Not So Permanent & Irrevocable After All

A little over a year ago, the daughter I had not seen since just a few months before her second birthday was in my arms again. You can catch up on that BY CLICKING HERE ON THIS HYPERLINK.

I never would have imagined we’d be where we are now. Without going into too many details, I’ll just say that the same rights a parent has to their minor child have been returned to myself and my husband via a permanent order of custody.

I spent last week reading IKL the story of my pregnancy, her birth, & relinquishment by way of the book I wrote covering it, Whispers of Grace.  How surreal to read the book I wrote about her, written just before we had contact with her, while she was sitting next to me, living with me, her bedroom just across the hall. I made it through almost the whole thing without shedding a tear. But there is no way to read aloud about what it’s like to permanently and irrevocably surrender your rights to your newborn TO that once newborn who is now beside you without shedding some tears. Her arms flew around me fast and she said, “It’s okay. I’m here now.”

How did I get this lucky? Why does my luck have to come at the expense of her leaving her friends, her culture, her home? How does she handle all of this with such grace?

I don’t know. I just know that I love her. It doesn’t feel like she’s been gone all these years. At the same time it’s so obvious she has and that hole where those years are can never be given back. We can only move forward. One day at a time.

 

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Anastasia Rose Padovani: Human Trafficker

Since Facebook removed my post for supposedly harassing someone of a protected class:


I’ll just post it here. 

Anastasia Rose Padovani who lives in Clearwater, Florida and works at Taco John’s as some kind of manager. Anastasia Rose Padovani would like to purchase a baby from a 16 year old one of her employees knows. Anastasia Rose Padovani is working really hard to make sure this disappears from the internet by reporting my post and using algorithms to have it removed when it doesn’t violate any TOS. Let’s make sure this finds its way to the right people before Anastasia can purchase a human being. 

Dear Julie

Dear Julie,

I don’t know what it’s like to live your life and I never truly will. All I know is the words you write that I, in turn, quietly read. Sometimes they hurt me. Sometimes they empower me. Sometimes they make me feel so sad for you. Sometimes I share them with my relinquished daughter and she says, “I didn’t think I thought about adoption much growing up but now I know that’s what it is. I’m sharing this on my Facebook.” She’s newly turned 17, newly thrown into “adoption speak” and is finding her voice. Thank you for helping her with that. 

I’m not here to tell you what to write or how to do it. Even if I may disagree with things you say. I can’t call myself a “champion of adoptee rights” and tell you you’re doing it wrong out of the other side of my cheek. That would be hypocrisy. 

I can’t give you a list of all my “accomplishments” in adoption land or a number of years I’ve been working for reform because that would make me an asshole who thinks I’m better than you. More important than you. And I’m not. No one is better than anyone. I don’t care if you’ve been in it 20 years or 20 days. 

I can’t tell you not to lump all mothers into one category when you write about your feelings because I can’t tell you how to feel. That would be discrediting your experiences and your reality and, well, I think we’ve had just about enough of that already. Don’t you? 

I can apologize for what some of my “sisters” have said to you. I sit in shock reading their words and really don’t know what to say. I could make excuses about how they are hurting and see their children in your words. But I know you know all of this. And it doesn’t excuse bad behavior. Besides, if they see their children in your words isn’t it even more crucial that your words are spoken so they can be what their children need? For them to learn? I know some of them just aren’t ready to get past that guilt and hurt. Me, personally, I own it. It’s the only way I know I can be. Truth is what I’ve always been seeking when I began tiptoeing out of the fog and I can’t reject truths I don’t like to hear. 

Does every adoptee feel like you? Do we really need to ask that question? Are we going to #notall you to death like others have done to us? I’m not. 

You do whatever you need to do, girl. Whatever you think will get you to where you’re going. I’m not taking it personally. And quite honestly I would love to shake your relinquisher myself. Your “relinquisher?” Oh no. Did I say a bad word? I’m a relinquisher. I’ve always been proud that I use HONEST adoption language and not “positive” adoption language. Why should I be a hypocrite just because I don’t like the truth about what I am? I don’t say I “placed” my daughter for adoption. I ALWAYS say I relinquished her. I did. That makes me a relinquisher. It’s definitely not the same thing as the “N” word. Not even close. I won’t even touch that. 

Dear Julie,

Your path and your journey does not need anyone else’s permission to be taken. It is yours and yours alone. But I do want to thank you for sharing it with the world. Not everyone is ready for what you have to say and I’m sad for them. I empathize with them. But you don’t have to. Not that you need my permission not to. 

Sincerely,

A Relinquisher

If you’d like to read Julie’s blog please visit DEEP: Through the Looking Glass; Down the Rabbit Hole

(A word of caution for first mothers – Julie is raw and her words are not always easy to read. If you read anyway, and aren’t capable of handling her honesty, please do not resort to harassing her, shaming her, leaving her nasty comments, etc) 

Adoption Awareness: Stealing Fathers’ Children and the Gladney Machine (once again)

In honor of the month, I have decided to bring awareness. The Awareness I’m bringing will violate some privacy but I don’t concern myself with the privacy of those who seek out to defraud fathers of their rights or build barriers for them that are impossible to go over in order to sever their God-given right to parent their child. 

Welcome to Adoption Awareness Month. Today I’m going to make everyone aware about the class of birth mothers/wanna-be birth mothers who intentionally do everything in their power to end any rights a father has to his child. Who work hand in hand with agencies and their powerful lawyers to create injustices. I could go on and on about how these moms are brainwashed and look how good the agency coerced them, but I won’t make any excuses for them. They don’t deserve that from me. 

The following screen shots were sent to me anonymously. And they infuriated me so much that I decided to come out of “blog retirement.” 

Welcome to National Adoption Awareness Month! Are you AWARE how fathers are crapped on when they don’t want to give up these babies??

And the comments of “support.”
I seriously hope the ex of Jodi Rose Marie (or her legal name: Jodi Ouellette) living in a Gladney’s maternity home in Fort Worth, Texas sees this and hands THIS to his attorney. 


Shame on YOU Gladney for abusing your power and money to steal a father’s child. And shame on YOU girls for being co-conspirators. 

***Edit to add: Father is most likely in the Reno, Nevada area and his first name is Chris, according to Jodi’s profile. She was also engaged to him as of January 28, 2017. Adoption isn’t mentioned until after that break up.***

I Can See the Horizon 

Sleep found me easily and peacefully. I usually suffer from insomnia and will lay awake for hours praying that slumber will come upon me. A peace I’d never known before washed over me as all of my children were under my roof in the same place at the same time. The people I value and love the most in this world. The ONLY people whose opinions about me I care about. I felt complete and whole.

But sad. Sad for what could have been. Sad for the upcoming goodbye. Sad from what my choice had taken from all of my kids without their permission. There had always been a feeling that someone was missing and while she was here that feeling was gone. But it would soon be back. Nevertheless I tried to revel in how lucky I was to even have this moment, this time, at all.

I have three daughters and two sons. Of all of my children, she is the most like me in every way. It’s almost scary how similar we are. Many times people would comment “its like looking at you when you were her age!” Or “She’s JUST like you at that age!”

And she is.

She’s tenacious, she has no filter, she looks like me, she sounds like me, she has the same mannerisms as me. Admittedly she does have my husband’s nose.

Driving to Taco Bell one day we said the exact same thing at the exact same time with the exact same inflection. That happens within families all the time. Families that you share DNA with. “That’s never happened to me before,” she said with surprise. And it kept happening. My sisters and I are always speaking in stereo. It made me think how sad it would be to go through life without ever hearing someone who sounded like you.

And she’s just like her sisters. When a neighbor started up his motorcycle too closely they all screamed, shook, and started crying. All three of them. All at the same time. DNA is some powerful stuff.

But she’s herself too. It was lovely to hear her talk about the things she loves, the places she’s seen, the people in her life she cares about and how they’ve impacted her.

And still there was this thing hanging in the air. All the shared memories we had that she didn’t. My family is big on talking about “Remember when this happened…” and then proceeding to tell a funny or shocking story. So while she was like us in every way, and fit in perfectly, there was always the elephant in the room that reminded us that she had been gone.

So many mixed emotions. So much to untangle.

My husband was smitten. He reminded me of a new father doting over his infant daughter. Except we had already doted on her when she was born. I can read this man better than anyone and the looks on his face said, “I’m in love with this beautiful creature.” As he should be. She’s pretty amazing if I do say so myself.

And here is where I decided that this blog has served its purpose. For now, anyway.

When I was hurting it was here. When I needed to vent it was here. When I was scared, anxious, worried, happy, hopeful, suffering, it was here. You were here. Some of you lifted me with your thoughts and others pissed me off. And that’s okay. Because sometimes I just needed a good fight and you engaged me.

I know this journey is ever evolving and I’m not completely abandoning this space. There may be a time in the future where I need it regularly again. But this journey is no longer just my own. Now that our lives have come together again, and she is again a part of mine, our stories are intertwined and it’s not up to me what to share.

I have let adoption consume my life. That’s not an entirely bad thing. I’ve found sisterhood and courage in this community. I’ve found courage to stand up, stand out, and help make changes. I will always be an activist. Always. But I’m also a mother and wife. I can’t spread myself too thin so I’ve decided to focus my energy on certain endeavors that will allow me to balance things more equally. I lost my grandfather, who helped raise me, and a beloved pet who was my emotional support animal, this year. The wheels of time don’t stop turning for me to sit behind a computer.

So while I’ve already bowed out of this blogging thing pretty much, I thought I’d leave you all with a happy update. I’ll pop in once in a while. But it’s time to take back my life and focus on where I can really make a change, enjoy my family, and still remain a functional member of society.