a sign.

Many people have asked if our adoption is open or they just assume it is because I document my updates to Mama L. Either is fine but I write to her as if I know her. as if she IS apart of our life… because her daughter is.

Today is International Women’s Day. I have seen so many posts regarding Girl Power, Unity, Rights and Strength of women and my first thought was a brave women; Mama L. Every time I think of her or write to her, I ask for a sign from God about her wellbeing. A few months ago that sign came from a Facebook post where she shared a picture of Brooklyn I sent her in an update (blogged in this post: A Hidden Emotion). Seeing that made me feel proud and it made me feel comforted. Don’t get me wrong it definitely caught me off guard but I was able to sit back and truly recognize and distinguish how it made me feel. Because today is International Women’s Day I wanted to post something to recognize the day and recognize the woman who blessed us with Brooklyn.

As I was driving home this morning from dropping my son off at school, I decided to take a different route than usual. I hit the light right when the left protected arrow turned red so I didn’t feel like waiting (yes, I can be pretty impatient). The whole way home I was trying to think of a way I could honor her without posting a picture of her (which I don’t have very many). I look over to my right and I see a women standing on the side of the street. My stomach dropped. I slowed down to get a better look and I immediately held my breath.

legs went numb.

thoughts flooded my brain.

It was her.

Mama L.

Standing right there. 3 duffle bags in tow. Waiting. Waiting for something. Waiting for someone.

I immediately turned around because I needed confirmation. Was this my sign I’ve prayed for?

She has some distinct features that one can recognize a mile away and I saw them or at least I thought I did or did I want to see them? As I was completing my double back, she climbed into a car and we drove separate directions.

I know that it was her.

I feel that it was her.

I asked for her.

I prayed for a sign from her.

Obviously I do not know the specifics of her life, where she was going, what she was doing… and I worry about her.

At that moment bk’s life flashed before my eyes- the birth, the first feeding, our first outing. I know how Brooklyn is doing, where she is, her happiness, her giggles, her cries, her needs… because of Mama L.

Because of her brave decision, I do not have to worry about Brooklyn and SHE doesn’t have to worry about her daughter either.

“a child born to another women calls me mommy. the magnitude of that tragedy & depth of that privilege are not lost on me.”

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be brave.

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Adoption from an Adoptee.

Adoption Awareness Month was the month of November and it did just that… made me entirely more aware of the total three sided adoption triad. I was privileged to read stories from birth mothers sharing their views on their choice to place and all their emotions both immediately following and months even years passed placement. I watched videos made by adoptee’s regarding their personal views of their adoptions. I was blessed to watch friends become parents through adoption for the first time after years of struggling. To see all the different angles of adoption, vulnerability with the aftermath of choices that were made, and to feel the warm and even the hurt was truly inspiring. Through all these vulnerable stories shared, I was filled with overwhelming emotions. The most surprising emotions came from the adoptee aspect. See, I have occupied one side of the adoption triad for 32 years as an adoptee since birth. I have never really put much thought into my adoption except for the common questions about my biological parents and personal demographics and ethnicity. Not because I wasn’t heavily impacted but probably because I never knew any different.

My parents (yes, my adoptive ones) struggled with conceiving naturally after many years of trying due to endometriosis. My sister was also adopted at birth and we have never really known differently. It has been our story from the beginning; a conversation always open to have. Questions were (and still are) encouraged and welcomed. Biological information was limited as both of our adoptions were private and closed but I always knew that when the time came I was motivated to reach out and seek further details.

Adoption, to me, goes beyond where I came from but who I allow myself to become. Adoption does not define me but my experiences and outlook does. Throughout the years, my placement has helped me find my own identity; who I really am outside the label of an “adoptee”; outside my ethnicity; outside of my roots. Identity doesn’t only mean your ethnicity or race or what you were born with or without. It means you find where you belong. You can develop your own character filled with your own opinions, beliefs, likes and dislikes. Discovering what makes you unique and distinct can truly make you shine and excel as your life unfolds.

I remember reading in a Facebook group coming from an adoptee saying her adoption took things away from her. Made her invisible; unknown. I wanted to reach through the screen and hug this person. To have such a weight, such a burden, seems heavy and dark. I was asked in a different forum about “being an adoptee” and if I felt lost or disconnected; if I held blame to my biological parent for making their choice of placement. I was proud to really dissect these questions because I knew that I didn’t come from a place of isolation or even sadness. I will always be proud of my birth mom but it wasn’t until recently that I attempted to see through the eyes of a birth mom. Turning my gratitude into thoughts of courage and bravery.

Growing up an adoptee I have been able to find my own peace and comfort with the adoption. I ask questions and equally so do my parents. We lean and learn about each other and our individual needs. Never before did I see the the worry of bonding until I became an adoptive mom. The phrases my parents feared we’d speak, scare me to death envisioning it can be toward myself. As a family, we light heartedly dream together about what my biological parents look like and what they enjoy in life based on certain attributes I possess. My parents have never given me glorified stories about my placement. It’s been real, raw detail and emotion. Since the adoption has been a developmentally appropriate, ongoing, open conversation in my family, I have found comfort and even joy. I am proud to be an adoptee. I am proud to be an adoptive parent. No doubt have I had negative emotions regarding my placement or where I come from, but I was taught that I am ultimately responsible for my own happiness, no matter where I come from. And that, that brings me peace and comfort.

Now, as an adoptive mom as well as an adoptee, I am privileged to explore the depth of my adoption and how it can and will impact the way I raise Brooklyn. I have a unique bond with her that I do not posses with Beckett, but isn’t that the case in any household with multiple family members? No two relationships are alike especially when it involves parents and children.

As I sit back, feel, ponder, type and delete repeatedly trying to jot down everything going on in my brain, I clearly see that the way I raise Brooklyn won’t be much different as I raise my biological son. I am empowered to carry on the open conversation concept of adoption as an adoptee within my family as I raise my children to the best of my ability. That is what I promised both of them as they entered this world.

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