Cosmic Treasures (or Not)

This past week has been a strange one for me. A number of incidents occurred that I can only chalk up to the universe giving me yet another good old adoption bonk on the head. Consider the following.

I Heard Her Voice

My daughter posted not one, but two, YouTube videos to her public twitter feed. Naturally I listened and within a matter of moments was in tears. She was acting silly with coworkers. I heard her voice clearly, saw her mannerisms, how she sounds and moves her body. It was a bit overwhelming to say the least. Overall? Bittersweet. I appreciated the opportunity to hear and see her but oh, my, did it send me spiraling backwards for a few days.

(This is the moment where the adoption trolls usually come out and tell me I am violating my daughters’ privacy by watching her twitter feed. I disagree. If she puts it public for the entire world to see, I have free reign to watch it as well, so go away, trolls).

P.S. She has a really nice voice.

P.P.S.I HEARD MY DAUGHTERS VOICE!

If He Had Married Me

I left my employer of eight years two weeks ago. I started at a new employer, doing similar work but in a completely new industry. Imagine my surprise on the second day when I hear the receptionist page Suzan [Birthfathers Last Name].

Yes, I now work with someone named the exact same name I would have had if my daughters father chose to marry me in 1985 instead of, well, not marrying me.

Well Meaning Friends

My 30 year high school reunion is coming up this weekend. The invite went out via Facebook and there was an associated group. This means I can now see names/profiles of former high school classmates and they can see me even if we are not Facebook friends. I perused the list and also the ticket sale site to see who was going. I was pleased to learn a friend (now a resident of Florida) will be in attendance. Seeing her name on the reunion page reminded me of what must have been our 20 year reunion. I found my daughter just before that reunion and I had a line put in the reunion program directed to that friend. It simply said friend’s name, followed by I FOUND HER! I was so excited back then. I was so hopeful, so happy, so wanting to share my daughter with the world that had denied her. I knew friend would understand the message. She did. In fact, the instant she read it she sought me out and we hugged and cried.

Ten years later and I am pretty much in the same place. I found her – that’s about it.

(I am still going to hug that friend this coming weekend when I see her. )

Uncertain on Meaning Friends

Earlier today, one of those reunion “friends” took it up themselves to send me a link to my daughters’ fathers’ Facebook page. The message said “did you know he was on Facebook?”.

Ugh. Jesus H. No. Why would I?

Why was friend looking (birthfather did not go to my high school and is not going to our reunion) and why did friend feel it necessary to share with me?

I responded and stated “No, I did not know”. I had nothing more to say. To me it felt vaguely like rubbing a dog’s nose in their own accident. It felt callous and mean.

But perhaps I am overly sensitive.

(Yes, I looked at his profile. ‘Nuff said.)

 

 

 

 

Helping a Future Dad

Baby things wanted – girl.

My nephew (age 20 and single) is expecting his first child with his ex girlfriend. Baby is due (if I am remembering correctly) in the July time frame.

These kids do not have much and as we know parenting is hard and expensive at ANY age. I am looking to gather clothing, toys, infant items, coupons for them (in addition to those new I am purchasing). If you or a neighbor have anything old you may be wiling to part with in coming months, let me know. I will gladly pay shipping and/or pick up if you are local. If you know of any online, local (Hartford CT area) support groups for single dads, I welcome as well.

As is often the case with my family and others, he is being looked down upon for getting his girlfriend pregnant outside of marriage, thought to be a loser, etc. despite stepping up and helping to parent Ella Jewel (her future name) with his ex. I believe strongly people live up to expectations and that if we expect him to fail (just because he has in the past) and be a loser he will. He, just like the mother, needs support and encouragement, just like any parent of any age and marital status. Hoping to do what I can for him and his little girl.

Leave a comment or message me at bluestokking at gmail dot com with details.

Natural, Birth, & First

First Mother Forum had a touching post about natural fathers and their effect, absence, inclusion, exclusion and other topics surrounding their involvement in the surrender of their children to adoption. The stories shared were very touching. Several made my heart ache as I could relate strongly to them. As I have alluded to here over the years, I was deeply in love with my daughters’ father for more than half my life. Before my pregnancy, during, after surrender, later in life, through my first marriage to another man, a part of my heart was saved just for her father. I actually made a pact with him the night he left my bed before his wedding to another woman that he would come back to me, that we would be together in our futures.  It is all silly romantic notions now, a tad bit embarrassing to look back on, but oh, how he consumed my soul. There was something electric between us physically and emotionally. Our story is long and complicated and I have been hesitant to date to share much publicly. I am still hesitant.  However, I will share that my relationship with him was another example of giving up the dream.

Much like I did with my daughter, I created an image of him that I desperately wanted to be true. I put a mask on him and when I looked at him I saw him as the mask not who he really was.  I kept hoping and dreaming someday the vision I had of him would come true and he would be the man I thought he was and should be versus accepting who he was and was not. It sincerely still hurts. I still think about that dream guy I fabricated in my mind. The guy that would stand up for me, for our daughter, for us, affectionately named Wolf and Tiger Eyes by my younger sister. He would buy and restore a 69 convertible Mustang for me and we would drive across country for months on end with no destination in mind. We would stop in grassy meadows and he would work on the car and I would write.  Being an incredible photographer and illustrator, he would capture our trip visually.   Oh, gosh, the dreams I had for over twenty-five years. Flights of fancy of a deeply passionate young girl who wanted nothing than to wear ripped up jeans, tee shirts a little too tight across her bust (he liked them that way), cool Native American jewelry, hold her baby in one arm and the hand of the man she loved in the other.

As my daughter did, natural father told me clearly, over and over again, that he did not love me the way I wanted him to.  Despite writing me deep love letters (oh, how he could write, I still have all his notes and cards and letters), dedicating songs to me, buying me gifts and leaving them in special places to be found by accident, when push came to shove he told me directly and indirectly it was never going to happen. As I did with my daughter, I kept going back for more, despite the obvious pain and disappointment, I kept trying.  I even held hope for reuniting with him during my search for our daughter. I so clearly remember breaking down in the cab of his truck, after she was found, crying out “I brought her back. I found her. I gave her away but I brought her back.” A twisted sentiment in many ways, we both signed her away to strangers yet I felt fully responsible for the act and hoped in some way that finding her would make him want me again. Here was another chance for him to be the man I wanted him to be.  Sad really… and oh, so, codependent.

Codependent, I believed it was I, not him, to blame for the state of our relationship. In my dream world, he was perfect. The state of our relationship was my fault. If I tried harder, softer, less frequently, more frequently, this way, that way, anyway, he would change his mind.  The more he pushed me away, the harder I tried.  I was sure I could change his mind.  He never did.  The last time he contacted me, about five years ago, I refused to meet with him or talk with him.  I could not face him telling me, again, that he was going to go away and he wanted me to do the same. I had met my future husband and I could not allow natural father to drag me into places – good or bad – I was not sure I could claw my way out of – again.  I had to move forward with a man who did love me.

But enough about me and the silly girl I was. Go read the post and the touching comments over at First Mother forum.