Hiatus

i'm taking a time out. things in my daily life have become extremely hectic - in a good way. (do i owe you an email? i know...i know...) when i've got something to say, i'll be back. thanks to everyone for tuning in.

sucker

i once worked with a man whose favorite saying was "fool me once, shame on you. fool me twice, shame on me". the latter part of that statement is me all over.

despite my usually surly demeanor, i really do believe the best about people in general. second chances? yup. third? fourth? fifth? you betcha. even when it's at my own expense. and it usually is. i'm terrible at cutting people off, ending relationships, when i've legitimately been wronged enough times to warrant such action. because what if they change? what if there's a chance of reconciliation?

in recent reference to a situation like this, my husband remarked "a tiger doesn't change it's stripes". we discussed it for awhile, and he laughed and said "you are amazing. you'll take what you can get and hope for more, hope for "better". and how often does it work in your favor? when do you just say "enough already"? " the answer to that, clearly, is rarely. the outcome is generally what i call Doormat. somewhere along the way, i got the notion that my feelings, my ideas, were not nearly as necessary as yours. that i wasn't worth the effort, from my perspective or yours.

with the seemingly closed adoption (see? i can't call it closed completely, even though i haven't gotten an update in a few years - that's me, still holding out hope) i have to come to terms with the fact that i'm obviously not worth the time or trouble; that i'm a bother, a chore. and jeez, doesn't THAT feel good?

i recognize these behaviors & attitudes. if i was a trifle surly before, i'm downright cynical now - wary of kindness (because there must be a flipside), of reaching out, of initiating anything. and periodically i respond positively, but those occasions are becoming few & far between.

i want the figurative cash up front. i want the reassurance, the guarantee. and don't hit me with the platitude of "there are no guarantees in life". i'm quite aware, thanks.

bruises

if you follow my other blog, you know that i had another miscarriage this week.  because i was a little further along this time, it has been a little more heartbreaking and a lot more painful on all levels.  two trips to the ER in between my regular visit to the OB brought a lot of repeat storytelling.  

"how many pregnancies?"

"how many live births?"

"oh, your son is 11? wow, that's quite a stretch in between, isn't it?"

people don't naturally assume that you choose adoption for your firstborn, and i didn't correct the assumptions that i was parenting.  there's no point in that.  or is there?

at one point, during my second ER visit, after they shot me full of Dilaud!d in preparation for Pitoc!n, my mercurial nurse leaned over to me and murmured that when i got home, i should try to "keep it together" for the sake of my son.  Chris was out of the room, taking a breather for a moment, and when she left i tried to process through my narcotic haze what she had said.

can i fault her? not really.  what irritated me more was her almost saccharine demeanor when Chris returned, telling me that "she had been there" and that she "knew what i was going through" as she hooked up the Pitoc!n drip.  i don't know about you, fellow miscarriage survivors, but hearing that while you're literally in the midst of things isn't so helpful. at least not to me.

would my care have been different if i had told them from the start that my son was adopted at birth?  probably not.  but i've been through this enough, telling health care providers over the years, to dread that look.  being on the receiving end of that look is one of the lowest emotional lows for me.

and like the kindly nurse-vampire who extracted vial after vial of blood at the first ER visit told me, we can always "try again real soon. or adopt."

marching on

i discovered a few weeks ago that Trusted Ally has left the agency.  my immediate reaction was not something of which i am proud to admit: i cried.  okay, let me 'fess up: i sobbed for an entire afternoon.  you may think this is overreacting on my part, and i'm okay with that.

Trusted Ally was more than just my caseworker - she was my friend.  or, let me clarify, she became my friend.  when the immediate adoption stuff settled, we'd meet often.  sometimes at the agency, talking about The Big Stuff, sometimes we'd go out to dinner and not talk about adoption at all.  we'd visit each other's houses, gossip, bitch about things, order pizza.  typical girlfriend stuff.  she even filled a small but vital role in my first wedding.  only a year or two older than me, we had several things in common.  

when i moved from PA 7 years ago, our communication slowed, given the distance and the fact that our lives became really busy in separate directions.  but we checked in with each other a few times a year and from my perspective, it was just like i'd seen her last week.

she used her home email for a few work things, so i shot off a typical email for this time of year.  a few hours later, i received a short response stating that she was no longer with the agency, and hadn't been for awhile.  she'd moved on, started a family, all of that good stuff.

i felt like my safety net had snapped.  

of course i didn't expect her to stay at the agency forever.  of course i knew she'd move on.  i knew it had been coming for a few years now.  but having that knowledge didn't soften the blow.

if she'd just been some random caseworker, some adoption counselor who was only dealing with me for the few months we spent together "professionally", i wouldn't feel this way.  i highly doubt that a generic caseworker would have let me know that H had another child, so that i wouldn't find out from another source at an inopportune time.  i always knew that i could call her to talk, whether it was adoption related or not.  i always felt like she cared about me, and never thought of me as "a Caucasian healthy woman who produced a Caucasian healthy infant".

the loss in this, aside from having someone with an "ear to the ground", is that there is no longer anyone in my life who was there, who knew how it was for me, and what i went through. she knew the stories, had lived them with me.

maybe my expectation were off kilter.  maybe i just had it all wrong. the end result, however, is that yes, i am ultimately alone in this.  safety nets don't last forever.  and i suppose its time for me to don my Big Girl Pants on forge ahead.

i'm just thankful that i didn't actually call the agency expecting to reach her.

02.25.09

people ask me (online & in daily life) why i don't just contact The Kiddo's parents directly and ask them why i haven't gotten an update in so long. my answer to that, no matter who is asking, is generally the same: it's complicated.

it doesn't matter that i have their phone number or an email address. i almost wish i didn't. we don't have a "call & chat" type of relationship. truthfully, i can't imagine a reason why i would call them, unless they would have called me first & i was unable to get to the phone.

i feel as if i walk a very slippery slope. going through the agency for communication at this point seems passive-aggressive. i mean, we're all adults here, and have been "in this" for over a decade. the last time i asked for something "extra", perhaps 2 years ago, the request went unanswered. and with no update the following year... well, that was the last time i'll ask for a picture of the Kiddo participating in Underwater Basket Weaving. or anything else, for that matter.

"well what do you have to lose, if they've stopped sending updates?" is normally the next query.

pieces of my self, pieces of my pride. the days of being held to the whim & fancy are over. there is enough loss for everyone in this; why keep stretching it like taffy? who wins in that scenario? how much rejection/brushing off/disregard does a person need to tolerate before it sinks in that "they're just not into you"? hell, it took me a few years, even with the gentle comments made by people very close to me.

and then comes the inevitable "but what about The Kiddo?"

what about The Kiddo? he's 11. 2 years have passed since our last visit. if & when he wants communication with me, i'm ready, willing & able. and that's really all i can offer. its not as if i've lost hope, but my perceptions & opinions have shifted.

"it's complicated" is truly an understatement.

(Mc)Fearless

and the hits just keep on coming.  maybe this is all just an temporary case of Inflated Ego, i couldn't tell you at this point.

since i've shaken loose much of the baggage, i've been able to focus more clearly on the tasks in my day to day life, especially at work.  i feel renewed, not overburdened & struggling like a pack mule trudging uphill.  i feel free to get on with it.  you know, life.

on The Kiddo's birthday, this past Wednesday, of course i was sad at times.  i cried when i first woke up, remembering. and then i got on with it.  a far cry from the past handful of years when i've been an unholy trainwreck, even in the privacy of my own home.

will i receive an update? that still remains to be seen. 

so, in the meantime,  let's get on with it, shall we?

the day

i've always been partial to the number 11 for a variety of reasons.  it's always been my "lucky number".  Happy Birthday Kiddo.  may "11" bring you laughter & luck.