What does a child deserve?

This is a continuation of thoughts based on a YouTube Comment, the first part: You don't deserve to be a Mother.

This is the part of the comment that is in the spotlight now:
Growing up in extreme poverty is not what a child deserves

I think that first we have a need to define "extreme poverty". I immediately get a mental picture of the Save the Children" commercials: toddlers with distended stomachs, the rickety legs, flies buzz about all too still infants, naked school age children among garbage. To me, that is extreme.

The poverty line in this country.. it's a number. A href="http://www.census.gov/hhes/www/poverty/povdef.html">mathamatical formula determined by the government and social services, helped along by the budget and available money. Like I know, in my county of NY, if you are family and you make over $860 odd something a month, then they do not find you in need of assistance and that is for a family of five.

According to this Poverty threshold chart, and my 2007 income tax, my family of five lives BELOW the poverty level. You wouldn't know by looking at us, though. I always blame that on my middle class, blue collar upbringing that I closely maintain, so all basics are covered and I am a thrifty momma. So you can't really go by the numbers.
But, No, a child does not deserve to grow up in extreme poverty.

Actually no one deserves to live in extreme poverty at all unless you believe some harsh view that anyone different than you deserve bad fortune or something. Do the North Koreans deserve to live under the threat of execution and concentration camps? Did Guatemala deserve to be trashed under civil war and religious oppression? Does the whole freaking continent of Africa deserve to be ripped apart by AIDS and famines and power hungry mercenaries? Of course not.

Now, one could argue that these comparisons are with adults and whole groups of people, and the child is innocent when born. Of course, many a child fits under the "whole groups of people" heading, plus, I am sure many, many , many an adult in these situations is also completely innocent of bringing these plagues of strife upon themselves..they just happened to have the misfortune of being born there... as babies... and growing up there... as children...hmmmm.

Now, while this YouTube commenter might have an idealistic approach to what a child deserves, the wise folks over at the United Nations came up with their own huge list. They call this nice, officially termed and broken down into articles, document The Convention on the Rights of a Child

From article 24 down to around article 40, there is a fairly detailed list of what the UN thinks a child deserve. The basics, that any logical caring person would assume to be there, are there. The right to education, to medical treatment, to pre natal care for the mothers of the child, the right to be unharmed and exploited in any sexual, trafficking or labor fashion, the right to food and nutrition, to play and be social, to special care if disabled, etc.

Now, they pretty much come right and say that children do have the right to not live in extreme poverty, but not in those words. What they do is make the state the secondary responsible party if the parents cannot find the means:

States Parties, in accordance with national conditions and within their means, shall take appropriate measures to assist parents and others responsible for the child to implement this right and shall in case of need provide material assistance and support programmes, particularly with regard to nutrition, clothing and housing.


So wow, if the "states" aka government, did what they were supposed to, then there shouldn't be ANY poverty for kids. Nice concept. It doesn't work in this country, well, because the USA and Somalia are, to date, the only countries that have yet to ratify the Convention on the Rights of a Child. Pretty sad.

Now, the other thing that the folks at the UN believe that a child has a right to.. know their parents. And not adoptive parents, but you know... the people with whom they share DNA with and birth them.

We begin on Article 7,#1:
The child shall be registered immediately after birth and shall have the right from birth to a name, the right to acquire a nationality and. as far as possible, the right to know and be cared for by his or her parents.


Article 8 continues on the vein:
States Parties undertake to respect the right of the child to preserve his or her identity, including nationality, name and family relations as recognized by law without unlawful interference.


And then there is more in Article 9 as well:
States Parties shall ensure that a child shall not be separated from his or her parents against their will, except when competent authorities subject to judicial review determine, in accordance with applicable law and procedures, that such separation is necessary for the best interests of the child. Such determination may be necessary in a particular case such as one involving abuse or neglect of the child by the parents, or one where the parents are living separately and a decision must be made as to the child's place of residence.


Now we do have that nice little "best interest" clause in there, which does seem to get terrible co-opted by many a do-gooder. There are folks, powerful running the government type folks who think that if you aren't married then you child is being harmed. To them, it doesn't matter if you gave birth or "saved" the child from the proverbial baby dumpster, as long as it is a MAN and a WOMAN married who are doing the raising. As if the penis+vigina+ring equation= happy child all the time. I doubt that kids really get too too much out of the whole wedding ring thing.

Yes, a child needs stability. They need to know that they are loved and cared for. They need to have food and a warm home (but hey, let’s be eco conscious as well...it won’t hurt them to wear a sweater and be a bit chilly! they need to learn and grow and run about and play. And honestly, if you are doing these things for yourself, it's not that hard to do them for your child too.

But somewhere along the way, we got the notion in our head that if a kid does not have ballet classes, and a motorized big wheel, if they don't do reading assistance, and go to baseball camp with the pros, if you can't manage Disney once a year, provide them with a cell phone, a new car and Hannah Montana tickets, then you are a crappy parent and your poor kid deserves better.

This very memorable Time Magazine article made me feel like a really good mom when it came out. Basically, it said that all these really spoiled privilege kids who only think about themselves... they turn into really rotton lazy adults who cannot make it later in life.

Suddenly, telling my son that "No, I can't afford that this week" was not my default, but a real lesson in life and budgeting. Making him get a job to pay for his own recreational fun and lunches, was making him be self reliant. And I wonder, don't kids deserve to learn to think for themselves, to try to achieve, to do for themselves, to actually work for something good rather than be supplied with instant gratification? I know for sure that after his dad buying the first IPod (stolen), and then I supplied the second (lost within 2 months), the the third IPod, bought with his own money earned from working in a coffee shop... well, that one still lives a year later. Coincidence or values of appreciation?

I think that there is real value to real life preparation. And I don't know if hugely privilege kids are getting those self sufficient life lessons. It kind of contradicts that good old American value that we do have to work hard to deserve good things? And plus, look at our own history...don't we hold Abe Lincon to a high regard for walking to borrow books? Don't we all have ancestors that scrimped and saved their whole lives, working to the bone, for the American dream? Was it wrong for children to share rooms...or beds even? And if so, how come Ma Ingalls didn't get the bad parent guilt?

It's just awful weird when we expect all these adults to know how to work hard to be deserving, but we are not teaching these skills to our kids.
And then, shall we look at the threat of "extreme poverty' for children relinquished to domestic adoption?

Yes, often adoption is pressured when a unplanned pregnancy reaches crisis type mode and the mom does not have the resources lined up to either her own mental listings, or often, based on what society has pushed on her, or an agency has, or a family member, etc. The great majority of the time, a relinquishing mother surrenders to be able to complete what she feels necessary in life...as part of having it all.. so school, a better job, a better relationship, and a better place to live... they are all on her own personal agencda. Basically, she's not loser and has no plans to be a loser for her whole life. She does however, become to believe that parenting a child at this point in her life will condemn her to the loser status forever.

While there really isn't a typical "birth" mother, historically they are middle class, with higher education, and already parenting a child. It kinds of throws the threat of extreme poverty out the window.

If our original commenter, or any other of the legions who hold these typical uneducated stereotypes to heart, would bother listening to the voices of adopted persons, then they would see that often, while not all the time, what is lost by an adoptee in terms of trust, identity, ancestry, self awareness, confidence, etc. is considered a greater loss then the material possessions assumed "required" for positive financially affluent parenting.

What it comes down to, and what I have been saying for all too long, the relinquishment and adoptions of many of the children from our countries domestic adoption machine, is not saving our children form anything; not from extreme poverty, not from abuse, not from a miserable life….all it does is separate them from their mothers and fathers and sister and brothers and grandparents and cousins and aunts and uncles, often forever.

And that’s not often a good thing, nor is it what child really deserves.

Re-knitting Relationships: growth in adoption reuinons - continued

Since I began the whole adoption is knitting analogy, I figure it's best to continue that: ____________________________________ My adopted son and his flute, just hanging out: Thank goodness, the night before, a bunch of us slammed out the kitchen and put all the food stuffs away from the party. Even though it was 2am, I knew that I would not want to face the hell that was my kithcen first thing in the am. The kitchen floor was horrible enough from people going back and forth with what little rain threatened us. After digging my way to the coffee maker, I got the first pot going just in time for Colleen to arise from the dead. After getting all neurotic when he tried to walk out the door only a bit earlier, I was hesitant to go on the front porch, but... it was natural for me to do that with Col, and plus, the back yard was still in a very scary state. there would be no relaxing and waking up with kazillions of empty bottles strewn all over the place. Max is so damn cute. He had his flute with him and was out on my porch, just chilling. The responsible mommy part of me had to make a point of telling him that .. despite him coming down now for two super excellent parties in a row... we really don't make a habit of it. Which, really, is true. I don't pull off a wedding every day, and I don't plan on turning 40 again anytime soon. Even with everyone already asking when the next bash will be.. it was a great time...that's not happening! And while, of course, I have that desire for him to "like" me, and think I am cool, I also don't want him to get the impression that we always party like it's 1999. As if he did. I think he just laughed at me. _________ Allot of the day was just spent relaxing. No one was sporting a hangover, but we had gone to bed really late. Plus the mess was pretty overwhelming, so there was some avoidance there as well. At one point, we all were in the back yard and tackled the bottle returns verses plain old trash, re-stacking the borrowed chairs, folding the tables, bringing in glass wear, etc. Max joined in with the rest of us. Other than that, except when I noticed that pretty much all of us were picking on food, but him.. I had to pull a momma and tell him to eat something! The joke was on me, though, when he denied hunger and claimed that " sometimes eating is not his thing". Yup, I was giving my son the same hard time that my husband always gives me. Why can't people get that just coffee in the am is sufficient? Scarlett was all about hanging out which frequently means you have a loud girl yelling about all manners of little girl fluff right in your face. It's not the greatest when you are not with the full take of sleep. She also is blessed with very bony butt, so miss-can't-stand-still on a lap can sometimes be painful as well. Eventually, she wore out her welcome with me and made her way back to Max. Reunited siblings equals heaven: Just seeing them together like that, it was very hard not to get all weepy and emotional. I mean, I can still just stare at Max all the day and have this big dumb smile on my face. Here is my only daughter, totally wrapped up in the arms of her biggest brother, sitting on his lap. She was happy, but I have to say, Max had the biggest, most pleased, smile on his face the whole time she was there.. and neither of them moved for quite a while...like over a half hour while. Matt had the newer version of my now broken digital camera and took some absolutely great shots of them together. I'll add them when he sends them to me. ______ The music gene is genetic: I have said that for years, but it is true, Unfortunately it is only attached to the Y chronoson, so only the boys have it. Garin returned from his night off and the three boys: Matt, Max and Garin all started talking shop. There was a trip down to the basement where Garin's band holds practices and his new drum kit which he showed off along with his killer skills on the double bass petal. As much as I really could just follow Max around all day like a puppy dog, I also know that it is just as important for them to all form their own relationships. After all my brother is 28, max is almost 21 an garin is almost 17..so uncle, brother, brother all very interested in music.. they need their own time. Funny, at one point, after aGarin had gone to work, the three of us were talking about music school as my brother went to Berkly in Boston and Max's drummer goes there now. Matt was saying that really, at of all the music school, Berkely is still the only "mordern" opne that is not a conservatory Julliard classical place. When I exclained: "Don't tell me that! You mean I'll have to send another one of you to Boston?" They both laughed. There was also a point where I had to inform them all that I had changed every one of their diapers: Matt, Max, Garin, Scarlett and Tristan..and that yes, they have all peed on me too at some point. You got to make those family connections no matter how unpleasant! Max had also brought a great cow horn..meaning a horn made out of a horn of a steer. The tone of it was phenomenal and he swapped spit with Matt, Scarlett and Tristan..showing the little ones how to transfer the verbal "fart" sound to the mouth piece. Being 12 years older than my brother, our visits always have allot of time when he is pulling facts and confirming our childhood stuff via my memory. It was pretty cool to be able to share that with Max as it was a very organic way for me to talk about "our family" without being at all preachy like. Being that we had the slides out the night before, comparisons to myself and my mother were easy.. quite a few guests thought that I was her and likewise, Scarlett to myself.. as they thought she was me. Unfortunately, seeing pictures of myself at the same age she is confirmed my sad suspicion that she will need braces. Poor kid has my teeth and the overbite of a deranged rabbit. Rye and I better start saving now. There was a whole tooth conversation that resulted in us all blaming our huge vampire incisors on Grandpa and then we went to the nose, once again, cheerful, that no one had the big Santangelo honker. As Matt said, that gene died out with this generation. Max did not get the dainty Irish Corrigan nose, but I am able to say that it is his father's. He didn't bring up him up again, though Matt ( the man has no filter at all) broke into huge bouts of laughter about his name. I suppose it is a rather funny name, but I wouldn't laugh in Max's face about it. I do have to push the whole "met you father issue more" because I do believe it is good for them both, yet it was not the time. The bad thing about these parties and such is that we get no "alone" time, really. Rye had bought a horseshoe set for the party and Scarlett was into playing. We really had put off the kitchen long enough by this time, and Rye and I went into wash some more. I kept grabbing peeks, which turned into long stares, of my son and daughter playing together. Again, it hurts to give up this time for myself, but yet, it is so amazing to watch them work through it on their own. I know that I would not be so amazed if they had just grown up together, but that's not our lot in life..so these moments, they are so precious. Getting to adoption nitty gritty: I felt the time slipping by. I, of course, had to give him a hard time about never checking his emails especially now that the GF is done and I have lost the 'secretary' that would bug him for me. At least with her about, I would know that he knew I was trying to get hold of him. I know it's not me, but that is just how he is. I was able to ask about the last email, we talked about how in demand an article writing together would be. He was pretty amazed so it seems that he was such an "unknown", but as I explained..that he is male, that he is young, that he was found, that neither one of us is freaking out and can communicate.. what he says has great value to many. I think he really liked that idea and I said that I would start pitching it....as long as he checked his dern email! Adoptee and Mother who relinquished are joined by an adoptive dad: The other thing, from the email, that I wanted to get out there was the thought of the protest. It was actually pretty cool as by time I got to it, neighbors had popped by, so we were all hanging out. When I got to "protest", Max chimed in that he "loved a protest", which got Kevin and Charles interested in what we were saying. I quickly explained the issue of surrendered birth certificates being sealed and how it was simply a violation of Max's civil rights. Then it got really interesting as we found out that Charles young son was via adoption! I hadn't known as they are pretty new to the neighborhood and my guess is that Charles didn't know our deal either..so suddenly we had a relinquishing mom, and adult adoptee and a new adoptive father who had allot of questions! It was pretty amazing, as I could see this change come over Max. His opinion was needed, his words were valued..and we had this really great constructive conversation about Charles' son. It was an in family adoption and there is quite allot of contact within the whole family. Charles was really worried about when to tell his boy and how as he is under 2..fighting an urge to just pick and leave the whole mess, not out of bad fear, but wanting to protect his son from possible pain and confusion. Max totally explained that it was much better knowing from day one. Both he and his adopted brother had grown up knowing that they were adopted and we both agreed that it was a good thing. As Charles went though some of his fears.. the "cousins" are really sisters, aunts are mothers, etc since it was his wives sitter's baby.. we reassured him both together and separately that it needed to come from him and the sooner the better. That the truth was what it was.. that for his son. cousins were really sisters and that neither relationship had to be nullified to make one real. AS Max said "My parents are my parents and they always will be, but my mom is my mom too and that is the way it is". It was just so neat that it happened the way it did and Rye joined in only to reassure Charles that if he had questions, then we were THE ones to ask. You could see the worry fade in Charles..and I like to think that things will be easier for his son to deal with just based on the quick adoption prime we provided.Plus I defiantly think that Max enjoyed it..and that came right on the heels of me explaining how needed his voice was. The End of Visit Time: And then, it stared gettign dark. There was little more time to compare Max and my twin toes to Tristan who also has the same feet. Both kids needed to wash the dirt off themselves as Max and matt gather their things togther. We good naturally chastized them for making the same exact drive separatly and they discussed getting together back in Mass especially since Matt's new condo is right by Max's friends' school. I told them they should both plan better for the next party, but, no again, we don't make a habit of these wild shindigs! The 24 hours of blissful time with my son was over..and with hugs all around, we saw them off. I had two remaining children to put tobed, the reassurance that my borther and son would make the drive back in entourage, and bless my husband, he had two lovely steaks all covered in a dry rub and ready to grill. AS we sat in the now still back yard, even with the destructive force of adoption in my life, listening to the waterfall, warmed by the fire and with memories of max's smile in my mind, I was very content.

Re-knitting Relationships: growth in adoption reunions

I have made the comparison between adoption and knitting before. The analogy was used heavily in Tapastry, likening all our individual stories into separate threads that we must weave together and then view, from afar, in order to see the truth about adoption as a whole. This past weekend, I was struck by the analogy again. When you are knitting something, and you leave off for a while, when you start back up again, you can't just pick up where you left off. Either you forgot where you were, or you need to reread the instructions. You have to pick up the stitches where you left off. If you want to add something, then you have to manually being in that new addition and work its way into the pattern. It takes longer, it's harder and often...just the difference in time...you can see the place where the break happened no matter how you try. The subtle differences in the way one's hands move, or the strength of the fingers, will break the continuity of the pattern. If you think about a family in the same way as a pattern, then this holds true for adoption too. ___________________________________________________ Yes! My surrendered son came to my 40th birthday party! It turns out that there are immediate, good reasons to not only turn 40, but to have a big bash as well. It was one of the reasons that I gave into the idea of this party, though while I hoped, I was not too sure if he would make it. Earlier in the week, I had strong suspicions, confirmed by a certain 7 year old child who cannot keep a secret but whose name is withheld for her own protection. She was not supposed to leak it, but when being told that “Someone special is coming to your party”, I had to break it out of her. Of course, my heart raced that it would be Max, but God forbid it was someone else. Not only would I have been sad in the midst of a celebration, but my facial reaction upon seeing a non-Max guest would have been very rude to whoever the real special guest was. When Rye tried to be all slick and pretended to be upset that he “forgot to call Max”, then I knew he had, indeed, not forgotten. He tried to pull the same crap with my chocolate and peanut butter birthday cake. I said fine, no biggie, just pick up an ice cream cake from Hannaford, until Eileen called the day of and started the conversation by telling me that she had just finished up my cake. My husband is pretty bad at keeping secrets. Must be where the 7 year old gets it from. In any case, I went into the celebration weekend with a huge list of things to do and a quiet anticipation of see my son again. The party itself was excellent. We opted for having it at the house which gave me the added bonus of pressure for us all to massively clean up and also finish so many of the backyard projects early. I have to say that now my back yard has a beautiful Zen like character to it with the newly installed Koi pond and natural waterfall. I felt proud to invite over guests. About half of the invited folks showed up at different times throughout the night which was a good thing! As it was the final count of people who came was close to 80 and even with the new patio, the borrowed tables and chairs ( thanks to great neighbors Bob and Kim), more chairs from Colleen and Claude, and great food brought by many, there was no way that we could have pulled off 150 folks at our house. So as guests arrived, I am suffering form that spinning momma head syndrome of racing eyes, knowing my child can be here any second, unable to ask as I am faking my secret, and waiting, looking, watching for him with ever increasing nerves. All while greeting guest, getting serving utensils, opening presents, etc., but all while having a great time. The pomegranate martini pre cocktail cocktails didn’t hurt either. And then, it started getting later. Rye broke out the 1969 slide show of my baby self naked in the tub and every one I knew got a good look at my girly parts. We finished off the vodka for the martinis and moved onto the first of at least 8 pitchers of mohitos. The sun went down, the candles and the bonfire were lit and before I knew it, here came the cake, overloaded with candles. Still no Max. It was sometime after that, when finally I sat and actually ate something, feeling like he wasn’t coming after all, that a shot of Jameson sounded about right especially since that bottle too was almost gone, I hadn’t had any, and either had Moses who had brought me the dern gift. ( Thanks Moses!). I was still recovering from the liquid fire, when Kevin came in and said “Claudia, there is someone named Max for you at the gate”. Now my brother, who was there, is named Matt. And we do have a few other friends named Matt as well, so I was wise to verify with Kevin. Shot glass in hand, yelling over the cranking tunes, I check: “Max did you say?” “Yeah, Max... he’s at the gate” I don’t think I heard the end of the sentence as I was out the door. _____________________________ When you ad in adoption separation, not hearing from your child for four months is not a big deal at all. By time this whole birthday nonsense started, I was jonesing for some direct communication. He had called me for Christmas which was lovely. But after that, my last email to him discussing a proposal to write something together adoption related, which he had brought up, and feeling out for possible interest regarding the upcoming Adoptee Rights protest, went unanswered. I, being the best non freaking out mother who relinquished, tried to take it with a grain of salt. Months of salt intake makes you kind of in a pickle after a while. One of the first things he mentioned was recent personal bad news, in his words, a curse on his band members and himself. I was very upset to learn that one of his best friend’s dad had died suddenly. Through the glories of MySpace, I felt like I knew Taz even though I had never had the guts enough to “friend” him. But, a music loving, former freaky kid now parent like myself, I liked the idea that Max had this close connection with a cool dad who I related to on a parent level. Very sad to hear that he had passed. The other bit of yuckyness was that the GF was no more. I got the sense that he was probably down playing it a bit, but was somewhat OK, though not happy with the outcome. I have to give him credit.. it sounded like he was dumped in a drama like way and had had not a bad thing to say about her. Very gracious and caring, understanding even. I did really like her and they were a good couple, but from what I gathered, I get it too. Plus really, they are young, so, it was bound not to last forever. Poor boy, I forgot to warn him of our tendency to be serial monogamists, so he might was well get used to heartache. Very rarely will we be the dumper, usually the dumpee, unless things really suck. While it is hard to hear about tough life lesson’s that your child goes through without you, it also then, makes sense, that he didn’t answer emails and have the energy to deal. But even with that, it was very smooth. While the party raged on around us, in some ways we were in our own world. My brother pretty much hung with us exclusively as well..and the three of us were thick like thieves. Max had arrived literally two minutes after I had given Garin permission to leave the party and I was upset that they missed each other. I had been trying to get Garin to stay until Max got there without letting on that I thought he would be there. Max reported that he saw Garin just as he was on his way out. (Momma note: grrr. stupid teenagers... choosing to hang out with friends over long lost older brothers). The younger ones were hunkered down in my bed watching TV, so I had to pull Max in quick before sleep overtook their tired selves. Scarlett pretty much propelled herself down the stairs and threw herself at him. Even Tristan, who had been more interested in the whole understanding adoption concepts and getting that he had another brother, even gave a hug without being too silly. _________________________________________________________ There is something very natural about tucking your child into bed, adopted or not: Granted he is almost 21, and it wasn’t a tuck, but as I outlasted Rye as the non-exhausted host, so in the wee hours of the morning, sitting by the still warming fire pit, I was trying to do a body count and figure out what guests were in which bed. We had planned ahead and done massive room cleaning/sheet washing. All the cousins were in Tristan’s room, leaving Scarlett’s room as a girly guest area for Eileen. Garin happily got a reprieve from his grounding to stay at a friend’s, so we could have access to the other queen sized bed in the house. Then the couch could be pulled out and Claude and Col had brought their futon as well. That’s all we needed. After the wedding in August, I had felt bad as I had given out and whoever was staying had to fend for themselves. No one complained, but momma guilt hit me when I woke to find poor Max and Caitlyn on “not bed” couches. With that in mind, even though I know this boy does not judge me on my bed making skills, I made sure to pull out the sofa bed, furnish him with a real blanket, a real pillow and point out where the TV clicker was. I couldn’t help but note that he turn himself over on his side the same way I do to fall asleep. _____________________________________________________________ Some typical “bio mother needs reassurance” crap: In August, I woke up at 5:30 am and could not fall back asleep. It was just so exciting, so new to finally...almost 20 years later, be in the same house with my lost and found child. Being that I wasn’t in bed until almost 4, I was really worried that I would wake again and experience the same thing and I really needed to get some sleep in. Thankfully, either exhaustion of some normality crept in and I did sleep. Still, when your kid is almost 21 and you can measure the number of hours spent in your child’s presence by hours and it still adds up to less than a week of both of your lives, you don’t want to waste any precious visit time by sleeping. Who would have thought that I would be happy that the little ones get up eerily and make noise. Yes, I was the first adult up and I cheerfully crept about and put on the beloved coffee. I can’t say I was unhappy when Max arose soon afterwards. Not rushing him, but because I was still on “my house is clean” mode, we put the sofa bed back to into a couch anticipating the three beasts’ need to watch TV. He was puttering about, organizing his stuff, and he put on his shoes. We were standing by the front door and something told me that he was going to go out it. He asked me something that I now forget, but I know that my face had a look of panic on it. I felt my mind racing, my eyes darting about. My brain was trying to come up with some “cool-correct—non-possessive way of asking if he was actually leaving so soon! But my mouth could not get together with the brain to make something clear to communicate. Max looked at me and said quite calmly, “Don’t worry, I’m not leaving. I’m just going on the porch to feel the morning air.” Embarrassed almost by not only the fear that came upon me so fast, but by my inability to talk through it and communicate, I finally was able to catch myself, “Wow you saw that panic rise in my so quickly?” “Yeah, I’m good like that” He’s right, he is. I hate that he saw that in me. I hate that I needed that reassurance. ***** And this, is now, long enough. I’ll have to get into more Sunday happenings, later.

You don't deserve to be a mother...


Adoption is not bad! Just because you can get pregnant does not mean you deserve to be mother. I do not think that issues such as being unmarried should play a role in your choice though. But i do believe that at times adoption can be the best solution for a child. Growing up in extreme poverty is not what a child deserves.Also they need to reform who gets welfare, I am tired of paying for people who just have kids. Many people see this as a free ride ( not EVERYONE of course)

This is a comment that someone found the need to make after seeing my video Lost and Found.

One adoption story, MY adoption story..not generalizations, no posteurization..just me and Max...condensed into 4 minutes. and to that, I get a heaping spoonful of ignorant stereotyping. Sometimes it is too easy to fool ones self into thinking that things are changing. I mean, they are.. more and more people "get it", but then you get trout smacked with a huge dose of dumb and I realize that we still have so very far to go.

I wonder what makes a person "deserve" to be mother? What makes a person "worthy" of assistance?

I can't but help to look at the way our society looks at things in general. We value money and things. Not only do we value them, but we look up to the people who have the most money and things. And there seems to be this common unspoken understanding that these people who have, well, they got to where they are, they things that they have, because they worked hard for them..so they deserve them.

Maybe it's part of the whole American mythology? That streets are paved with gold, that it is the land of plenty and that if you work hard, in America, you can be anything you want. You can have anything you want..you just have to work hard to get it.

Of course, someone like Paris Hilton throws that whole thought process out the window, but I diverse.

If working hard is the key to success, then it stands to reason that one must assume that the people who have not are just not working as hard as the rest. Lazy fuckers..they deserve what they get. Right? The poor? They must choose to be poor. After all we all know a good story of someone who grew up in the worst of the some project and kept their noes clean and broke the cycle..proving that it can be done. Their success and happiness is deserved..and the rest of the folks left behind.. must be more lazy fuckers. It's America.. you reap what you sow.

If it only worked that way for real...we wouldn't have Ms. Hilton thrown in our face every way we glanced and their would be a whole bunch of Mexican restaurant workers riding around in BMW's and Italian loafers going to Hollywood parties.

Now, motherhood...yes, it is work to be pregnant. It might not seem to be work to get pregnant, but ask any woman in the midst of morning sickness or fighting pregnancy fatigue while running after a two year old and taking care of a house..or ask the next ready to pop waddler you see in the supermarket if making a new person is work and she will tell you yes.. if she doesn't throw her shoe at your first. But, really, most of the true work of mothering comes after the baby is born.

So we really can't apply the "work hard = deserved happiness" formula to becoming a mother... because let's face it: babies come from SEX and SEX is usually just for fun. So somehow, the fun part negates the act of becoming pregnant unless one is planning to become pregnant ( and then, I hear, it's more like work..I never had to deal with that issue at all being hyper fertile).

So let's look at this statement again:
Just because you can get pregnant does not mean you deserve to be mother.

I can counter with the "Just because you can become pregnant means that you most likely WILL BE a mother", but that's almost too simplistic. So again, we are stuck on the "deserve".

What makes a person deserve to be a mother? If it's not enough for them to CREATE the life that MAKES them a mother, then is it enough for them to WANT to be a mother? Did they have to PLAN to become a mother? ( in which case like one third of our own mothers didn't DESERVE it. I know *I* was a surprise..my own mother told me and chances are 1/3 of you fit in the same boat). Does the act of ENJOYING the SEX make one undeserving? How does rape fit in then?

Or is it back to money and things.. that a deserving mother makes sure that she has all her money and things in order first? So she works hard FIRST and then she gets to work hard being a mom after? That's pretty much what I get from not only these kinds of comments, but from the NCFA, from the hundreds of adoption professionals, etc. You just got to be responsible and manage your fertility until you have all your ducks in a row and deserve to get pregnant and be a mom.

And that, getting into the mythology of what makes a good mother, means you have to have the pre baby career, the house, the perfect Mr. Right ( think about it.. we tend to blame the chicks that get knocked up by jerks as "should have known better" that he was an cheating fool, or an abusive turd, etc...). All the good things, that good hard working Americans CAN get if they work hard because that is the American way.

So if you don't have all that stuff.. then you didn't work hard enough or long enough and you don't deserve motherhood.

So the poor (because they are lazy fuckers or they would not be poor) don't deserve to be mothers. The young ( even though our bodies reach their physical prime in our late teens and early twenties in regard to baby making) don't deserve to be mothers. And if we bring in the whole planning aspect, then the "opps...i forgot to take the pill..i didn't know this medication would cancel out my birth control...damn the condom ripped..omg where's my diaphragm..no means no or in my case...oh, that's why they took the sponge off the market" mothers all do not deserve to become mothers.

I bet you that's a heck of allot undeserving mothers out there. And I doubt that all them are off beating their kids right now. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if you went asking that YOUR mother might fall into one of these areas..or your grandmother..or your Aunt or even the best damn mom you can think of. They didn't deserve it..just because they got pregnant..but they rose to the occasion and WERE mothers.. and did the best they could.. and they made due with what they had?

Yet, that is not an American value that we honor?
Nope, too busy keeping track of Paris Hilton..coz she works so hard for what she has. Yeah.

__________________________________________________________________

Stay tuned for the next post were we discuss what a child deserves.

Trifecta of Taurus..reflections on turning forty

It's a big birthday week here in Adoption land. If I recall correctly, and I might not so please forgive me...Gershom begins it tomorrow, I go on Thursday the 24th and then Jenna rounds us off on the 25th?? What I do know for sure (as I wouldn't bet money that I get their two dates correctly)is that I am in a damn fine group. I don't know if the stars line up all special like on these days, I am proud to be part of this trifecta of Taurus. Maybe it is the stereotype of the strong stubborn bullheadedness, but its a pretty good time. Jenna is published in Redbook this May , Gershom is a major force with the Adoptee Rights Protest, and I'll just coast on a bit with Adoption Today and Alltop to feel warm and fuzzy. Being the oldest of the three..ok waaaayyyy older..I can't help but to get a sniffily kind of proud momma feeling with those two. Actually I get that with quite a few of our bunch..and likewise stand in awe at the mothers who have gone before me, but when I think about it.. I have "known" these fine moms for years now. Gershom was going by another name when we both stumbled upon the now gone MSN adoption forum. I was there when she first became the adoptee rights girl who cried out in anger and pain. I was there when she found her mother. I was there as she struggled to understand, when she found out that she herself was to be a mom..and then a mom again. We both grew so much together..on separate paths.. her as an adoptee, me as a mom... And Jenna...I was "undercover" at a closed MSN forum that I can't even recall the name of ( probably blocking it as it did not end well at all...bad story, bad idea. Jenna had just given birth to the Munchkin and was in the early stages of believing the machine. And like many, I recall vividly as she struggled to find her truth, walk the line and come to terms with both the good and the bad of what the adoption machine brought to her life. I know for a fact that I share my birthday with Barbara Streisand and Shirley McClain ( oh lookie..Kelly Clarkson and Jill Ireland too!) and that for years I have joke that I am mad at Babs and Shirley as they always celebrate together, but never invite me. Truthfully, Geshom and Jenna are more amazing to me. I would rather share my cake with them any day. (edited to add..I know there are other birthdays in Adoptionland now...feel free to join in! Sorry, if I mad a blunder and forgot you..I'm getting old you know!) ***** Speaking of the evil day. I am turning forty in less than 48 hours. Rye, Colleen and Garin basically told me that I have no choice and I would be having a party. I countered that I would rather inhale quicksand and cow dung, but they weren't having any of that. After much discussion and such, we are throwing a huge party this Saturday night for family and friends and neighbors. And I get a cake too. I really really would be protesting more, but we recently lost a friend and former neighbor in a yucky Heath Ledger kind of way...so I have a new appreciation for the needs of people to get together for a happy occasion. Of course, that means that I have to be the sacrificial lamb, but hey..someones got to do it and time keep ticking anyhoo. The bonus of the party is that Rye has be seriously kicking ass with getting the house in gear. My pond.. long desired since I moved into this house over 10 years ago.... is now an actuality. One of our friends even gave us two baby Koi fish as his procreated. The kids are too big to drown in it now too and it is a huge water bowl for the dog. Plus the very soothing sound of the carefully crafted and then re-crafted and then re-crafted yet again waterfall is very pleasing to, not only us, but other neighbors as well. My backyard is looking very fine indeed and so is tho house. Of course the big bonus of the party is that my brother has a good excuse to come down from Boston to visit me. I am hoping that Max will do the same, but Colleen told me that she has yet to hear a reply from Mr. Cannotpossiblyanswerhisemail, so I am not going to hold my breath. Granted he did that for the wedding too, but that day it was also a great huge surprise, so part of me is totally hoping that the same deal holds true. I would be happy turning the big 4-0 if all my kids would be here, but I shall live either way. Yeah, I am full of crap.. it would totally make the day. I miss him. *** I have had some time to think about turning forty. I know for some it is not old to you, because you are older, but as I always say: It's the oldest that I have ever been. It just really is soooooo...adult aged. No excuses anymore.. you pretty much have to face that you are,. for the most part, who you are. And really, I'm good with all that. I have a pretty good life. I have a wonderful husband to whom I feel closer to almost every day. I have four amazing kids. I have a great house. A fun job where I learn things all the time. I adore my neighborhood, my city, my neighbors, my land. Granted we are broke on the money front and, well this damn arm is still broke too, but as I tell the kids when they wist about "being rich" that is we have to be lacking in something..money is not the worst thing to be missing. Most days I believe that myself. The thing about turning older is that I realized...well hold on..I need to back tack. You know how when you think of yourself you kind of have this mental image of who you are? I guess it's like you internal self or something..like the way your own voice sounds different in your own head. This internal self never really changes. Like who I felt as "me" when I was 4 or 14, or 19, or 24, 30, 35.. it's always the same. And I do believe this happens with everyone..mostly.. but I have heard many a story of an older person..almost elderly in this case.. where they look in the mirror and are surprised by the reflection of an old person. Because they don't feel the same way as the mirror.. they are still their internal self. Now sometimes, I look in the mirror and I see my mother and it kinds of freaks me out. Not so much that I am upset that I look like her..after all sahe was my natural mother..so it stands to reason that I would, but it's usually a passing glance and I would much rather it actually BE her, so in some way it kind of reintroduces the loss of her and then also is comforting. In any case, like two weeks ago I was attacking my eyebrows and felt very "Geraldine" physically. So I am pondering this whole turning forty thing and it occurs to me that while the mirror might change, who I am inside won't..ever, I think. But what does change with the passing of years is the possibilities. Like at 16, I was still going to do so much. I was going to conqure the art world of Manhattan, be at a party with Andy Warhol and Dianne Brill, I was going to live this great life and own a club and be famous for something. At was all in my head and when Warhol died that bubble burst, but still the only thing holding me back from uber coolness was that no one said uber and my parents were a drag. At 19, even after surrendering Max, I thought that good things were now BOUND to happen to me , due by my great sacrifice of my child and I was bolstered by the possibilities of living happily ever after. At 23, facing a divorce with a young son in tow, I still believed in Karma and good things happening to good people. I still had dreams and plans and high hopes. I could go on, but you get the picture? There were all these "lives", all these "women" that I had yet to become...they were in my head as surely as my internal self lived in my head, but there were so many possibilities still of who I could be. Turing forty means that many of them just have to be let go. There just is no more time for some things. I won't ever get discovered as a model or actress or great artist. I won't ever be the kick ass lead singer of some amazing band and go on a world wide tour. I really doubt that I will ever get an Oscar or a Grammy or be on the cover of a magazine. I probably won't put Martha Stewart to shame and have my own show on HG TV. I'm not going to run for office nor find the cure for cancer or walk on the moon. Brad Pitt doe not love me, nor does Jude Law, Ewen Mac Gregor, nor George Clooney..in fact I have even given up on my beloved Adam Ant..sigh. He didn't get the virginity that I saved for him nor will I marry him. Which is OK as Rye would be pissed off big time! And besides, Adam has not aged all that well..oh heck.. I would scream like a 14 year old school girl in a second if I saw him again. George Lucas did not cast me as Queen Amidala in the prequels. I'm sooo not rich...traveling all over the world in my great exciting job. I probably will not have an amazing pink 1968 beetle convertible. And if I ever do get to go across the US, it will have to be when we retire...but we can't retire coz we are so not rich at all. And I even doubt that I will ever win Lotto. Really, it's a silly kind of list and most of it is very shallow, but what is gone now is the "someday..." Someday things will be better, different, more somehow or less... Someday I will be different, better, more somehow or less... But really, those " somedays" are all gone and what I have is these days,, and I'm not any different really, nor much better, more anything or less..( which translates into super skinny and fit..and we can add four inches taller there too...) And, again, it's not that I have an issue with who I *am* or my life..it's that turning forty means that one really has to left go of some deep childhood/internal self hopes, dreams and fantasies. And some of them are just plan crazy..like I never had a great desire to act or sing so the Oscar /rock band stuff is silly, but it was that fantasy that sometimes could really entertain my thoughts. Reality is that I am woman..a wife and a mother.. I am a blogger who sometimes gets paid to write drivel and sometimes I don't get paid to write really good stuff...I sometimes kick ass and sometimes even I desire the shelter of denial and let's pretend that this adoption surrender stuff doesn't exist.. that I am not going to have any more children, but that ones I have are pretty incredible and wow..who would have thunk that I would have four kids! I sometimes feel like a professional sock puppet and sometimes I feel like I am helping someone, someplace...that I might actually finsih writing a book, or I might continue to think about it forever...that I probably will have only half the function in my left arm ( still processing that one).....but there are still many things that I want to do and things that I want to get done, but I know that the day is only so long and sleep is my friend not my enemy and I can't be all things to all people and that every day is precious and we all stuggle sometimes and thats ok too...it's ok not to be perfect...and I suck at quitting smoking too...le sigh. And it's all ok. It's just letting go of some things..deep inside... without letting go of the actual me. Or maybe it's rediscovering a new me..at thirty I would never have imagined me now, nor at 20 and the 16 year old me might have been horrified, so where might I be at 50 ..at 60? Who will be that silver haired face that looks back at me in twenty years and what has she been doing?? *** I'm going to hang on to some. After all, forty is the new thirty you know. And the life expectancy keeps getting longer...so maybe...there are some new fantasies after all. I do wish I was wrong about Lotto... **** Oh and if anyone is going be around in my neck of the woods this Saturday the 26th, stop on by!! Bring a bottle and bowl of something to share...consider yourself invited! ha, I'm such an idiot..I invite the whole Internet!! LOL

http://adoption.alltop.com/

I am pretty dern happy. It's up. and in light of this article from ..last week in the Boston Globe? It's very cool.

A major loss for Adoption

I don't even have anything wonderful or deep to say. I am just shocked and very sad to read Bastardette today. I greatly admired and respected Di. A lovely tribute to her is here as well.

Jenna in Redbook!!!

Controlling myself, I was, from spilling the beans before she announced it officially. I so wanted to play up that a little bird Twittered to me, to go forth and find Redbook, but it was not my thunder to steal..happy and thrilled and proud as I am..still not my news. Granted I raced out..immediatly afterwork to Walgreens and even though there were three guys moving the whole magazine section..(what timing!).. i still barged through, inisted that I had to get my hands on Redbook and stood there, in their way, pageing though. Yes, it would have helped if I knew that it was the MAY issue. The joke was on me. The kudos.. go to Jenna.. for breakinginto Redbook and getting published in a big time Mag. Go give her some well deserved love.. and then, don't forget to not only buy the May issue of Redbook, but WRITE to them and say how damn grand she is!!

A 17 year old dad.. doing it right!

I just found this blog: Parent Life. I just want it here as inspiration.

AdoptionLand on ALLTOP! TY Guy Kawasaki!



I'm holding this as a draft until we are really there....( editted to add.. oh heck! I cannot wait, plus I need some suggestions, so just read down) But I am so excited, I can't help but begin this post!

I just opened my email this am and I had an email from Guy Kawasaki. Now that alone is pretty exciting....he is considered one of the "Blogging Gods". In fact, just a few weeks ago there was a hoopala becasue some other blogger got "Kawasakied" and that became a term of prestige. And them there is "Kawastalki" ..when you stalk Guy Kawasaki.. and if you do not beleive me, read here!. Ok, that's just the background.

So, Guy, being a Blog God has begun a site called Alltop. Have you heard of it? If not, then just read here for a good story of how it all came top be. It is pretty new, but a big deal as it is like the Blogger Gods Club..kind of. They take the feeds from the "top" sites on the web and then display them on a single page aggregation in "communities". They list the top five stories in the community headers, and then have links and feds to other " best of" the web sites. I use it alot for my work at Blogio.

So yesterday, I am there and I think.. "ah, no adoption sites at all?" and so I send them an email suggesting an adoption catagory and then listing, oh, a few important sites.. why Adoption should have their own listing, etc.

And then, this AM..I open my mailbox and the angels sing.... Guy said YES!!!!

Seriously, this is something to crow about. Be proud. Get a link for a badge to joyously wear.

It's like..huge. I mean one of thie things that I have learned in the past few months.. having to get out of the safe cocoon of AdoptionLand is that in the big Blogosphere...we are very segaregated. Most people, other Bloggers, the world, etc.. don't know we exist. And now.. this is like a debute. We are coming out and playing with the big kids.

Wow.. just wow. And Kudos to Guy Kawasaki... for being so approachable, so cool, so supportive. If we could send kisses on the internet...

Anyhoo...the question is: If we have this wonderful opportunity to have a best of Adoptionland on Alltop for the world to see.. what do we wish to have? I sent him a smattering of us, but we need more. So I ask you all..what's the best of the adoption websites? Leave your suggestions in the comments and lets get cracking!

Musings of the Lame: The National Council for Adoption:#links

OK.. all I was trying to was add this link on the bottom of the original article, but that did happen? Oh well. More of the national council for adoption's propaganda machine here

Sadly, another mom..

I'm at work. I'm looking up blogs. I'm making my list as usual. I am on one list and marking down which ones we have already contacted, so I don't drive people crazy. AS I hit these blogs to change their color on my Excel spread sheets, the links open on my other monitor. I don't need to look at them, but sometimes, they suck me in. Anyhoo, Boobs, Injuries and Dr. Pepper is on my list. When it opens, I take a peek. I have read there before and knew that she was goign through some hard times, hence..I definatly did not want to be a pest..and I was wondering how she was. And before I know it.. I am trapped like fly in a spiderweb.. I am reading this. ( tissue warning...very triggering!!) By the time, I am reading the intro:
"He was late. All my children were late. I turned fifteen two months before he was born." "Tell me." I began.
I know I am going to read a surrender birth story. I don't want to really. But my Google reminder actually did it's job this AM and reminded me that three years ago today I found Max on MySpace and sent him that first message... so I read. I think this paragraph says it all:
I pushed. His body slid out of mine, still connected by that magical cord and he was laid on my belly. My God, the weight of him! He's heavy! I looked down into his face and everything I had ever known until that moment became insignificant. I was looking at the first thing I had ever done that was beautiful and perfect and the magnitude of it was enough to shelter us from the noises and sterility around us. We gazed at each other and in that brief second, someone needed me.
Ah,the perfect moment. I don't know really how the author feels about her experince. I have no idea if she thinks that it was good or necessary, if she has peace, or sadness or regret. From reading the comments, and knowing the recent troubles, I am guessing that she probably has not really talked about this for years. That her readers do not know. That this is a big revelation.. that the magic trick of denial has worn away.. that she is untrawing..feeling it for the first time.. reliving..revisiting..reprocessing. Thats what I read between the lines... but take note please. Take note of the writing of this perfect moment. I have to go back to my lists, but I think this will be with me all day. There were pictures too.. those pictures..ugg... they all look the same. They stay in my soul.. haunting sadness.
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