Searching For Birth Mother 2

Over a year ago, my son was interested in searching for his birth mother.  He decided not to do anything until our next visit in person, which was September of 2008.  I brought with me a letter that his birth mother had written to him when he was ten years old.  Now 24 years old, he had never seen or read it till that day.  

I was more emotional than he was.  He seemed to find it interesting but I really couldn’t read how he was feeling about it.   He just seemed very calm and thought it would be fun to meet his birth mother and sisters some day.  He wanted them to meet his wife and son and to know that he was successful and being a  responsible adult. 

During that visit,  I gave him paperwork to contact the DHS of that state and left it in his hands.  To my knowledge, he has not done anything yet.  He is busy with his career, being a husband, and now a daddy.  He has an 8 month old son at this writing.  I am a grandma!

I am sure there will be more to this story someday… but at the moment, there is no time for searching the past.  

more about finding his birth mother

dr pers

 

Mom, I want to find my birth mother…

Every adopted parent wonders if the time will come when your adopted child will want to search and/or find his/her birth mother and father.   My time has finally come.

My son announced in December that he and his wife are expecting.  Baby check ups have led to my son wondering more about his hereditary health issues.  A phone conversation with him this month, led to a discussion about his birth mother. 

I have known a few things about her.  She was 14 years old at the time, a big factor in her decision.  Her parents had just had twins, so they felt they couldn’t afford another child at the time.   When my son would occasionally ask about his birth mother when growing up, I tried to answer as honestly and positively as I could. 

In this conversation, I told him that I had some pictures of her and other children.  Through the adoption agency, she sent a letter and pictures.  He has two sisters and a fourth child was on its way in 1994.   He was 10 years old and I thought too young to be given these pictures. He is now 24 and finding out for the first time that I’ve had this info.

He indicated that he would like to pursue locating her.  I took a package of adoption records and info to the post office today, the pictures too.  I feel most sad that I am not able to be with him and share in those moments when he views those pictures.   He lives too far away and I will not see him till late August.  He thought he would have more time now to start the process before the baby arrives.  And so it goes.       

This is just another step in the journey.  I have mixed emotions of course, and will write more about that in another post.

© 2008 drpers

 

Walk a mile in my shoes…

Ever wondered what it would be like to walk a mile in someone else’s shoes? When I was a child, I enjoyed trying to walk in my father’s worn, leather work boots. Even with tightening the long, leather laces, it took great effort to keep my toes curled and at the same time, lift those heavy boots and walk. Sometimes I fell on my face and sometimes I fell on my bum, and sometimes I just stood tall.

Ever wondered what it would be like to walk in someone else’s shoes? Ever wondered what it would be like to be the only white person in a shopping mall?  Ever wondered what it would be like to be the only black child in town? Ever wondered what it would be like to watch a clerk come out from behind the counter to watch your African American son pick out his favorite pack of gum? Of course there are already several children in the isle doing the same thing but their color is pale. Ever wondered what it’s like to be the only one not understanding the conversation, the laughter, either because you can’t hear or because you speak another language? Ever wondered what it would be like to go to school in a wheelchair? Ever wondered what it would be like to be different enough, that every time you enter a small town restaurant everyone pauses to stare?

Frankly, I wouldn’t want to trade life shoes with anyone else, mine are difficult enough. I still fall on my face, bounce on my bum and struggle to regain my composure. It makes sense to make friends with our walking shoes, change what we can, accept what we cannot, and be kind to those whose walk is different. Those who manage this simple philosophy, can stand tall in whatever size boot he or she wears. Size 8 anybody?    © 2007

Technorati tags: walk a mile in my shoes, differences, white and black, disability, standing tall, injustice

 

no home to "come home" to…

After making a popular Midwest city our home for ten years, new employment would require my partner and I to move farther west to a new state.

Besides missing the liberal lifestyle of this smaller city, I felt horribly guilty that my son would not have a home to “come home” to. He was in the military and I prepared him in advance, that it was likely that we would have to move, when either my partner or I found a new job. I told him, that I felt terrible that he would not have a home to visit when he wanted to come back to see his friends. When I finished apologizing, my 20 year old son didn’t whine, didn’t try to make me feel guilty, but simply said, “that’s life, mom. Things are always changing.”

While my son didn’t get high marks in school, he gets high marks for understanding the twists and turns of life. Gosh, I love that kid!

Technorati tags: new employment, home, leaving home, life, change, understanding

 

raising a sensitive guy…

When I was raising my son, I wanted him to grow up and be a sensitive guy. It was okay with me if he cried, which he rarely did and he always claimed that “it didn’t hurt.”

When he was about 9 or 10, I decided to start a new morning ritual while driving him to school. I had hoped that he would remember it someday and pass it along to his children.

This is what I wrote and said to him everyday: “Be strong and gentle, brave and kind, be the best BJ you can be, with body, soul and mind.”

BJ got married this past February, before leaving for his second tour of duty to Iraq. This big, strong Marine in his dress blues, started to become very emotional as his bride came forward to meet him. The tears ran down his face as his bride joined hands with him.

He pulled it together to be able to give his vows. When it was all over, he cried while hugging his mom, his mom’s partner, and his grandmother. He seemed to be doing fine until his mom stood up to toast the newly married couple. Again the tears flowed.

I have never seen my son cry so much in his life. I still can’t get over it. I don’t know why I am surprised when he turns out like I had hoped he would be!

Oh yes, he gave me a gift after the wedding. It was obvious he was excited. It was a beautiful, cherry wood jewelry box, with this engraving: “Be strong, mind, body and soul.” Gosh, I love that kid.

Technorati tags: sensitive guy, crying, marriage, parenting, mother and son, newly married

 

What other discipline is there besides spanking?

Since spanking wasn’t effective with my son, I began learning about parenting with logical consequences. The consequence must be related or appropriate to what the problem is. In other words, you don’t take away TV privileges for coming home late. A logical consequence of coming home late from a friend’s house is not being able to go to a friend’s house! A logical consequence of not riding your bike safely, is not being able to ride your bike!

We lived on a street that was about three blocks long, no cross streets or intersections. This was pretty safe for young children to ride their bikes, skateboard, etc. BJ was about 5 or 6, and I think in his first year of riding a two wheeler. I gave firm instructions that he could ride his bike two blocks to the corner, and then turn around. DO NOT go around the corner because I cannot see you. I repeated this several times. I watched the first time or two, and then went inside and watched from the living room window. It was not long, and he didn’t return. I walked out to the curb… looked down the street… no BJ! Before I could walk the two blocks down to the end, around the corner he came, pedaling hard. Grrrrrrrr …

The consequence for going around the corner, was not being able to ride his bike for a week.

After a week, the bike came out, I went thru the same pep talk. You can ride up and down, up and down, up and down, but DO NOT go around the corner. Within a half hour, he went around the corner. The bike was put up again.   

I could not simply put the bike in the garage… as he would try to sneak it out. I had to suspend it in the air with a rope. One day, I found him in the garage with a neighbor kid, standing on a chair, trying to untie the rope. Thankfully, I caught them or they both might have brain damage from a falling bike! Sorry, but another week was added to the consequence for trying to untie the bike. Two more weeks pass without riding his bike. Oh my, how he howled!

Finally, two weeks are up, and BJ gets to ride his bike! Mom is excited too! I get down to his level, look him in the eye and say, “ok son, you can ride your bike, up and down, up and down, up an down, but DO NOT go around the corner! Do you understand? Do you understand that your bike will be put up again if you go around the corner? “ “Yes mom,” he nodded his little head. I breathed a sigh of relief. My precious pumpkin, his sweet smile and the light in his eyes gave me hope. He’s finally learned his lesson! “Go to it son! Enjoy your bike! Remember, DON”T go around the corner!”

“No mama, I won’t.”

An hour later, I look out the window, no BJ. I walk out to the curb, no BJ!    Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.

I walk down and around the corner, there he is, a few houses away, playing in a yard with another child.  Exasperated, I picked up his bike and walked it back to our house. He came running after me, crying the whole way. The tears ran down my face as I took his bike to the basement and suspended it from the ceiling.

The bike stayed in the basement for a whole summer month that time. Parenting is exhausting… but we can’t give up. Their future depends on our persistence. They don’t call it “tough love” for nothing.

dr pers ©2007

 

Technorati tags: logical consequences, parenting, family, adoption, humor, discipline, lesbian, women, values

 

Another ADD kid on medication…

Another ADD kid on medication…

While my son had his sweet times and I love him dearly, he was a difficult child to raise. There was never a dull moment and it seemed like he was constantly testing me to my limits. At one point, I was so utterly frustrated and helpless with him, I considered contacting social services. It was devastating to find myself in this situation and I did not think I could handle him anymore.

I grew up in a home where spanking was effective. I only remember one spanking, and it was the last. Many of us repeat what is familiar and I began spanking as a form of discipline too. I was aware of the stories where spanking turned into beatings, so I had the limit of three whacks. Surprisingly, these did not phase my son at age 4, 5 or 6. He would laugh and say, “it didn’t hurt..” I can’t tell you the wild thoughts that ran thru my mind when I heard those words. I will tell you, he is lucky to be alive!!!

Amazingly, this low point, pushed me to having him evaluated. A neurologist had me read books about Attention Deficit Disorder and we evaluated his patterns and behavior. At age 6, this doctor decided to put him on medication and I worked on becoming more structured and consistent in my parenting skills. Life at home and at school began to improve.

I am thankful to this day that he was diagnosed early and didn’t fall behind in school. He always had trouble with math, but loved to read about military history.

He took meds till about age 15. At that age, it was difficult to tell if the meds were providing any benefit. When one of his teachers told me that BJ doesn’t seem to have that usual sparkle in his eyes, I decided this was the time to stop. School never came easy for him but he managed to accomplish enough to graduate from high school. He now tells me that he didn’t apply himself and wishes he would have put forth more effort. Sound familiar?

With 30-50 per cent of young black men not graduating from high school, I am proud of his accomplishment.

Today, he is a Sgt in the U.S. Marine Corps and putting forth his best.  dr pers ©2007

See other adoption articles  http://downrightpersonal.wordpress.com/tag/adoption/

Technorati tags: adoption, family, ADD, Attention Deficit Disorder, spanking, parenting, diiscipline, ADD and medication

 

Can I afford to adopt?

The financial cost is a major issue for being able to adopt. Domestic adoptions usually cost less than private and international.

When my home study was completed, my paper done, I thought I would have a year of waiting before a baby arrived. I had several costly expenditures planned, one of which was a new roof for my house and a Hawaiian vacation. I wanted to have these financial expenses out of the way and paid for, before making the final adoption fee.

Two months after completing all the paper work, and a few weeks after arriving home from my Hawaiian vacation, I received a phone call from my social worker. Sherry said, “I have a healthy baby boy recently born, do you want him?” I was shocked! I thought I had a year to save up money and prepare!

Prior to this, in my research about adopting, I visited a family of 10! They had adopted 6 children. I visited with this mom and dad about a number of issues and must have expressed at some point that I was unsure of having enough money. The father of 8 said, “if you wait until you think you’ve saved enough money, you’ll never do it. Somehow, it will all work out.”

I remembered this father’s advice and tried not to worry about having enough money on hand. I did have to scrimp and save to pay for the new roof later, but it worked out.

You will need to have a major portion of the adoption fees saved up, usually paid in several payments prior to receiving the child.  Somehow, it will all work out!   dr pers ©2007

Other posts in this series:

Reasons to Adopt a child

Hoping to adopt and they ask if you’re gay!

Surviving an adoption home study.

Will I love a child of another race?

Real grandchild versus adopted

Next post:  Another ADD kid on medication

 

Technorati tags: adoption fees, adoption, family, parenting, women

 

a "real" grandchild versus adopted…

Unfortunately, there are folks who refer to children by birth as “real,” therefore suggesting that children by adoption are “artificial.”

My folks were not of those types and neither was my sister. When the local pharmacist said to my pregnant sister, “I bet your folks are glad to be getting a “real grandchild,” my sister quickly and firmly replied, “we think of BJ as a real grandchild and mine will be the second. “  See why I love my sister? What a gem!

Folks will say stupid things like that… not thinking about the logic or meaning of their remarks.  Its very hard to be patient with ignorance, but helping the world along, one person at a time, is progress!  dr pers ©2007

Other posts in this series:

Reasons to Adopt

Hoping to adopt and they ask if you’re gay!

Surviving an adoption home study…

Will I love a child of another race?

Next post: Can I afford to adopt?

Technorati tags: grandchildren, adoption, real grandchild, ignorance, family, parenting

 

Will I love a child of another race?

After several delays of red tape and adoption papers not arriving in time (all too common), my mom and I changed our airplane tickets three times. Finally the day arrived and we excitedly flew to Texas to pick up this much anticipated baby boy.

I grew up in the Midwest, USA, where the majority are white, Scandinavia and speak “Fargo.” The minorities in the area were a few Native Americans. Since I had little contact with others of another race, I wondered what my reaction would be to this black baby that I would soon adopt. Would there be any difficulty in loving or bonding with him, or he with me?

A social worker in Texas met us at our arrival gate, exchanged greetings, and placed this dear baby into my arms. You would not believe how quickly, like an instant, my worries were over and fears dispelled. I immediately felt like his mother and he my son. Most everyone who has experienced a transracial adoption will tell you that love transcends race and color. Love also transcends adoption versus birth. If you have any fears that you will feel differently about a baby that is not your “flesh and blood,” I am here to tell you… it makes no difference. No one loves their child by birth more than I love my son by adoption.

Tip for potential parents:   No matter the color, the love and pride is just as great.

dr pers © 2007

Other posts in this series:

Reasons to Adopt

Hoping to adopt and they ask if you’re gay?

Surviving an adoption home study…

Choosing the health and gender of your child…

Next post:  A “real” grandchild versus adopted…

Technorati tags: adoption, family, love transcends race, transracial, parenting, single parenting, adoption fears