Ms. Birthmom...

Wordless Wednesday...

So Angry...

I have been reading a lot lately, which is nothing new for me.  What I have been reading is fairly new for me.  I have been reading about angry adoptees and birth moms.  I had no idea that there were so many EXTREMELY angry people.  There are more angry people connected with adoption than not.  Maybe I am simply well adjusted or something.  I don't feel anger at all on any side!  I am an adoptee and a birth mom.  I am not angry and anybody involved.  We all have done what we thought was best.  We all made choices that have lead us to where we are today.  I don't understand all the anger and hostility some people have.  I guess I would rather let go of my anger and live as happily as possible than live every day with a grudge against something I have no control over!  What are your thoughts?

I know....

I know this has NOTHING to do with adoption, but enjoy the pretty picture of Monterey Bay, anyway!

For my children...

I remember my pregnancy with you.

I fell in love with your every move, and with the sound of your beating heart.
I held your precious body in my arms for the first time and took in your sweet, angelic presence.
Nothing could prepare me for what would lie ahead.
Nothing could prevent my heart from breaking, but it had to be done.
I tried to be strong, but my strength failed me.
I never knew it would be so difficult to write my own name.
I cried, and was grateful for all the precious memories you've given me.
It was a new beginning for you. 
The healing was beginning for me.
Time went forward, I learned and grew as I slowly let go of you.
My heart was healed, my life was blessed and my prayers were answered.
Still, there's days when I cry.
I will never stop thinking about you.
Still I wonder about the person you are now, and the person you've yet to become.
I pray that you will always know of the love I have for you.
It's only through the grace of God that you were mine for a time.
He gave you to me, I lovingly obeyed his plans for you.

~C-Marie Simpkins~

I am so blessed that both my children will know that I love them.  Very much!

Wordless Wednesday...

Ok... I love this picture.  Alex took this photo at my wedding.  It is out of focus and crooked, but I LOVE IT!!!

I made it through!

Well, It has come and gone.  I am talking about Mother's day.  It was a day, well, weekend full of emotion.  Some great, some not so much!  All in all, it was a good weekend.  I was acknowledged and not forgotten.  I was thinking about all moms everywhere.  I was trying to define the word mom.  This is the definition that I came up with.  I think that if you nurture and love something or someone and want the best for them and you do what it takes to give them everything that you can.  That is what makes a mom. A mom, to me, makes the best out of what they are given to make the best for their child(ren).  A mom doesn't even have to be a woman.  There are plenty of men out there who are moms as well.  

Here's to you, moms.  In whatever capacity that means for you.  In whatever form you come in!  I love you and am glad to be among you!

 

Self Inspiration

I am great, for there is no one like me. I am grand, fore no one can love another like I can. I am beautiful am I not. Tell then where might you find someone That looks as I do?

I am singular and therfore I am amazing. Can I or you image that there is another like me. In that, I am quality, I am a miracle. 

As you note my facial features, my hair color or even my name, am I not the greatest? I am the main event. 

Possibly you say no, Tell me, how are your tears different from mine. As I cut my self, is my blood not red. Ahhh but so is yours. 

Is pain for me different from you. Are we not lonley sometimes. Do we not wish for someone to hold us. 

As we are together, we uphold each other, stand together as one. Bonded by our tears and clasped together by out hearts. Tell me now, Are we not the greatest. Am i not you, are you not me. We are the same, and together we are one.

© Rodney

Wordless Wednesday...

Labors of Love

I have stories of labor and pain,
The ice chips and a forced natural birth.
Stretch marks in places insane,
Every one of them a mark of worth.

I can tell you about transition,
And pushing ... just depends on position,
Or drugs, if you get a nice nurse.
But when I think of the absolute worst,
It's not my story about giving birth.

The grocery store where the clerk did see,
I'd left that mother wristband on me.
Just after I was released ...
And she said, "Oh! You've just had a baby!"
But, there was no baby with me.

The looks and the stares when I went back to school,
My stomach was flat but the comments were cruel.
And the waiting for pictures, the sorrow inside,
Walking out of history with tears in my eye.

The birthdays I spend locked up in my room,
Singing to my son a sad, silent tune.
I wear my swimsuit when summer arrives
But the pale marks on my tummy and thighs
Are only reminders of what I've lost inside.

These stories of labor and birth,
I would be quick to trade.
For they do not carry the worth,
Of a mother whose able to say;
"I took our son to the park today!"

So yes I have these stories to tell,
And these marks that I wear so well.
I take pride when, "I'm a birthmom," is my reply,
But when I think of the parents with my child,
I cannot lie ... it's the tears, not the story, you'll find in my eye.

I cannot tell your stories,
Of home study and paperwork.
I do know there is no glory,
In treatments that painfully hurt.
I have not spent the countless hours,
With attorney's and all their power.
I do not know your tears, but that they exist,
Or the stories you would trade,
Just for that first goodnight kiss.

Or the first time you took the baby out,
And the comments you know all about.
The waiting, the crying, the labor of your own.
Each of us bear separate marks,
Eternal tellings of both love and pain.
But which is harder to explain?
Why I have these stretch marks,
Or how you could be so thin?
How to share the deepest parts,
Of when motherhood begins?
Is there difference in our story,
The labor, so much the same.
To each of us the glory,
Even if it comes with different names.

© Courtney Frey

Another one on Mother's Day...

I know.  It is another post on mother's day.  This is a HUGE subject though. I feel it deserves another post.

The tv commercials, the cards and everything the media is hyping has gotten me thinking. Birthmoms aren't considered when all the tv commercials and cards make there appearance.  Do I want to be acknowledged?  Do I want to explain my story to everyone? It is hard to put into words, I guess. I'll try to explain it the best I can.

I do want to be acknowledged, to an extent.  I don't necessarily want to explain my whole entire story, but I do want the world to know that I am a mother.  I don't want to be made to feel as if I am a "dirty little secret".  Sometimes, especially around this time of year, I feel as if the fact that I am a birthmother is overlooked, even by my own family.  Especially by my own family.  Sisters and cousins get accolades.  Why not me?  Just because I am not an every day mom nursing the boo boos and raising my children, I am still a mother.  I carried those boys and loved them and nurtured them just as those who didn't place for adoption.  I love them very much.  They are they centers of my life, just like an every day mom.  

I know this won't make sense to some people, but I needed to write it.