say goodbye to you
'Cos I can't move.
The world won't bend you know.
For you to see the love
Is worth all the trouble.
I tried to know you.
But to know you is to be blue
And I'm blue.
And I'm blue.
There is a dream that I can't fit in.
There is a dream that I can't fit in.
A lead that I can't fill-
All of my hopes have been diminished-
You're not having it and
I'm trying to give.
I tried to know you.
But to know you is to be blue.
I said goodbye
But I'm still in love with you.
And I'm blue.
And I'm blue.

The Emerald City

When I was a child my favorite movie was The Wizard of Oz. I remember being five years old and telling my mom that she was wrong when she named me my name because I was supposed to be named Dorothy and I remember pleading with her to change my name and she always told me the same thing, "Other Mother, when you are older, if you feel the same way then you can change your name."

I remember an incident at a shoe store with my mom when I was the tender age of six. I had my heart set on this pair of red high heels but my mom refused to buy them for me. They were beautiful and I wanted them... no, it was more of a need. I needed these red heels. My mom would not budge and I had a total melt down. I used to be jealous of people who were born in the month of May - for the longest time I was jealous of people born in the month of May because their gem stone is the emerald. If you couldn't tell by now, I've had an unhealthy fascination with Dorothy and her adventure(s) in the Land of Oz for quite some time.

I lived in Missouri for three years of my childhood and I loved it out there because it was so green. Humid, but so very green. I felt as though that was the closest to the Emerald City that I would ever get because I was surrounded by green and, as sickly fascinated by the World of Oz as I was, I was no dumby- I knew there was no such place made entirely of emerald, but all the same I still deeply wished there was. There were so many trees around where we lived and they were huge adult trees... in fact, I remember calling them Grandpa trees because they were bigger than adult trees and I loved to climb them. My family is Mormon and during the time we lived in Missouri... how should I put this? Mormons and Baptists, for whatever reason, do not get along and we were surrounded by Baptists. My first grade teacher was Baptist and she hated me... and I'm not exaggerating when I say this. She always made degrading comments towards me. She would say things like, "Disgraceful child! No wonder you're wild, you filthy Mormon." And she often times called me the Heathen Mormon from Utah in front of the entire class and would make me stand in the corner as she taught the class about the rebel Mormons that settled the heathen state of Utah and how I must be punished and humiliated because I don't believe in Christ.

I wish I was making this up, but I'm not. It's horrifying to know that people really do hate in the name of religion, but it exists and I've experienced it first hand. I was hardly ever allowed to play at recess because I could never do right by Mrs. Allenbaugh (and just so you know, I haven't given her a different name to protect her identity). No matter how perfect I would write out my letters or read from the beginner books in class (I was at top of my class for reading), she would always find something wrong, which meant I usually went without recess. Furthermore, she was always punishing me to the extent that I often stayed after school to clean toilets with the janitor. He was a really great guy.

When I would get home from school, I would go out and play with my friends. All of our play occurred out side. Basketball, Hide-and-Seek, Cops and Robbers, Sardines- anything and everything- but my favorite activity was when we would climb trees and imagine worlds that were above the ground. We would be up in the trees for hours... those of us who were stallworts that is. Oftentimes, I would be the last one left in the tree and I still wouldn't come down for a while. The trees were safety because I was hidden. From where I sat, I could see everything and still remain unseen... and everything was green. Have you ever stared at leaves in the trees? Have you ever laid on your back on the ground and stared at individual leaves in the trees? When the sun shines through them, they glow like emeralds in the light. If I had been given the option to live in a tree as a child, I would have taken it in a heart beat. I would lay back on a thick branch and dream of being in Oz... or Wonderland... but most days, it was Oz and I was in the Emerald City and I was Dorothy and no one hated me, instead they loved me because they knew that I was going to make things better. I love trees.

You are probably wondering, "What is Other Mother thinking?" What I'm thinking is that I should have spent more time in the trees when I was a child. I've been thinking about this for days now. I've been experiencing some... I've been under a lot of... I've been rather stressed lately and it is taking all I have to not run away. The scary thing about that last sentance is that it's true... it's taken all I have to not run away. I just found out about a serious illness of a dear friend of mine who is my age, my job is destroying my soul, my boss won't give me a raise and is giving me even more work every day, I want to get back into school but can't afford it, my boss won't allow me to take any vacation time because as she says, "I need you here every day babe, sick or not." I have to find a new place to live in about 2.5 weeks, otherwise I am homeless. I'm working 10-11 hour days with no breaks and no lunches, my only break being a bathroom break in the late afternoon that I milk for all it's worth as I stand- yes stand- in a bathroom stall facing the corner and zoning out for 10 minutes. And to top everything off, I said some things to some people that I care about that were horrible and... completely unecessary. I'm worn out and exhausted and just broke up with the greatest man I have ever known because... I broke under all the pressure and I took it out on him. The worse thing, though, is that I did this to him at a time in his life when he needed me the most.

All I've been able to think about is how badly I wish I would have spent more time in trees as a child. I've thought long and hard about this for about a week now, as well as played over every second in my brain how badly I hurt the man I love most and hoped to spend the rest of my life with... and the one thing that makes any sense at all to me is that trees are meant to be climbed. I should have spent more time in the trees as a child.

[Untitled]

Love is safest
When it's kept
In the dark-
Hidden and unannounced,
Like half a thought
Lodged in your chest that
Bursts from your lips
Drenched in immediate
Regret.
When Love dies, it's
Hard to cry because that means
You have to
Feel. Numbness is
Holiness when Love's
Bliss no longer
Exists, which is why
I pray for Cold to
Take hold of my fire-
I wish for
Cold to snuff out my spark
And freeze my heart-
Let my heart's love
Bleed out and
Leave my soul without
Breath.
The sting of
Emptiness is better than the
Memory of broken chance and
Promises held at a distance.
Ignore me
And with your silence
Belittle my existence.
It's hard to exist in
Half-light and, darling,
We were bright, but
We were shadowed by a
Deception that
Stole us from Heaven-
We couldn't heal.
My love for you was real.
I no longer wish to
Feel.

Copyright Other Mother

Decisions, Decisions, Decisions

I have had so much on my mind lately it's... overwhelming. Have you ever felt stuck? Of course you have, we all have. What a silly question. But, you know, it's not that I feel stuck. I don't feel stuck. I'm not drowning. For the first time in a really long time, I don't feel like I'm struggling to keep my head above water... and I don't feel like the world is crashing down or caving in on me... I don't feel like there isn't enough air to suck in at an anxious rate. I feel... not a whole lot. I feel... what do I feel? Bored? No. What is it? I feel stagnant.

You know when you are outside and the summer sun is beating down on you and you love the warmth of the sun, but you wish there would at least be a light breeze? And then the breeze comes and you are thankful... and you can smell lilacs which always brings comfort because even if you can't see the lilac bush, you know there's one nearby. And then far off you hear the drum of thunder and you get excited deep in your heart and for the first time in decades a butterfly is let lose in the pit of your stomach and you hope it rains- not just any rain- but an all consuming thunderstorm that can bring life and destruction all at the same moment. And so you hope for rain. And then the rain comes and it's more fierce than you expected and the wind whips your hair cruelly and you are left feeling small and insignificant and like you are going to be torn away from solid ground. And after what feels like endless ages, the storm finally passes and all is quiet and after time you return to a sense of normalcy, whatever normal is.

And then days go by, and it's hot again and you feel like you are going to melt and you notice a puddle and the puddle is a brownish-puke color and there are pieces of grass floating in it and someone's bubble-gum wrapper and then you notice the funky smell of old water and you here mosquitos buzzing around and you begin to itch and wish for a light breeze and another rain storm... only there is no breeze and no rain, just a nasty puddle that is a prime nesting pit for mosquitos and disease with garbage in it. The water in this puddle has no life, no change, no peace, no power, no awe... just stinky water and mosquitos. That's how I feel right now. Stagnant. No opportunity for growth. No opportunity for change. No healing. No... anything, only nothing.

The thought occurred to me today that I actually love my job. I love what I do for work, I do not love how I am treated by my fellow employees. Well, a couple of them are great. My boss is an amazing woman, she took me on as an employee under conditions that most prospective employers would stear clear of- equal right employment opportunity or not- I was pregnant and single and she took me on as an employee. I am eternally grateful to her for this. However, I am still looking for new employment.

I've been toying around with the idea of moving to another state to become a nanny. I have some really good friends in the state that I am considering and I am desperate for change. I've been scared of this desire to move because I keep second guessing myself thinking that the desire resides in my "need" to run away but this time I'm not running from anything. Everything feels like it is as it should be and I'm happy about this. But, I'm not growing, I'm not doing anything but working and existing. That's not enough. There was a time where existing was enough and that was right after I placed Baby Boy for adoption. That was a hard time and existing was difficult, but I existed and now existing isn't enough- now it's time to live. This makes more sense in my head, I think. I hope that I am expressing my thoughts clearly enough. I don't feel like I'm living and I want to live. I've started to make a bucket list, not of events I want to do before I die, but a bucket list for the next year. Simple things that people take for granted, but that scare the living daylights out of me. And, I'll save that for another blog, but the point I'm making is that it's time to move away from Utah for a bit and live and learn.

On Monday I will be contacting a nanny agency that places in New York and Connecticut. Ideally, I would love to find a contract that lasts only 6 months, but I would take one that lasts 9 months also. My goal is to pay my car off and other small debt and then move to California with a dear friend of mine, we'll call her Freedom because that's what it's like to be around her. And, then I'll find a job out there and look into getting back in school. This is my life and I'm going to take it as it comes, but most importantly, I'm going to love every second of it. For right now, this is what I want to do and I'm basing this on what I feel is best for me. I used to base the next event of my life on what other's around me would do for their next move and that is very difficult and stressful. I am now taking my own life into my own hands and I'm going to live and experience and learn and write... I'm going to write. I can't wait. It's going to be good.

Good night dear readers and good night Baby Boy. You are my greatest inspiration Child of my Heart, you have been my greatest adventure.

Love,

your birth mother

Dear Sweetheart,

Dear Sweetheart,

Today you are eight months old! You are such a big boy and so handsome. Your smile gets bigger if that's even possible! Your smile reaches your perfect almond shaped eyes and when you laugh you laugh with your belly. You are ticklish everywhere and it is so funny to watch you try to resist a laugh when being tickled. Whenever I think of you I can see your smiling face in my mind and I hear your laughter and if I truly imagine hard enough, I can still feel the weight of your body in my arms as I rocked you to sleep the last time we saw each other. You are the light in this dark world and I love you with all that I am... down to my last tear. You are the child of my heart and there you will remain forever. I love you, my baby boy.

Love,

your birth mother

Dear Sweetheart,

Dear Sweetheart,

You are learning to crawl now. I can't believe how big you are getting. First you started rolling over and then you started sitting up by yourself, and now you are beginning to crawl. You also have some cute little teeth growing that are coming in. You will be 8 months old on Tuesday. I can hardly believe how big you are getting. Your smile takes my breath away and the memory of your laugh feels my soul with joy. You are my everything and you are growing so big! You will always be my baby boy. I love you for eternity child of my heart.

Love,

your birth mother

Never Trust a Bear

Today I went with my parents, my sister, and her two children to the old Wendover Airforce Base. We had lots of fun. My niece and I learned a very valuable lesson while there and that was to never trust a bear. I trust that you will very shortly understand the reason why. The following are documented photos of the incident.

Disclaimer: What you are about to witness may be considered frightening to children under the age of 25. Proceed with caution. Do not try this at home.




Brave Bear boards the plane.



Silly Bear, that's not the cock-pit...


Bear is found sleeping on the job.


Bear gets ready for lift off...


Bear having trouble with the equipment. I don't think he's going to get this plane off the ground.


Bear is nervous. This is his first flight.


Bear sneaking out the window.

Never trust a bear.

How To Stay Positive - "I can do anything good"

Everyone Needs a Father

Today is a sacred day. It is Father's Day. Like many other day's in America, today has taken on a highly commercialized and profitable industry. Sometimes it almost feels as though the day should be centered around the best gadget and who will get it for dad, or will dad instead get one of those horribly humiliating ties that will be stashed away in the back of the closet, only to be worn once- a year from now- when he is given another to replace it. My mind has been racing today with all sorts of emotions. I don't even know where to begin. Please forgive me if my rambling's seem insignificant or hard to follow... eventually, hopefully, a full-circle will be made, and what I am attempting to say will make sense.

My dad is the greatest dad any girl could ask for. He understands each of his children in a way I hope to one day understand my own children. I've learned many valuable things from my father like: how to start a camp fire with only one match, how to transplant flowers and keep them alive at the same time, how to whistle, and the importance of using proper grammar. That's just the beginning. There are specific moments in my life that will always stay with me and majority of them involve my dad.

When I was 10 my dad worked 70-80 hours a week in order to support his family. He also had cancer at this time and was having to go through treatment which was extremely exhausting for him. I remember one Saturday night, my mom took me and my sister to my dad's work so that the three of us could spend his break time with him. I was struggling with some bullies at school at this time and didn't know how to talk about it or what to do about it and I remember walking with my dad outside and he was asking me how I was and how school was going and I was giving him short answers, "fine," "good," "not much is new." He knew something was wrong because I wasn't as talkative as I usually acted and he was patient with me and let me tell him my struggles at my own pace. He never pushed the issue, but I remember after about 10 minutes of talking I finally opened up to my dad what was going on and I started to cry and he put his arm around me and we walked like that and he told me how much he loved me and how much my family loved me and how he would always be there to comfort me and pick me up when life was kicking me down. I felt safe and secure at that moment because I knew my dad was honest to his word and that he would never let me down and he never has let me down; he's always been there for me.

When I was 13 years old I spoke like a valley girl... you know, like... you know and whatever... like I said stuff like somethin' and whatever... you know? It was really obnoxious. It was so bad, I couldn't go more than 3 words without adding one of the above nonsensical words... it was that bad. Anyway, I was "talking" to my dad one day while we were out weeding the flower bed and I don't remember what it was that I was talking about, all I remember is that, to me at the time, it was important. When I finished what I was saying, I looked at my dad and asked him, "You know what I'm sayin'?" And he looked at me and said with a heavy sigh, "No. Honey, I have no idea what it is you are trying to say. I listened as hard as I could, and I have no idea what you are talking about. I would love to know what you are talking about because I can tell it's important to you, but I'm at a loss as to what you were trying to say." I was surprised. He went on to say something to the effect of, "Other Mother, the most important thing in this life, other than family, is your education and your ability to communicate. Your education and your ability to communicated effectively with other's is your ticket to greatness. You're better than somethin' and whatever'. You're better than, you know, the people out there who don't take advantage of the education they are receiving. You are better than what you are settling for... and, to be honest sweetheart, based on that conversation, I have no clue what it is you are settling for, but I don't like it because it's confusing." I remember that my feeling's weren't hurt by what he said because of how he said it, it wasn't degrading, it was truly confused, and I knew that what he was saying was right and from that day on I strived to communicate in a way that was understood and not confused. My ability to communicate is something that I know I'm strong with and I thank my father for the important lesson he taught me that day while we weeded the flower beds. But, mostly, I am thankful to him for not making me feel like an idiot when, truly, I was acting like an idiot.

When I was 16 years old I came home extremely late one night. I had had a flat tire and didn't know how to change it. Thankfully I came across a friend of mine who helped me, but the result was I got home much later than anticipated by my parent's and they were scared. I know what you are thinking, dear reader of mine, "Why didn't I call him on my cell phone?" Well, this was the dark ages, it was clear back in the year 2001 when teenagers didn't think it mandatory to be provided a cell phone by their parents... and so, I didn't have one. I got home and my parents were waiting and I explained to them what had happened. My dad flipped a gasket and yelled, "I better never hear of another person touching your tires!" I won't lie, I laughed at him... big mistake. I thought he was joking; turns out he wasn't joking... at all. I have my dad's temperment... and so, that night as we fought, neither one of us would back down and it progressively got worse and worse. The next day at school, I was so distraught because I kept playing over in my head the stupidity I displayed in arguing with my dad. It made me sick and I skipped out on one of my classes. When I tried to turn in a forged note the secretary (who, I'm convinced hated me)... she felt it necessary to call my dad to let him know I made it back from my doctor's appointment. I was in the office as she made the phone call and I remember hearing the words, "Oh, you mean you didn't sign this note excusing her from Algebra? Well, that's strange because I'm reading it clear as day and it is signed by you.... (eternal pause). Thank you for your time, you have a good day as well." The whole time, the secretary was staring at me with a look of accomplisment on her face and I sat there glaring at her. When I got up to leave she told me about detention and I told her that I look forward to spending more time with Mr. Nielsen and picking his brain about Beowulf as he happened to be my favorite teacher. I then asked her if she felt better about herself and then I walked off. When I got home that day I was horrified. I knew I let my dad down and I knew he would have a lot to say about it. I walked to his room and he was on a business call so, I waited patiently for him to be done. He sat on his bed and I remember looking at him and noticing for the first time ever, how tired he looked. We sat in silence for a while when he finally said, "Other Mother I've been thinking all day about our argument last night and it's made me sick to my stomach how we fought. I have been wondering to myself today how my behavior my affect you and your actions. I'm sorry for last night; I hope you'll forgive me. The saddest thing in this whole mess, Other Mother, is that you betrayed the trust of someone, and trust is the hardest thing to earn. You may never earn that woman's trust back, because you betrayed it, all you can do is try your hardest to gain it back and hope that you haven't broken her trust completely. I love you and I'm sorry about last night." I learned in that moment that trust is the hardest thing to earn and the easiest to break. I apologized to the secretary the next day and I told her that I understand she may never trust me again, but that I wasn't concerned about whether or not she trusted me because she obviously never did, seeming as she took it upon herself to make that phone call in the first place which wasn't a part of standard protocol and that I knew what standard protocol was as I was on office assistant for 8th period. I then thanked her for being the reason that mine and my dad's relationship was stronger that day than it was the day before.

When I was 22 year's old, both of my grandpa's died within 2 weeks of one another. It was a hard time. The hardest was the passing of my father's dad because there was a lot of family turmoil in my dad's family before his father passed away. His sibling's didn't want my family to come to the funeral, but we went anyway and it was very difficult. My dad got up and spoke and I will never forget the example that he was to me through his own difficulty. He apologized to his sibling's for any wrong he might have caused them. He told them that he didn't understand what went wrond or when that wrong occurred, but that if the anger that was directed towards him and his family was his wrong doing then he apologizes for all the hurt he caused. What you need to know about this situation is that my father was not in the wrong. In the mess that occurred before my grandfather's death, my father was not the antagonist. I'm not going to sit here and throw stones and say whose fault it was because... that's lame, but what I will say was that my father apologized for hurt he did not commit. Family is important to my dad. He's always lived his life as an example to his children that you do whatever you are capable of doing for your family when they need you. He raised his children to understand that "blood is thicker than water," and that all we can take with us when this life is over is familial connection. Family is all we have. Even though my father was not in the wrong, he apologized to his sibling's and let them know he will always love them and when they are ready to have him back in their life that he will be ready and waiting to be a part of their lives again.

I love my dad. He's the greatest example of good that I know. I wouldn't be who I am today without having his example throughout my entire life. There is no way I would have survived placing my baby boy in the care of a more capable family without the love of my family and specifically the love of my father. It is because of the love my father has given me throughout my life that I knew how important it was that my baby boy have a daddy, and a daddy was not something I could provide for him. Father's are irreplaceable. A father's presence, or lack there-of, in their child's life single-handedly can alter that child's life for the better or the worse. Fatherhood is sacred. Fatherhood cannot be replaced. Fatherhood is necessary for the healthy development of a child. I love my dad.

Happy Father's Day to all the father's out there.

Allow Me to Introduce You to...

... my alter ego.

Dear family and friends, as you read this post, you may find yourself blushing uncontrollably as you ask herself, "Is she doing this? Is Other Mother really exposing her insanity to the world wide web and all those who stumble upon her blog?" And, the answer dear loved ones o' mine is, "yes, yes I really am." So, gird up your loins oh ye faithful and be prepared to be amazed and horrified all in the same moment.

I've been thinking about my last semester at University a lot lately. It was, by far, the most difficult and rewarding semester I remember experiencing at University. I remember one class in particular. It was an American Literature survey class that covered American Literature of the late 19th century to Modern day American Literature. Being an English Literature major, I've always been a snob towards American Literature (yes, I know I'm American... ), while this truth is baffling, it also stems from an unexplainable source. While all Literature majors are united n their nerdom... there still resides a competitive nature amongst various literature studies where we all want to prove that our specific branch of literature studies is better than all the rest. It's like feuding football fans... the Utes vs. the Cougars... it just exists... against all reason, it exists. Therefore, I always thought American Literature was lame and childish in comparison to my major English Literature, but alas, I was forced to take this class as a pre-requisite to another class, so I did it. I went in with the mindset that I wouldn't learn anything because there is nothing to be learned from American authors, and I've never been more wrong in my life. While I could divulge all the wisdom I've learned from specific American authors, I won't, because the specific event from this class that stood out to me most is the one that I've been thinking so much about lately.

The very end of this semester, my profesor (whom I had/and still might have a crush on... I heart you Professor Carney... and Mango, baby, if you are reading this, Professor Carney has nothing on you because I love you) had our class research current authors that are residing in Utah. The author I had the privilege of researching was also a professor at the time at the University I was attending. Her name is Laura Hamblin and she is brilliant. I purchased her book of poetry and took from it like it was manna from above. Simply put, I was blown away by her words. They struck me deep within and caused me to think outside of who it is I thought I was and to explore what it is I truly believe and I have never been the same since. I was fortunate enough to go to a reading of hers and to hear her read her work with her voice... to experience the intonation with which she spoke and how it changed the meaning of what was being read. What fascinated me the most were her poems where she claimed an alter ego. The voice in these poems was so different from the voice that read through the rest of her work that I found myself captivated and I've always thought about the idea of an alter ego. I asked her where she got the idea for this other voice, how it came to her and she told me, "The voice with which these poems speak is the voice of someone who isn't being restrained by social constructs or other's telling her what she can's or shouldn't do. The voice in these poems is the voice of a woman without restraint. It's everything I want to be when I feel repressed." That's beautiful. And that's what I've been thinking about lately.

Subject shift.

For those of you who recall from a previous post, I have had an unhealthy fascination and sick admiration with Roller Derby girls from a very young age. I have been researching Utah's Roller Derby League in anticipation of trying out for it next year. I have also been extensively researching roller derby equipment so that I might purchase the correct equipment in order to train for next year's tryouts. I have been struggling to find a merchant of aforementioned roller derby equipment in the state of Utah, however the lack of roller derby merchants in the state where I live has not hindered my desire to push forth with faith into the roller derby unknown... in fact, I find myself even more driven to succeed.

Subject shift.

I have an amazing boyfriend. He is supportive of me in my goals and my dreams and my aspirations. I'm a lucky girl to be the recipient of his love. When I feel incapable, he gives me dozens of reasons why I am capable. He makes me feel fearless when I come up with a game plan to achieve my dreams. He also came up with my Roller Derby-girl name and I love it. Is it a name that conjurs warm fuzzies in one's heart? Absolutely not. Is it a name that will make my parent's glow with pride when they hear the commentator announce it in the arena? Not at all. Is it absolutely hysterical? It's the funniest thing I've ever heard. Is it perfect? Yes. Does it make me love him even more? Absolutely.

Without further ado, I introduce you my dear compadres to my alter ego (drum roll please).... Kiwi Trip-A-B*tch Unconscious.

Who is Kiwi Trip-A-B*tch Unconscious? She is fearless. She is honest to a fault. She is, potentially, tactless in her honesty, but honest all the same. She makes everything her cause and she fights for it. She is assertive. She isn't scared to throw a punch. She knows how to throw a punch. She is passionate. She fights for what she knows is right even it what is "right" to her is completely wrong to others who are too scared to fight for themselves. She sticks up for the underdog even if all the odds are stacked against him. She takes it as a personal insult when someone she loves is harmed or belittled and will cause pain (emotional or physical) to the one who harmed or belittled her loved one. She isn't afraid of lace or the color pink. She understands the necessity of tulle in some fashions. She believes that the 1980's were a major accident (excluding the hair bands) and doesn't understand why people feel the need to bring back certain styles from the '80's (no excuse is good enough to explain shoulder pads). She is determined to bring back old school gangster slang like, "yo diggity", "word to your mother" and "word!" back into modern vernacular. She uses words like "vernacular" and "misnomer". She sounds Irish when she's excited or angry. She doesn't give up; if it's important to her, she doesn't give up. Even though she hates cheerleaders, she is the greatest cheerleader to have in your corner when you need support and encouragement. She isn't perfect but she learns from the difficulties she faces. She lives her life tall. And last for now, but certainly not least, she is "possibly" known to swear like a sailor. Simply put, Kiwi Trip-A-Bi*ch Unconcious is the definition of bad-a*s, word!

You may be confused as to why any of the above is important in the first place. I understand the confussion, it's valid. I've been feeling down lately. I've been trying so hard to correct all that is wrong with me that I've been subconsciously putting myself down every day for thinking that there is something wrong with me in the first place. Does that make any sense at all? Am I perfect? No. Is anyone perfect? Surely not. And that's the point. Why is everyone putting themselves down? Why can't we accept our "faults" as part of who we are and embrace them as the "strengths" we need when we don't feel strong? I'm not making sense here. I feel vulnerable right now because I am telling myself I'm not good enough and I began thinking to myself about Laura Hamblin and her other voice. If I wasn't supressing myself and telling myself who I should be like and what I shouldn't be doing, then who would I be?

I would be fearless because I wouldn't recognize my weaknesses as something to be ashamed of. I would be honest in how I interract with people, even if the honesty that they need to hear is something they don't want to hear. I would passionately stand against the injustices I see around me that other's probably don't think to spend a second fretting about... and I would do that because I can and should because it affects me. I wouldn't be afraid to stick up for myself and be assertive when I don't appreciate how certain people treat me. I would know how to effectively defend myself, and trust me, if I knew how to do that, I could have avoided some horrible situations. I wouldn't think twice in telling someone who has hurt someone I love- beit a rude word said out of anger or whatever- what I think of them and where they can stick their opinion and I wouldn't be afraid to cause another fight because I know I can out speak them and what I speak would ring with honesty and shake the offender to their core with how unjust they've been. I wouldn't be afraid to be feminine and girly. It's stupid to say this, but I've always been afraid of makeup, and the color pink... I get nervous when standing in the hairspray aisle at the grocery mart, until recently, I was afraid of lace and I never understood tulle. I am beautiful... those words sometimes catch in my chest and I can't say them. I am beautiful and deserve to recognize this, and I'm working on recognizing it. I have nothing to say about the '80's except for, "Brett Michaels, I love you!" I've always felt that tall people are feerless because the world isn't as big to them as it is to a short person and this is an excuse for me to justify living my life in fear. I'm short and I'm powerful and I will live my life tall- there isn't anything I can't do. When I feel weak or unworthy I will aske myself, "What would KTABU do?" And I will remember that no one is perfect and what is imperfect about me is what is beautiful about me.

Dear Sweetheart,

Dear Sweetheart,

In 2 hours and 21 minutes you will be 7 months old. I've learend that Time passes by quickly when you least expect it and seems to drag on the more concerned you are that it will pass by too quickly. In 2 hours and 21 one minutes, it will be seven months to the hour that I first held you in my arms. I couldn't believe then how quickly you would grow out of your newborn infancy. I believe that at the moment I first held you I immortalized your infant perfection in my memory and it will forever be imprinted in my mind's eye. You are perfection and your laugh is Heaven. You are starting to teeth; you aren't enjoying it so much. Your gums are sore, but if tickled in the right spot, even through your tears you laugh out loud. You are such a good natured baby and your family loves you so much. Your older sister and older brother worship you. You still don't have a neck, neither do you really have wrists or ankles... to me your chub is perfection, but perhaps my favorite thing about you (besides your smell) are the dimples that take the place of where your elbows should be. You are a cuddle bug and my arms still remember holding you. I love you with all of my memory, with all of my hopes and dreams. You are and will forever be the child of my heart, my dear, sweet, chubby, and happy baby boy. I love you so much and I always will.

Love,

your birth mother

Something Wonderful

I can't believe how fast time can get away. I've been meaning to write about a particular event for a while now, but needed some time to organize my thoughts and then before I know it, June is here! As you all know, Baby Boy's adoption was finalized on May 19, 2010; what a special day that was for Baby Boy and his wonderful family. That following weekend on Mayy 22, 2010, Baby Boy was sealed for all time and eternity to his parents and siblings in a temple not too far from where we all live. Baby Boy's family was very wonderful to allow my parents and myself to come to the temple for this occassion. My parents were able to view the sealing as it occurred and I waited in the waiting room because I was not able to attend the actual ceremony. I thought I would be extremely anxious the entire time and at first I was, but as I sat in that spiritual setting, I couldn't help but realize how peaceful I felt with all that was happening not too far from where I was sitting. I know that I've made the right decision in placing Baby Boy for adoption and I know that I chose the family that he was meant to be with... he was always meant to be their's. That doesn't mean I don't have difficult days still because I do, but in that half hour to forty minutes that I was sitting in the temple waiting room, the only thing I could feel was immense joy for my baby boy and his eternal family, that and a calm peace that it's okay for me to move on.

After the sealing, I met both Baby Boy's sets of adoptive grandparents and other extended family. They are all wonderful people. My parents and I were then invited over to have dinner with all the extended family. I got to hold Baby Boy all afternoon. It was wonderful. He is perfection and so squishy and rolley and smiley and giggly. I got to feed him a bottle and rock him and cuddle him and... I will never forget that afternoon.

The following day, May 23, 2010 Baby Boy was blessed at church. His adoptive father gave the blessing and it was beautiful. My father wasw included in the circle of priesthood holders. Some of my siblings attended the blessing as well and it was really good for them to see Baby Boy surrounded by all the love of his new family. After Baby Boy's blessing, his mother asked me if I would like to hold him and of course I said yes. I looked down at my baby boy dressed all in white and couldn't help but cry at how beautiful he is and how happy I am for him that is part of such an amazing family and that my family was invited to participate in this very special day of his. I fed him another bottle and he fell asleep in my arms and I felt the peace again that I've only ever felt with him. My entire pregnancy was blessed with a calm that was so tangible to me and it was the calm that comes along with this little boy... and I felt that again and I watched him sleep. My family was invited over to a relative's house of Baby Boy's adoptive parents to mingle with everyone and have time to spend with Baby Boy and it was an absolutely wonderful afternoon. I was able to hold Baby Boy all afternoon again and as I was feeding him another bottle he pee'd and it leaked out his diaper and all over me, but I didn't mind (gross, I know!) because my baby boy pee'd on me. I laughed so hard, he also pee'd on my oldest sister, and she laughed as well.

When it was time to go it was difficult to leave him again. I got pictures of my family holding him and of him with his litte birth cousin who is just 7 weeks older and pictures of me and him that I will always treasure. And, I know I'll see him again because his parent's are wonderful people and don't discourage contact. It was hard to leave him again, but I also know better the people that are his family and that's calming in itself. That weekend was the best weekend of my life thus far because for 2 days I was able to hold the child of my heart. I didn't wash either of the blouses I wore for a week after because they smelled like him... spicy and sweet at the same time and earthy... I love his smell.

Dear Sweetheart,

Dear Sweetheart,

As of 9 minutes ago your adoption was finalized. It's done. You are officially and legally no longer my son, but you will always be the child of my heart. I am so happy for you. You are a part of such an amazing family and they've waited for you for so long. I know I've said this so many times before, but you were always meant to be their's. I am blessed to have had you for the time that I did. Baby Boy, you are more loved than you will ever fully understand and by more people than you will ever know. Congratulations sweetheart, today is a beautiful day. I will always love you child of my heart.

Love,

your birth mother

My Mango

This post is going to be written in free-style as I'm finding it difficult to organize and grasp all that I want to say on this topic because there is so much I want to say about my Mango. I know you are confused and eventually what Mango is will make sense, but for right now, I'm just going to talk.

As you all know, Mango is a fruit, it's also a color, and it's a flavor. To some people, Mango epitomizes a season, it's an experience, and to other's Mango is something unknown. To me, Mango is exciting and feels me with joy, Mango is liberation and consistancy. Mango is comfort and makes me laugh. I am inspired to be my best for Mango... Mango inspires me. To me, Mango makes me feel powerful and capable of letting go of all that I'm scared of and holding on to. Mango is healing. And while Mango was completely unexpedcted, Mango is here and welcome to be here. Mango is light in the darkness. Mango is familiar and completely new. Mango is playful and also completely mature. To me, Mango is something sought after for so long and now found. I love Mango.

Mango is a man. That's not his name, of course, that's silly. Who would name their child Mango? Then again, there are some people out there naming their kids Apple, and Moonbeam... who am I to judge? I call him Mango because of something completely sentimental and that would have, in my past life, made me gag to hear, so I'll spare you the details, but he's my Mango and I'm his Kiwi. Mango is a guy I've known for a couple of years now. Our friendship has always been completely casual and nothing more than a friendship. Things never moved in the direction of dating because- well the timing sucked- everytime I was single, Mango was dating someone and everytime Mango was single, I was dating someone. We lost track of each other and recently came across each other again and things are completely different. I found that I was completely open and honest with him about everything that's occurred in my life since we lost track of each other and he was completely open and understanding and kind and respectful and sincerely sympathetic... and I was grateful for that because I've always liked Mango. In the two years I've known him, I've wanted to date him and trust me I have tried my darndest to get this guy's attention... turns out that what works best for him is complete honesty. Apparently, he always felt the same about me and we finally communicated that to one another. We are dating now and I couldn't be happier- he is like the sun bringing warmth and light back into my life. It feels good. It feels really good.

Mango is very talented. He is very musically inclined, he sings, plays the piano, plays the guitar, plays the cello... this guy is... wow, amazing. He knows how to do hair, which means maybe there is hope for mine after all, haha. He is absolutely hysterical and I love that he can always make me laugh. He's got this energy that is... beautiful and alive. He loves life. He is kind and open with his feelings which is so wonderful for someone like me. He's been through a lot in the last 5 years, but his ability to look towards the future with hope is, possibly, my favorite thing about him- though I have a lot of "favorites" about him. He is old school respectful. He asked my mom for her blessing to court me... he used the word "court"... that's adorable and I love it. He reads poetry, his favorite poet is Edgar Allen Poe. He reads... period. His favorite book is Jane Eyre. He's familiar with Russian poetry, something I'm barely starting to look into... and there is a rumor (spread by his best friend... we'll call her Beauty), anyway, there is a rumor spread by Beauty to me that he even speaks a little Russian... and that he is fluent in Spanish. He selflessly helps those he loves. If he sees someone in need and he is able to help them, he helps them. He is loyal and true. He is passionate about anything he undertakes and he makes me feel beautiful and I love that. I am one lucky girl. Mango surprises me and takes my breath away (in a good way) every single day.

Dear Sweetheart,

Dear Sweetheart,

You are six months old now. So much has changed in these short six months that I don't even know where to begin. Your adoption will be finalized this week and you will also be sealed to your family for eternity, so this week is going to be a big one for you. My family will be coming to your blessing and we are all so excited to see you. I really enjoy the pictures that your mom and dad take of you and send to me. I just received an update in the mail from your mom and it was so much fun to read. You have lots of fun with your sister and brother and it warms my heart to hear the stories that your mom shares with me. It was very important to me that you grow up in a family with siblings. I know that there will be times when you don't always agree or even get along with your sister or brother, but just know that all of that is a regular part of life. What's even more important to remember is that your family will always be there for you. They love you. They cherish you. Regardless of what kind of disagreements are shared, your family will always love you and they are your number one go-to when you need support and love. You are such a handsome little baby boy and your eyes light up when you smile and your smile is my soul's greatest joy. I love you so much and always will my dear, sweet baby boy.

Love,

your birth mother

Regarding Mother's Day

MyHotComments

The Lights

"Face Up"
by Lights

It's late and I am tired, wish I could spark a smile.
The place is flying high but right now I want to be low
Don't want to move an inch, let alone a million miles,
And I don't want to go but I know I gotta go-
I just wanna feel alright.

The times you don't want to wake up
'Cause in your sleep it's never over when you give up.
The sun is always going to rise up
You need to get up, gotta keep your head up.
Look at the people all around you,
The way you feel is something everybody goes through.
Dark out, but you still gotta light up,
You need to wake up, gotta keep your face up.

Seems like the more you grow, the more time you spend alone-
Before you know it you end up perfectly on your own.
The city's shining tonight, but you don't see the light
How come you concentrate on things that don't make you feel right.
I just want to feel alright.

The times you don't want to wake up
'Cause in your sleep it's never over when you give up.
The sun is always going to rise up,
You need to get up, gotta keep your head up.
Look at the people all around you,
The way you feel is something everybody goes through.
Dark out, but you still gotta light up,
You need to wake up, gotta keep your face up.

I'm looking for more than a little bit-
I'm gonna have to find my way through it.
Gonna leave a mark, I'm gonna set a spark-
I'm coming up off the ground.
I won't be looking down.

The times you don't want to wake up
'Cause in your sleep it's never over when you give up.
The sun is always going to rise up,
You need to get up, gotta keep your head up.
Look at the people all around you,
The way you feel is something everybody goes through.
Dark out, but you still gotta light up,
You need to wake up, gotta keep your face up.

Fireflies Are Fairies in Disguise

When I was a young child I lived in Missouri for a time... no, not misery, Missouri- if only I had a dime for everytime I heard that joke, maybe I would have graduated University by now. I loved it there, Missouri that is. I was fascinated by the woods that surrounded one particular home. I remember my sister and I would spend hours outside exploring those woods, it's a wonder we never got lost. I have spent majority of my life living snug between two mountains, but I have never seen trees as dense as they were when I lived in Missouri and the glory of it was that the woods in Missouri were my backyard. Granted my family was not used to the poison oak and poison ivy that plagued the area we lived in at the time, but understand that we were quick to learn what ground covering to avoid and we spent many sleepless nights pink with calamine lotion. That's not the point of this blog, though. The point of this blog is that fireflies are fairies in disguise. I learned this fact at the tender age of seven.

I remember the first time I saw a firefly flying. I was standing out on the back porch of our home staring hard into the woods that were turning black as the sun quickly sunk below the horizon. I remember feeling scared because my mind was being taken over by my imagination and my imagination was playing through all the horrible scenarios of what could happen to me if I wandered alone into those woods... the scenes involved the Elf King tricking me into an eternity away from the safety of my family and among his kind, or gremlins sneaking around in the undergrowth that would trip you and then pounce on you before you knew which way was up again because the dark was so thick. I imagined witches that looked like trees that would wait for little girl's who left the safety of their home at twilight and would end up lost in the night surrounded by trees that were really witches waiting for those naughty little girls to go to sleep before they took them away and boiled them for soup. I know what you're thinking, and perhaps you're right... I might have been a disturbed little girl, but mostly I had an overactive imagination. But, I digress. It was during my imagining of witches as trees that I became so scared standing alone on that porch staring into the black of the woods that I felt hopeless. I thought to myself, "Isn't there anything safe in those trees?" My mind played back the recent events of it's memory- kidnapped by elf king, gremlins tripping and eating me, witches pretending to be trees waiting to boil me... I couldn't think of anything safe and that's when I saw it, a light... the most delicate of light floating against the backdrop of night. If you weren't looking with intent, you would miss it. It was like a slowly falling shooting star only it was floating, and like a shooting star it exacted the same outcome as I immediately found myself feeling hopeful just watching it knowing that if I made a wish as sacred as a prayer that my wish would come true, even if I were to become lost in the black of the forest. But, I didn't wish anything. I wasn't greedy and I wasn't in danger and at the time I couldn't think of anything that I needed. And, then there were more. They were filling my backyard, these floating shooting stars.

I became ecstatic and I called to my parent's. They came out and one by one my siblings came out behind them and there we were, all of us standing on our porch surrounded by floating light. My parent's explained to me that these were fireflies... the thought was silly to me, "flies that glow" thought I... such silly lies. I knew they were fairies. My parent's let me catch some in the jar to keep as a night light in my room that night and for many nights to follow. They explained to me as they laid me down to sleep that if I get scared in the dark, all I would have to do was watch the fireflies and I wouldn't be scared anymore. I nodded my understanding, but I never slept. I stayed up watching the light in the Mason jar on my dresser and I knew they were fairies. I was mesmerized by them and watching them filled my imagination with memories of when I was a fairy. I wondered how I became a human and why? I was thankful for the fairies because I knew they were the safety in the dark of the woods. I always knew that fairies had a bad reputation for being tricksters and causing more mayhem than order, but I never judged them for it and I thnk they appreciated me for that. I would lay awake for hours thinking up adventures in my head and then I would notice that my fairy family was floating more weakly and their light didn't seem as bright and this was usually always around the time of night that light breaks through, the early hours when the sun begins to make it's presence known again and I knew that something was wrong with my fairy family and so I would sneak out of bed and get the jar and release them outside my window. I'm pretty sure I heard their exclamations of joy as they soared away from me and I knew that I would see them again that night because although fairies may trick and cause disorder, they were the magic you could rely on, they would always come the following night and that comforted me. I never did find out where they went during the day. I suppose they became a part of the rest of the light, like they were pieces of the sun that brought light to the night to make sure that naughty little girl's who wandered alone in the dark found their way home again. I know that the witches hated them because it had been a long time since the witch-trees had had soup made from little girls and I can only imagine how hungry they must have been, but that didn't make me any less thankful for the fairies.