A Year Later

The truth is...she is in my thoughts more than once a day - every hour, lately. It will be a year on Thursday that Marg passed away and to be honest, I'm a wreck. It's like I'm stuck in the middle of, well...a tsunami of grief.

I saw a therapist last Wednesday and I wasn't going to cry. I'm not a big crier, if I cry, the world has to be pretty much falling apart. Apparently - by the looks of it - it is.

The therapist thinks that I never grieved for Marg. That I hid my feelings mostly, because I didn't feel that I even had the right to grieve. Why would I grieve for someone I was in and out of a relationship with? Why would I grieve for someone that placed me for adoption? Why would I grieve for someone that my half-siblings told me - at the funeral - wasn't mine and that I wasn't welcome or a part of their family.

It's complicated. The emotions. She's my birthmother.

Last year, only two people recognized my loss and sent a card to me. One of them was the adoptive mother of a boy I grew up with. The second was a friend of my mother's.

That's it.

Think about it. There aren't any 'sorry your first mom died' cards. And trust me when I tell you that when someone asks why you were off work for a few days and you reply, 'My birthmother died...I'm adopted,' they turn red and they look like they want to crawl into a hole.

I still feel like I need to hide my grief. I still feel unvalidated. I still feel like a dork when I can barely swallow the lump in my throat and make it from my office to my car before I collapse. (I still feel like I should have no reason to feel the way I do.)

I feel so alone and my heart hurts.

The Truth

Request for prayers

As I do every morning when I get into my office, grab my cup of tea and log into my computer...I come here, to my blog and then take a quick peek at my fave blogs to see if they've been updated since the day before. This morning I clicked on Melissa's blog at Full Circle and had to read her last post, a few times. All I wanted to do was reach through the computer screen and squeeze her tightly.

I'm posting this simply to ask that you keep her, and her family, in your prayers and send love her way. Her husband died suddenly this weekend and though I have never met her, or him, in person...I feel like I know them - at least know their character. Both have amazing hearts and overflowing love for each other and their kiddies.

Life is so fragile.

Mr. T

I feel like I've been walking in a circle today, without a purpose or destination.

My phone rang yesterday evening around 5 pm and on the other end was a friend, with news. The kind that makes your stomach turn inside out. I'm still in complete shock.

Our friend, Tom, passed away yesterday in the very early morning hours. He was 37. I've known him for six years and met him at my last place of employment and saw him just a couple of weeks ago. He was in Marketing, I was in Communications and we became two peas in a pod. I loved his Scottish self.

Tom had been at a get together on Saturday evening and stayed over at the house he was visiting. In the night - early morning hours - he got up for some reason and fell down a flight of stairs and died instantly. Gone. Dreams. A job. Friends. Family. Future kids. Gone. Everything...gone.

His mother, father and one of his sisters are flying from Scotland to Canada later this week. His mother needs to see him and then they will escort him home.

I feel like I'm in a daze and am wondering why the rest of the world has not stopped, too. Doesn't everyone realize what happened? Yet, life just keeps on going...forcing me to keep on going.

It's impossible to sum up the kind of person Tom was without writing a complete book. He was the kind of guy that would give his last penny to anyone that needed it. He was the kind of guy that when he gave his word and said he'd do something, or be there, he would follow through. He was the kind of guy that never (NEVER) said one negative word about another person. He was also the kind of guy that would fall asleep at his desk (in his defense, during June and July we would work 18 hour days for a run of 3 to 4 weeks without a day off) and wouldn't notice as we used a packing tape gun to tape his legs TO his desk. He was the kind of guy that would have a burping contest to see how much of the alphabet he could burp out in one go. He was the kind of guy that wore a suit and tie - even on weekends. He was a sarcastic, caring, crazy smart and talented guy.

I just can't imagine this world without him. It just doesn't feel right.

Simply put, he was amazing.

A 'Moment'

I had a 'moment' Tuesday evening.

I was sitting on my couch, cleaning out my purse and organizing my bills and personal papers, listening to my laundry thump around in my dryer, sipping Sprite and munching on some Lays and watching And Then She Found Me, which stars Helen Hunt and Bette Midler. It's kind of an odd flick (aired on OWN) - I'd give it, overall, about a 5.5 out of 10 - but basically Helen Hunt is an adult (married) adoptee that wants to have her own child to have 'someone like me' and Bette Midler is her birthmother (and is famous). Midler searches out Hunt, who doesn't really seem to want any type of relationship with her birthmom, but Midler is persistent. A strange, yet intimate, relationship develops between the two and in the end - like in the last minute of the movie - Midler ends up funding Hunt's adoption of a daughter from China.

It was the relationship between daughter (Hunt) and mother (Midler) that drew me in. What started out as awkward and needy, turned into a deep connection that they both needed, but didn't know they did until they met. When they get somewhat comfortable with each other, daughter finds out that mother had actually kept her for the first year of her life and then placed her, because she (admittedly), "Wanted a life (career) more than I wanted you." Upon finding this out, daughter's world is turned upside down and mother basically stalks the daughter until she will speak to her and allow her to apologize. Upon this moment...daughter lays it on the table and says that the mother can make things better by paying for the cost of the procedures that will allow daughter to become preggers.

I know...I know...the drama of it all! It's a movie, remember.

The 'moment' hit when mother was at the doctor's office with daughter, who was about to have a procedure that would knock her up.

As the doctor was about to start, the mother said to the daughter, "Well, don't you want to pray first?" The daughter was raised Jewish and would pray before she'd even eat a morsel of food. The daughter declined. The mother asked the doctor if they could have a couple minutes alone. The mother tells the daughter to pray and again, daughter declined. The mother then grabs her daughter's arms and demands her to pray (note: mother is not religious whatsoever). This goes back and forth and builds up until the daughter breaks. She admits that after everything that's happened over the last year of her life has made her doubt in a God. Long story short, she and her mother connect in this scene in a way they hadn't before. To the core. The doctor's come in, daughter goes to get on the table - stops to pray out loud - and mother puts her hand on her daughter's arm. (Of course, like I noted above, she ends up adopting from China, in the end.)

It was during this scene, when I had my 'moment'. And the tears came pouring out as I went over my relationship and connection with my birthmom in my mind.

What we had and didn't.

What could have been and won't be.

My heart went back to the last time I saw Marg. She was in a coma and in the palliative care ward. She looked so small and precious in the bed, resting comfortably. Her favourite country tunes were playing in the background on the tape player. On a dry erase board, a note was written in my half-sister's writing, "If Mom's music stops, please turn the tape over and press play - these are her favourite songs." The tape stopped, I turned it over and pressed play. (No one knew I was there, other than two nurses that let me into her room - I wasn't on the 'ok visitors' list, but my tears and explanation that she was my first mom gave me immediate access to her room. Bless these nurses.)

I don't want to share all of the details of my last moments with Marg. It's too intimate. But, I did hold her hand, brushed her hair, kissed her nose and said 'see you later' in the way that felt most right at the moment. I told her that I loved her.

I know that Marg and I connected the way we did and that things worked out the way that they were meant to be. There are good memories. I do wish things had been different...adoption robs...but I don't have regret. It just made me sad that she will never get to meet my future children. HER grandchildren.

My children, will be Marg's grandchildren. Mine will be hers and hers will be mine.

What a gift that will be. To us both.

And this all came from one movie.

As the adoption world turns...

I received an email this morning from Wendy (bfather's brother's wife). She sent me a forwarded email, but it was sent to only me. She doesn't normally send me emails of any kind. Our last email exchanges were light and friendly. I opened my door, she seemingly wanted in, I told her I'd love to see her and Mike and she agreed. But then, nothing. This is her thing. Oh yes, yes, Laurel...we want to be a part of your life...blah blah blah. I say, well, my schedule is open, would love to hang, be in touch. And nothing. Thankfully, over the past two years I've been in a space where I'm able to be perfectly fine if I do, or don't, hear from her. No expectations. That was a longggg time coming!

(Btw, the forwarded email was about 'What if there isn't *anymore*?'. It's basically about how we don't realize that the little moments we have now, can one day just disappear and be gone. How we can lose the opportunities for 'anymore'. People can die, friends can leave, etc. And then it ends...if I don't wake up tomorrow, know that I love ya.)

I get that THIS is how she just is. I suspect - now - that she is like this to not only me. (I hope so, anyway. Maybe I'm off.) It's very Wendy-ish to talk the talk, but not walk the walk. It's Wendy-ish to say how much she wants us to connect again and build a better relationship and that she's gonna call and then not take any steps towards that. In fact, it would also be very Wendy-ish to start hitting below the belt, too. Watch out if she feels threatened in ANY way. She'll just start to throw punches that don't even necessarily hold any truth. THAT is just Wendy (and is not the one I like).

But, I also know the Wendy that she doesn't want anyone to know. The one that is insecure. The one that holds people at arms-length in an attempt to not ever get hurt. The Wendy that gets hurt easily. The Wendy that buys these amazing cards that speak what she's really feeling, but only signing 'Wendy' to them. I know the Wendy that did open her door to me when I contacted her in 2003, completely out of the blue.

I know the Wendy that let down her guard enough to let me in. I know the Wendy that sat with me - the first time I stayed with her and Mike - 'til 2 am just chatting and sharing. I know the Wendy that willingly wrestled with me the next night on the damp grass and didn't flinch when Mike poked his head out the door telling us he was going to bed and rolling his eyes. I know the Wendy that painted my nails, hugged me lots (even though she's not a touchy-feely gal), gave me advice, believed in me and would smack my butt if I bent down anywhere near her.

THAT'S the Wendy that I want in my life. I want that connection with my birthfam. I just don't know that I'm strong enough right now, to open that door again. A few months back, I'd be able to shoot her off an email and say hey...but today, I don't know that I'm strong enough to do that without expectations attached. I have so much going on in my life at the moment that is very heavy and pressing, that I'm not in a great space to rationally think this one through, right now. I don't feel strong enough.

I'm hoping that if I sit with it for a day or two, my feelings might change.

Sisters

My sister. My older half-sister, more specifically. This could be a doozy, folks.

When my bmom had me, she was married and had two children (ages 5 and 6). They both shared a father that was not my father. I grew up believing that I had two older sisters (turned out, one was a brother – mistake in the paper work – so I will only refer to my actual sister in this post) and I longed for my siblings. I longed for my sister. My big sister.

There was – and IS – a primal connection that my sister and I share. It has always been there. From the moment that we met (the day I first saw my bmom, face to face) it was instant. We didn’t know each other…but, boy…we KNEW each other. I can’t explain the connection, but it’s one that some sisters share. The ability to communicate without words. The same mannerisms. A connection that made it comfortable enough to immediately sit beside/on top of one another and speak out whatever came into our minds. We were alike on so many levels. We are both sensitive, compassionate, non-judgmental, sarcastic, funny and we are both incredibly stubborn. I love H with all of my heart and soul…in a way that I have never loved anyone else.

Reunion was rough on us. We needed each other and we both carried some very heavy burdens that we placed on each other’s plates. We had both grown up in very different worlds. And, unfortunately, she assumed that my life was a piece of cake. Perhaps it seemed that way…but let me assure you that being adopted had colored my entire childhood, teenage years and to this day, is the most significant issue that I deal with – every day. Thank goodness that it doesn’t necessarily carry the same dark weight that it may have years ago…but it is still there and always will be.

So, yes, reunion was rough. Here we were…sisters…yet, we didn’t know each other. Our relationship was a roller coaster. We would spend years, months, and weeks together, in relationship and then it would dissolve and we would not speak for years, months and weeks. It was dreadful. Here we were…sisters, yet the connection we were supposed to share was ripped apart the day my bmom delivered me. We fought. We cried. We hurt. And then, after years, she slammed the door shut over something that was totally inaccurate and untrue (she accused me of something that never happened) and kinda absurd.

And here I am today, still feeling like I lost part of my heart when she said – what seemed to be – her final goodbye. I feel like a part of me is missing…and I know she holds that part. My heart will never be completely whole, without her in my life. That’s the simple truth.

After the fiasco with my birthmother dying and seeing H at the funeral home (from a distance) I would like to say that it doesn’t matter. That her behavior and my brother’s made me finally not give a crap about her (and him). That I’ve shed the last tears about losing her. That my door is shut and I’ll never think of her again. That my heart doesn’t break anymore when I see sisters together, holding hands and sitting on each other’s lap.

But, I don’t know that my door will ever be firmly shut – to her. She’s my sister. My big sister. I will always love her fiercely. I will miss her every day of the rest of my life. I will miss her on my wedding day, the day I kiss my first child and on everyday that holds a monumental event in my life.

I just can’t stop missing her. I just can’t stop loving her.