Imagine my surprise when after determining I have no idea who she is, I see a name I do know in the “People You May Know” box on the top right.

The person LinkedIn thinks I may know? 

My case worker from Easter House. You know, the one that has ignored my requests for information, for 26 years? The one who refused to give me any information when I was being stalked by a person claiming to be my daughter (but wasn’t). The one who strangers felt the need to counsel me on dealing with? Yeah. Her.

Not sure it is the exact person so I  clicked on her profile and saw where she is allegedly working now. The history of the organization states it was founded as an ” “in-between” home for trouble girls where they would be guided into a happy and purposeful life”. That sounds like her as the last time we spoke she was working in Florida for an alternative high school for teen moms.

I did write her, again at the email on Linkedin. It might not be her. But hey, the more you throw at the wall the more likely something is to stick, right?

I doubt she will answer me if it is her. If it is not her, the person will probably tell me so.

I still crave answers, explanation, and most importantly, I want my letters. She said I wrote her letters following surrender and she kept them.  She said they made her sad but she kept them. Well, I want them. At least copies of them. They feel important to me. I need to see them.

Part of me jumps up and down and want to scream .

Lets go! Now! Wahoo! My city! The place where my child was born! Hooray for Illinois and Chicago.  When is the next flight out?

Then I feel a sick feeling in my stomach and something says “Whoaaaa. Hold on there.” Chicago? With a bunch of adoption people? Talking adoption in the location that you surrendered your first-born, only daughter, to strangers? That stanking rotting nest hole for the Kurtz adoption agency? Have you really thought about what that will mean and feel like?

Well, uh, yeah, I guess. Sort of. Maybe? But hey! That week is also my first wedding anniversary. I got married in Chicago a year ago. How cool would it be to celebrate in the city we got married!!! Lets go.

Uh, okay, so are you celebrating your anniversary, mourning/grieving/ the child you surrendered, or protesting?

Uh. All? None? One.

And what about those people who will be there that you don’t like or they don’t like you?

Oh, please, I don’t need to like people to support a cause. Nor do they have to like me.

Will you take your hubby? If you are framing this as a part anniversary celebration, what is he to do while you are standing around protesting (or crying in a corner?)

Oh, but he is wonderful, he would stand around, protest, get me a tissue.

Yeah, but does he want to celebrate anniversary that way? Is he giving in to you? How much of your life and his has to be consumed by your adoption trauma and related activities?

But, but, I have to. It is MY state, my daughters birthplace, my well, thang. I have to show my support. My peeps are there.

Okay, what if you have surgery just before then? How will that work out? Will you be recovered enough to travel?

At this point, I tell that inner voice to shut up and I procrastinate about making hotel and flight plans and confirming attendance.

The joys of being a Gemini.

It has been a challenging weekend.

As I wrote in this post in 2009, Whitney’s song The Greatest Love of All played in my hospital room the last time I saw and held my first born child. The song was a favorite of mine in 1985 and it struck me, deeply, when I held my daughter. The lyrics about children being our future seemed prophetic to me and it hit the chord inside me that I would not be part of her future, could not give her the future she deserved (according to society’s standards). Whitney asked us in her song to show the children all the beauty they possessed inside. I felt I couldn’t do that, then, but adoption could. Staying with me would show her how bad and awful life could be where as the miracle of adoption would not only show her beauty but give her more.

Whitney goes on to say she found the greatest love of all inside of herself. I did too. I found my child, my motherhood, inside of me. And I gave it away to strangers. It has been a challenging road back from that experience, from that loss. Contrary to what Ms. Houston suggests, they did take away my dignity and I allowed it.

Years later, that special place that I had been dreaming of, reunion, did lead me to a lonely place.  Whitney suggests in those times we should find our strength in love.  I keep trying.

Here is the video.  Below it I have pasted the links to other posts that talk about this song and it effect on me.

RIP Whitney Houston.

Related posts:

Greatest Pain of All – My eleven year old son, soon to graduate fifth grade and go onto middle school, has been singing a Whitney Houston song for days. Read more.

Painful Daze – At approximately 2:30 yesterday afternoon I was thrown under the bus by a coworker and promptly set on fire. I was unaware that I was on fire until my boss called me into her office to let me know that said coworker had not only thrown me under the bus but she had done a jig, pounded on her chest, and howled at the moon before she threw the match that lit me on fire. Read more.

Freewriting – The song, low in volume, crackled out of the speaker on my hospital bed.  How appropriate I thought. It makes perfect sense to me that as I hold my child in my shaky arms for the last time for the rest of her life, I hear “The Greatest Love of All” floating in the air behind me. Is this some sort of sick joke being acted out by the Gods? Read more.