Wednesday, November 30, 2011

For Health and Strength and Daily Food, We Praise Thy Name, Oh Lord!












How was your Thanksgiving?

(In case you didn't know, this post is somewhat ironic.  My family had a wonderful Thanksgiving.  I was in bed sick--yes, at my mother-in-law's--pretty much the whole time.  I am so grateful for wonderful family willing to take care of my family while I was down and out.  It was a good holiday.)

The Big Finale

It is the last day of National Adoption Month.  I have been saving this last big post with my last big surprise for this final day of the month.  Except I am waiting on one thing.  I am sorry, you are just going to have to wait for the big finale, after all.

It's going to be a good one.  When I get it together.  Thank you for your patience.

Tuesday, November 29, 2011

A Blessed Life


How the Heck am I supposed to cover 17 years of my life in one little post?  I have to tell you, I am feeling a little overwhelmed here.  I want you to know, I have run into several of you around town, some have left comments, others left messages telling me you love my story and look forward to my posts.  Well, I appreciate it, but Dang!  I am just winging it here.  I kind of feel like I owe you all something profound now.  So, forgive me if this isn't it.

We have covered how much I felt guided and comforted in my decision.  We have covered the love and support I was given by people around me and angels in heaven.  We have covered the pain, the sadness, the loss.  It is about time for some joy now, right?

I wrote a post a while back--at the moment I am too lazy to link to it; maybe I will later--where I discussed how I think life meanders around the things even the Lord has planned for us.  Sometimes, things don't work out exactly according to His design.  I could be wrong in that presumption, but it is a theory, anyway.  That's why I don't always buy into that whole "Maybe it was not meant to be" saying that people throw out there all the time by way of trying to say something comforting when things don't work out as we had hoped.  This is my theory:  even when things don't go as planned, the Lord will compensate us for our losses, as we are faithful in following Him.

This has been my life.

My first son was a treasure!  He was the joy I sought so desperately.  He was not a replacement for the first baby I had; but he was mine.  His birth was such a beautiful miracle.  And watching his father tear up when he called his own father to tell him that his baby had been born is an image I will always hold dear.  I will admit I was a selfish mother.  I had a husband who was willing to help, to change diapers, to hold the baby, to get up with the baby.  But I wouldn't let him.  I wanted to hold my baby all the time--he didn't even want to be held all the time; I just couldn't let him go.

Four more precious babies came after that first.  Every two years they came.  There were moments these babies did not feel like such a blessing, so close together, demanding in their own ways.  But I wouldn't change it for anything.  They have been a blessing.  I learn so much from each of my sweet children every day.  What a blessing it has been as well, to be able to be in the home with them, to teach them, to learn about their personalities and their individual needs.  It has been such a gift.


To be healthy.  To be able to go anywhere and do anything with my family.  We have had some wonderful experiences together.  I cherish everything.

I have been able to share my story.  What wasn't true at first has turned into an opportunity to bless and support adoptive families in our community.  I have been able to work with some expectant young mothers, in our community and in other places.  I have offered my support and my knowledge to them. I have presented adoption--and my story in particular--in church meetings and at schools.  And I have written about it here, as well as on other social networking sites.  I have also been able to connect more recently with women like myself who have had similar experiences with adoption, and that has been a tremendous blessing for me.

When I have said I don't consider myself a tragic figure, I mean it.  I know my life has been blessed.  And I know many of those blessings I could not have fully appreciated without experiencing the pain and heartache of my loss.  I didn't get to continue to communicate with my birth daughter's family over the years, as I had supposed I would be able to.  But I never let myself become bitter about that.  I held onto a hope that one day we would know each other again.  I prayed that that one day would not be forever away, but I knew it might be.  That was hard.

But I remembered always that my Heavenly Father knew and loved me.  Even if circumstances prevented it or weak human beings (I have been one of them) who said "Not now, Lord.  I will.  I'm just not ready yet" to those little nudges he sent, may have slowed it down.  I believed somehow, some way the Lord would compensate me still.  I admit to you, though, hoping in the dark is hard.  And there were times life felt really dark.

Monday, November 28, 2011

An Adoption Love Story

We have all heard the saying that goes something along the lines that sometimes our timing and the Lord's timing are not the same.  Something like that, anyway.

Well, my true love came into my life several months later than what I would have wished for and at exactly the right time for me when he did.  We had crossed paths previously, but those brief encounters were somewhat insignificant until we revisited them as each other's fiancee.  Britt would say they were not insignificant, but maybe I will let him share his perspective another time.

I have been sick this past week; I slept through most of my Thanksgiving Holiday, while we were visiting Britt's mom in St. George, and it had nothing to do with the turkey!  I finally saw a doctor on Saturday, and got the diagnosis that I had Strep Throat, got a shot, and since then I have still been doing a lot of sleeping.  I'm not entirely coherent, so I think I am going to let my journal pages tell some of that story for me:

June 26, 1994  (9:30 a.m.)

. . . .  Britt Barton asked me out!!!  So, I actually will get to go on one date in all the ten months I've been here.  He invited me to the Bar-D in Durango.  It's going to be a blast!  I've never been there before and it'll be so much fun with Britt.

. . . {stuff about Tami Harris, his missionary girlfriend, blah, blah, blah} . . .

But this will be fun.  Britt is my friend.  Here in Blanding I've only been able to find a few really good friends and they are at least 15 to 20 years older than me.  It's hard to hang out with people with jobs and families.

July 3, 1994  (9:30 a.m.)

Two actual dates in one week!  Can you believe it?  After all the time I've spent in Blanding.  And they were real dates with real people.

Darren Day just got home from his mission and he called me up.  All his other girlfriends have apparently already gotten married.  He and I went out on Wednesday.  We were going to go to Institute, but no one was there.

. . . {stuff about Darren Day, blah, blah, blah} . . .

Chrislynn [my sister] was in the Miss San Juan Pageant in Monticello last Saturday.  When I was there with her on Friday for a practice, I saw Britt Barton and he asked me out.  (Chrislynn won second attendant, by the way)

He invited me to go to the Bar D Chuckwagon near Purgatory with him, this past Saturday.  I was afraid I wouldn't be able to go, because I thought the Fourth celebration was then, and I'm scheduled to work 7-10 on the day of the celebration.

Turns out, the 4th is on the 4th.  That makes sense, don't you think?  So when Britt came to pick me up at 4:00, I was ready to go.

And when he dropped me off at 1:00 a.m., I was ready to go again.  I had a great time.  We made it just in time for the show.  Our table was way in back, but it was perfect because we weren't too crowded, and we got to eat soon enough.  It was fun!

The food was good.  The show was entertaining and the company was great.  I felt so comfortable with Britt.  When he told me he really likes my hair [I had just recently dyed it dark red and cut it short], I was flattered without feeling stupid.  He treats me with respect--i'd almost forgotten what that was like.  I could talk without feeling like my ideas were going to be shot down.  And he included me in his conversations with other people there. . . .

It was really nice.  And I can now contrast what a really good experience is compared to the crap I've been putting up with lately.

Britt said I should get out more, but I'm already resigned to the fact that it's just not happening in Blanding.  I'll be moving soon enough.

But he wants to go out with me again, before he moves to Phoenix later this week.


July 5, 1994  (10:20 p.m.)

Oh wow. . .!  He kissed me.


. . . .[He] picked me up at 10:30--I finished work at 10:15.  We roasted S'mores--well, marshmallows and made S'mores--out at Recapture.  Sat and then laid under the stars just enjoying each other's company. . . .  And then he kissed me.  We got back a little after 3:00 a.m.--I know.

Anyway, he's decided not to move to Phoenix this week.


July 12, 1994  (8:15 a.m.)

Do you know, we went for a walk Sunday night. . . .  Britt asked what I thought was unique about us.  I just started babbling.  But he said the one major thing that stands out to him is that often when he's with me, he can feel the Spirit.

What a compliment!  Wow, do I feel a little undeserving. . . .


July24, 1994  (9:30 a.m.)

Guess what surprise I got for my birthday?  I'm engaged!!  Aaagh!!  You should see the rock on my finger.  It's so beautiful.  I had such a good birthday.  Britt told me he wanted to make this my best birthday so far. . . .

I'm engaged!  I'm getting married!  It really is starting to set in now.  This still feels a little unreal.  I thought this would never happen for me.  I've got someone to spend my forever with.  Somebody up there really loves me, because I still can't decide whether I deserve this.


Heavenly Father knew I needed this joy.  He knew we needed each other.  Britt knew my whole story before he even asked me out.  It was one of the things about me that drew him to me.  Look how young we look then!

And He had so many more blessings in store for me.

Remember what I recently said about this stuff not being easy?  No, not easy, but definitely worth it!


Sunday, November 27, 2011

Heroes and Heroines

I have been working on a post.  I had most of it typed tonight, while we watched a movie as a family.  Then, the movie ended and I decided to resume the post on my computer in my room (I had been working on a draft on my iPad, which is always a little annoying, because it reformats the post and leaves out all the line spaces, so it looks like I typed one big paragraph).  But as the movie was ending, I came to a slightly different theme for my blog post, so let's see if we cannot get the two posts somehow meshed into one.

The movie we were watching was The Return of the King--the third installment in the Lord of the Rings trilogy.  Good movie, by the way.  What was I thinking, supposing I could compose a blog post--and follow the Steelers game, and pop on Facebook occasionally--while watching the movie?!  It is a movie that needs to be viewed, not just listened to, so I am afraid my original blog post would have been sorely lacking anyway.  And the Steelers game wasn't too much of a distraction.  I was just viewing web updates on NFL.com.  I guess after being out of commission the last several days (with Strep throat, I just got the diagnosis yesterday), I feel the need to make up for lost time, by multi-tasking.

Back to my point (hmm, maybe tonight is not the best time for me to be blogging; I seem to still be a little out of it).  Anyway, I decided I needed to move away from my original post which was a little preachy and kind of melancholy.  Watching the movie inspired a different sort of theme.

It was right at the end, the scene where Frodo and his friends head out to see Frodo's uncle Bilbo Baggins off as he leaves Middle Earth on a ship with the elves.  And suddenly Frodo's friends realize Frodo is leaving too, and he smiles at them, and even though they are sad to let him go, they see that it is the best thing for him.  The book covers that part of the story in so much greater depth, I was trying to explain to my kids why it was so important for Frodo to leave then.

I remember reading Frodo's story, experiencing vicariously all the trials he went through.  I remember when he came home to the Shire, it was not the same place to him.  In the books, it literally is not the same place they left, and they still have a lot of work to do to bring it back to that point.  But that is not the story shown in the movie.  Still, in both, there comes a point where all is happy and peaceful again, but Frodo feels out of sorts.  He has gone through so much, he cannot celebrate life the same way his dear hobbit friends do.  And they haven't been without trials of their own, but it is such an ultimately different experience, no one can possibly relate.  And when all is said and done, he needs to find a new home to find the peace in his soul which he seeks.

I am not a hobbit.  I did not journey to Mordor to destroy the One Ring.

But I did have a unique experience that set me apart from many.  I was the heroine in my own story.

In the Inkheart series by Cornelia Funke, the author discusses the concept that a writer always creates characters who are forced to go through extraordinary circumstances, usually ultimately triumphing in their own unique ways.  It is the mark of a good book to show an interesting, though apparently normal individual conquering incredible odds.  Think of Harry Potter, Percy Jackson, or Kendra and Seth in the Fablehaven books.

I was like Frodo in that when I returned home, I knew I was different.  I knew my experience had changed me, for the better I believed.  But as I said before, it made it hard for me to find my place.  As time has passed--yes, 18+ years have passed--I have come to accept more how different I am.  Not everyone can understand where I am coming from, nor are they meant to.  But I am grateful for those who have made the journey with me and who value the person that I am.


The end of the month is quickly approaching. I had many things I wanted to cover in telling this story, but as we have moved along, I have felt inspired to spend more time on certain parts of my story, and the need to avoid too much detail in other parts. I do not mean to skip over or not recognize the difficult times. They were very real, but I do not wish to dwell on them now. There is so much more to tell. . . . 

As I have read others' stories, I have seen a common theme. Whatever their reasoning for choosing an adoption plan, and whether they celebrated their choice or ultimately regretted it, many felt guided in the process, as I had been. And many, many felt disappointed and broken once their rights were ultimately revoked. There is an unimaginable grief that comes to all who take on the title of birthmother. We know it will be hard, but so few of us can fully comprehend the agony we will experience in choosing not to parent that child born to us. 

I tell you this not to give you the impression that I regret the choice that I made, or to say that I wish I could have avoided the pain I suffered then. In many ways now, I believe that pain was mostly unavoidable. I do wish I had found healthier ways to cope with the pain; but I learned from those experiences as well, so that, again, I do not regret.

I now believe that anyone considering an adoption plan, whether an expectant parent (or parents), or hopeful adoptive couple, needs to understand the excruciating pain that is living after loss. There is not necessarily a remedy. But while the reassuring calm that accompanies those seeking to do the right thing by their unborn child is a gift, it can also be an extenuating factor in making the devastation of their loss later that much greater. They need to be aware the pain they will feel will be very real. But it can be softened, if they continue to pray and seek the comfort that they need. And hopeful adoptive couples who choose to be receptive to considering the benefits of welcoming an open adoption plan can make a huge difference in alleviating the pain of suffering birth parents. 

Mine was not open. That was not an option then. But even though it was closed, I had a beautiful relationship with my birth daughter's parents, through letters we exchanged via LDS Family Services. The family's letters were a balm to my aching heart. I was grateful for the love they expressed to me. I was sad that our relationship could not be more open, especially as I witnessed others who were able to communicate openly and often, not limited as I was by agency policies. 

Maybe it was not meant to be open. Some things we simply cannot know until we can see the whole story, and that may not be until years, decades from now. There is always so much to learn. Even if things were not exactly how I might have wanted, that doesn't mean it wasn't right for me--and for her--at that time. 

I don't mean to be preachy. I have had an amazing month, reading awesome adoption-related posts all over the internet. Most that I have seen have been beautiful, inspiring, instructional. I am so grateful for the joy that is adoption, for the blessings that come to those touched by adoption. I hope those of you who have been following my story have recognized some of the ways I have been blessed. I hope you have opened your hearts and minds to accept your family member who is currently affected by adoption, whether as a new adoptive parent or as a birth parent. We need to strengthen and support each other and show others that adoption can be a wonderful thing!

There is still a stigma associated with adoption.  It affects families who adopt.  It affects families who place.  Many people simply do not understand adoption.  Even people who have been affected by adoption may only see adoption through their limited experience and believe that choosing an adoption plan indicates that you are a terrible, selfish person.  I did not think I was being selfish, so it was difficult for me to accept that other people would see me that way.  As much as I suffered, I also thought it was ridiculous that people thought I had taken the easy way out.  That choice has affected my life for years.  It still does.  I also think it is ridiculous when people think those who have created their families through adoption followed the easy route.  I don't think there is anything easy about adoption.

But like I said, when I began this post, we are the heroes and heroines in our own stories.  When Britt and I met, we were drawn to each other.  He had experienced his own trials in life.  He was interested in my experiences and especially how the Spirit had blessed my life.  We are not the typical characters who only get mentioned in a couple paragraphs and later forgotten.  We have fought victoriously in epic battles, separately and together.  We are not living a fairytale.  It is an epic love story, and it just keeps getting better and better. . .

(I have pictures and more about that, but I am going to try to get that in another post tomorrow)

Friday, November 25, 2011

Coping?

If you didn't understand my analogy in the previous post, I was referring to how I had been strengthened and supported by the Holy Spirit during my pregnancy and at the time of placement. I was buoyed up by the prayers offered in my behalf by so many. Angels were lifting me, watching out for me. But afterward? I felt suddenly abandoned.

Is this what happens to those who mourn, when time has passed and we forget to pray for them, we neglect to visit them in their time of need? I don't know. Maybe that is part of it.

Maybe the blessings of the Atonement were still available to me then, blessings of which I had partaken during the repentance process and while I was preparing for the birth and subsequent placement of my baby girl. Maybe I ceased to utilize those blessings as I should have. Maybe, in my sorrow, I neglected to seek the Spirit in my life.

I cannot explain why it was such a change from the joyous peace I had felt previously, but it was. Although I knew my choice was correct, I still suffered. Maybe this could not be avoided. It was a painful decision, and I needed to fully experience the consequences of that decision for it to have true value.

One thing that was expecially difficult during that time is that I felt the need to express my story, my testimony of adoption. I knew my Heavenly Father loved me and that He knew me. Even though I had kept it a secret in the past, I wanted to share how the experience had blessed my life. I was discouraged by church leaders from doing this. I also shared with people who had been my young women leaders, but the reception was not what I had hoped for.

There was an instance in which I was able to share my experience with a young woman who was pregnant. She even humored me enough to go to an LDS Social Services office in Price with me. Ultimately, she chose to parent. But I was grateful she and her family had been willing to hear me out. They may never know how much that helped me with my healing. Thank you, Valerie.

Recently, I have made the acquaintance of some other birthmoms from that closed adoption era. We have discussed some of the ways we "coped" with the pain. One woman went nun-like in the years immediately following her birth son's adoption. One self-mutilated. Two of us were the opposite of nun-like. It was a different form of self-mutilation.

I am just glad I survived that period of time in my life. In many ways, I am lucky I did. I went through a string of unhealthy non-relationships. I tried to find my way back to living the Gospel more faithfully, but it seemed like I failed over and over again.

I lived for the moments when I received an update letter from the family. Those updates kept me sane. I loved hearing how happy they were, even hearing about their struggles with finding the best formula for her. Everything I received from them was the ultimate gift. In hindsight, I can see I was too obsessive about that, but at the same time I don't know how I could have been any other way. My birth daughter's family took care of me. They wrote amazing letters. They continued to write, even after they were encouraged to cut back on communication.

I also now believe that I need to do my part to encourage all adoptive parents who can to keep an open line of communication with their children's birthparents, to send updates as often as they can, even if they very rarely hear back. Those communications were my lifeline. I am so grateful for their willingness to write to me when I requested to be able to share letters.


Although I was a mess for several months, I knew it was time I seek the Spirit once again in my life. In the time leading to my birth daughter's birthday, I decided to dedicate the month in her honor. Once again, I resolved to take care of myself more, to remove myself from unhealthy situations, to make better choices, to be nun-like. And that was when I met my future husband.

Wednesday, November 23, 2011

After

The time immediately after placement was one of the most difficult periods in my life experience.

I was lonely.  I was hurting, aching from my self-imposed loss.  I was adrift.  When I was pregnant, I had a plan:  do everything I could to take care of myself and the baby.  Once she was out of the equation, I was completely lost.

Physically, I healed rapidly.  But emotionally and socially, I had a long way to go.  I couldn't find my place.  I continued to fail miserably at finding a job.  As far as establishing relationships, I was entirely out of sorts.  I was in between.  It was difficult for me to associate with my peers, because I felt like I was on such a different level, regarding a maturity they were lacking.  I don't mean to sound so uppity.  I didn't think I was better than them.  They just could not relate to where I was in my life experience.   Okay, maybe there were times I didn't try hard enough.  I struggled to enjoy the wholesome recreational activities they pursued.  Their pursuits just seemed too simple and frivolous.

I did not do frivolous.

But my other friends were married with children.  And I didn't really fit in that world, either.  I knew I needed to move forward with my life.  It was beyond me to figure out how to do that, though.

My brother and Kim got married.  I spent some time in my hometown when they had the reception.  I reconnected with some old friends.  Then I went back to Logan.  My roommates helped me celebrate my twentieth birthday.  I wished I could have been more enthusiastic.  I was grateful.

So, one day I was playing the thousandth game of Boggle, playing against myself, alone even though surrounded by roommates--they had been Kim's roommates before she married Worthy.  The next I was completely packed up and on my way home with my family.

I was foundering.  They wanted to help.  To this day I still question if that was the correct choice for me.  But I was in such a dark place, I let the decision be made for me.

I cannot fully explain to you how incredibly difficult that time was for me.  And I was not just affected socially and emotionally.  My fragile newfound spirituality suffered as well.  If I could present an image to you, it would be this:  Picture a person being lifted and carried in a mosh pit at a concert, held up high, cushioned and supported.  Then suddenly, the song ends and the crowd forgets they are holding that person up.  Immediately, she drops to the ground, bruised and broken.

I had never, NEVER felt so alone in my life.

The concert ended and the crowd just walked away.

Tuesday, November 22, 2011

The first letter I wrote to my birthdaughter

I think it is time we revisited this post.  If you haven't already, I would recommend reading any of the posts with the label:  being a birthmother or adoption.  I love adoption.  I love the multiple ways my life has been blessed by adoption.

But I have to warn you, some of the upcoming posts about my experience are not going to be as uplifting and joyous as the stuff I have posted recently.  I am keeping it real here.  And you have to know as wonderful as adoption is, it is hard, and it is painful, and as another blogger recently said, it is almost always about loss.  You cannot get around that; you cannot deny that loss.  Just try not to be too sad for me.  I survived.  There is joy, inexplicable joy that you cannot know without first passing through great sorrow.

Monday, November 21, 2011

Meeting "the Family" Face to Face

This will be my last post in this series straight from my journal.  It tells a little bit about the day I met my birth daughter's family.  We were the first "Face-to-Face" meeting at the Logan LDS Social Services.  In the past, birth mothers and couples were not allowed to meet.  We were the first to be able to meet in person.

We were told to use fake names, and to be careful not to give any identifying information.  We were not allowed to meet until after I had signed the relinquishment papers.  It also had to be a work day, so we could meet at the office there in Logan.  That meant I had been apart from my birth daughter for over a day--she had gone home with my counselor, Steve Francom and his family.  Later, he told me I could have called them and come over to spend more time with her there.  How could I have known that?!  I honestly wished he never would have said that to me.  It just made me feel lousy about missing out on one more day with her.

We met at the LDS Family Services office in Logan on Monday, June 14.  Her parents and their son had just arrived in Logan.  I waited in my counselor's office, where I was prepped for a moment by my counselor before they came in.  They were introduced to me.  We visited briefly.  I did not grill them.  I did not have several questions prepared.  I was at peace with my decision.  Meeting them confirmed it.  Unfortunately, that also meant I didn't really know what to say, and our visit did not last very long.  All along, in the back of my mind, I was thinking they were probably anxious to meet their new baby girl.

From my diary:

Sunday, June 20, 1993  (8:15 p.m.)

The family headed home at about 1:00 Sunday.  Kim and Worthy had some errands to run, so they left me for a few hours.  That was hard.  They thought I needed to be alone, but all I could do was think and sleep and cry a lot.

Monday morning, I went in and met the family.  They were wonderful people.  I knew they would be.  The mother was emotional.  I was emotional.  The father talked a lot.  Their boy fidgeted with his Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle.

I asked one thing:  that they would read L.M. Montgomery to her.  Anne of Green Gables at least and more if she enjoyed it.  I was raised on L.M. Montgomery.  Us girls used to sit around our mother on her waterbed as she read Anne of Green Gables, of Avonlea, and of the Island to us.  I often read ahead, but I still enjoyed listening to my mother read it.

They gave me a gift.  It's a beautiful heart-shaped locket.

My brief time as a mother and signing papers

When I found out I was pregnant, my first thought was "I would be a terrible mother." My time in the hospital with my birth daughter proved otherwise.  I loved her dearly, and I realized if I had chosen that path, I could have parented her.  Spending that precious time with her also reaffirmed to me that she was meant to be with the family I had chosen for her.  My time with her was a miraculous gift.  Saying goodbye to her was incredibly hard, but I was buoyed up by a strength given to me through the prayers of several people, including my own.

More from my journal:

Tuesday, June 15, 1993 (10:00 p.m.)

Feeding Cozette Sunday morning was the most special experience.  She kept looking up at me with those wide, trusting eyes.  I would feed her some of the bottle and she would spit it up.  She had the hardest time burping.  She would strain her back with that strong neck of hers and look at me like, "I really am trying, but nothing's working."

She didn't cry.  She just wouldn't cry.  I guess she knew we'd take care of everything, because even though sometimes her face scrunched up with an expression of displeasure, she rarely chose to vocalize her complaint.

I fed her most of the bottle.  She would spit it up and I'd be wiping off her face and she'd open her mouth for more.  She was so beautiful, so trusting.

Over two hours later the feeding was over and I sent her back with the nurse.  I rested a short while.  Then I took a bath and a shower.  Dr. Isaacson visited me, asked how I was holding up.  I put on my make-up.  My parents came at 8:30 to help me through signing the papers.

Saturday, June 19, 1993  (10:05 p.m.)

Signing the papers was not too difficult, because I knew it was the right thing.  Steve Francom commented on the fact that I was crying as we went through them and I signed.  I said, "You didn't think I would."  He responded that sometimes girls just try to be tough and hold it in.

There was a wonderful calm, a peace within me after I signed the form that turned Cozette over to LDS Social Services.  I knew everything I have done for Cozette has been right.  She's now with the family she belongs to.

The rest of [my] family came at 10:30, after church.  We spent our last moments with Cozette.  We fed her again.  We dressed her in the beautiful dress that Mom made for her (the pattern and material I bought, remember?)  We took lots of pictures.  Everybody held her.  We posed with her and [my] family.


I got dressed.  We packed everything up.  Everyone said their goodbyes.  We changed Cozette out of the dress.  The nurse came and they took Cozette back to the nursery and helped me walk out without her.

A Birth Story--Part Four

Yes, there is more to the birth story. I hope you don't mind. Once again, straight from my journal:

Monday, June 14, 1993 (11:30 p.m.) What a precious person I brought into this world! What a divine, peaceful spirit radiated from her beautiful little body. Saturday, she was even more beautiful than she had been the night before. Not much of a conehead, and her face was less puffy and splotchy.

A girl came in and explained the photography package to me. Then she took Cozette out and took her picture. She said Cozette was the best baby she'd done all morning. I'll be waiting breathlessly for those pictures to arrive in a week or so. I'm so afraid that i'll forget her face, her little mannerisms. I really need those pictures to sustain me.

The photographer girl told me she had a lot of respect for me and what a strong person she thought I was. She also told me she thought I looked really pretty.

All the nurses and staff at the hospital were wonderful to me. Kathy works in the Women's Center, so she made sure I got a nice room and good nurses. My stay at the hospital was a really good experience. I could have gone home Saturday afternoon probably, but I wanted to spend more time in the hospital with Cozette.

She's so precious! I know I'm being repititious, but that really is the best description for her. She was such a sweetheart to me.  She was very quiet and trusting. Even when my mother tried to get her to cry by thumping her feet, she only responded with a look of confused discomfort.

So patient and trusting. She just waited meekly for you to fulfill her needs. Even when she cried, she did it only for a moment and then let you remedy the situation. And those all-knowing eyes that seemed to see so much beyond our earthly comprehension.

She's straight from our Heavenly Father. I believe she knew she was only visiting me for that short time and soon she would go on to her family.

We spent all day Saturday with her. I got a lot of rest that night--even though I ran a fever, I guess. I was able to feed Cozette at 4:30 Sunday morning. I need to keep bragging, but I've got to get some rest. . .

Another test post (sorry)

This is a picture I took with my iPad.  I think the quality will be better when I take the iPad out of the case.  The case creates a bit of a shadow around the lens.  I am just trying to figure out if I can get this to post from my iPad, including the words and pictures together this time.  Here we go!

--
Nan

Make it a great day!

Sunday, November 20, 2011

Test post

I just wanted to see if I could post from my i-pad. Unfortunately, even though I can load pictures from my new camera onto my i-pad, I cannot seem to add them to a blog post. We will see if I can even get this post without pictures to work. I would be sad if I couldn't blog with my new toys.

A Birth Story--Part Three


I am breaking my rule today to add another post and show off my early Christmas present.

More from my journal:

June 13, 1993 (9:15 p.m.)

They wheeled me into my room in the women's center, on my tummy--that was really weird. I'm still adjusting to the fact that I can actually lay on my stomach. The nurse there checked me and massaged the uterus down a little--my favorite thing next to cervical exams (sarcasm).

A little while later Kim was able to go to the nursery and pick up Cozette--that's what we called her. She was kind of a conehead then and really puffy and splotchy, but a beautiful baby. She was so peaceful. We got to feed her and burp her. She took to the bottle right off and she was so sweet about eating and trying to burp.

She's a very mellow baby. Wide-eyed, checking everyone and everything around her out. Long legs, long toes. She almost seemed to prefer not being bundled up, so she could spread out her legs. It's no wonder I was getting kicked in the ribs so much. She likes to stretch. But it is unusual for a little newborn to not want to be wrapped tight.

Beautiful long fingers--artistic piano player fingers. She could be a hand model. Actually, as beautiful as she's going to be--and tall, at least compared to me--she could be a professional model. Such pretty, defined lips; they look better on her than they did on her father. She's got my hair and my nose.

The nurse came in to check on her. She was really cold and her heart rate was a little low, so they had to keep her in a warming unit and on a monitor.

I guess I kind of needed to rest then, anyway. Kathy went home and said she'd be back to visit the next day. Kim suggested she go home to do a few things and let me rest. I asked her to stay. We both napped and waited.

Worthy got off work early, like at 10:15 p.m., but he had a rough time trying to figure out how to get into the hospital after hours. He came in at about 11:15 starving, so he and Kim left to get something to eat.

Kim had called my family from the hospital, and they were on their way at 3:00 (but it turned out to be later than that). I waited for them to come. Dr. Isaacson stopped in to see how I was doing. He is a really nice man. Kim is excited to have him as her doctor.

About 12:15, there's a knock on my door and in comes Kd and Chrislynn and Mom and Dad. Tim and Drew stayed home in Blanding. A little bit later, Kim and Worthy were back with their food.

We all went into the nursery to look at Cozette. The nurse said it would be alright if we took her back to the room and spent more time with her and then brought her back. 

Kd cried a lot, holding her. Cozette just looked up at her with her wide blue eyes. "She thinks you're silly," I told Kd.

Cozette was very sweet and mild. She just stared up at all these strange people checking her out. Admiring those long fingers and long toes and kicking feet, arguing over whether her sneeze was a Glover sneeze or an Asay sneeze. She didn't get the Asay ears, my mother noted.

Sent from my iPad

(I am going to have to figure that out still; it didn't work right the first time, so I had to send it to a different email and then cut and paste to make this post.  Any advice would be appreciated, Tim)

Saturday, November 19, 2011

A Birth Story--Part Two

Continuing from my journal:

(June 13, 1993)

Shannon and Rodney dropped in for a visit.  Kathy's husband Dan came with her brother Steve and the three men administered a blessing that all would go smoothly and quickly.  Then they left and we waited.

I was worried that the epidural had caused my contractions to ease up and that might be slowing my progress.  As we visited, talking about the stages of labor, I told Kathy I felt right then I could relate to the urge to push.

Kathy called the nurse back in.  The nurse checked me and announced that I was "completed."  Completely effaced?  Yes, and dilated to 10 centimeters.  We were on our way to the delivery room.

Guess we got there about 5:00.  Put my legs up in the stirrups, pulled off the bottom of the bed, and hooked me back up to the monitors.  They brought the mirror around, so I could see.  The baby's head was crowned.

The nurse started to have me push.  She called Dr. Isaacson up, and also the anesthesiologist to inject more into the catheter in my back to be sure the epidural would still serve its purpose.

Some say the epidural keeps you from feeling contractions or the urge to push.  I still felt the contraction and I felt the pressure where I pushed.  I'm grateful I had the epidural, though, because I didn't have to tell the rest of my body to relax while I tried to concentrate on that one area.  All my mental efforts were focused right there where I was pushing.

The epidural catheter had apparently slipped, because as the anesthesiologist inserted more medication, I became dizzy and heard a lot of buzzing.  He tried to remedy this--it meant the catheter was going into a blood vessel--but after he injected more, I was really tripping out.

The handles I was holding onto felt like they were sideways even though I knew they were upright. 
They also felt like they were changing sizes in my hands, though I knew they weren't.

I felt really goofy, but I was able to still concentrate on pushing when the next contraction came.  They put an oxygen mask on my face and I gulped it in.  That really helped and then Dr. Isaacson came.

After a few more times of pushing (was it even six contractions total?) Dr. Isaacson told me to open my eyes and look.  There came her head--and a hand, silly little girl.  He brought her out and they put her on my tummy and cut the cord.  Then they bathed her and let me hold her.

Wow!  It all happened so fast.  I already told you, but I'll say it again.  She was born at 5:36 p.m., weighed 7 lbs., 4 ozs, and measured 21 1/4 inches.

The most precious, beautiful little girl.  Kim, who was able to watch the whole process from behind the doctor, while Kathy coached me through pushing, got to take the baby down to the nursery.

The doctor delivered the afterbirth and stitched me up....

There is more to come. I'm "typing" this on my phone, so if there happen to be random words in this post that don't make any sense, it is Autocorrect's fault.  :)

Friday, November 18, 2011

A Birth Story--Part One

Straight from my journal:


Saturday, June 12, 1993  (10:50 p.m.)

I had a baby.  Hard to believe, isn't it?  That precious little person is no longer inside me.  She's out here, smiling at the world.  Well, not really smiling, but she's the most peaceful baby I've ever met.  You can tell she just came from Heavenly Father's arms and she knows she is just briefly visiting me before she comes home.

Seven pounds, four ounces, 21 1/4 inches, 4 1/2 hours at the hospital, born 5:36 p.m. on June 11.  She was very kind to me, although having the epidural didn't hurt, either--well, actually it did, but once it was done, everything was great.

It was amazing.  Thursday night I woke up at 3:00 a.m. and screamed at the clock for four hours while I suffered in frustrating pain.  And at 6:00 a.m. I complained to myself that they were getting stronger and closer.  Then I realized, "This is good pain"--contractions.

About 9:30 I woke up Kim and told her.  I said she could still go to work at 11:30.  I'd have Kathy come watch me and by 5:00 when Kim got off something might be happening.


Sunday, June 13, 1993  (8:10 a.m.)

Guess I was wrong, huh?  Worthy came home early--at noon--from a job he was working and wondered why Kim's car was still around when she was supposed to work at 11:30.  Kim came out and announced, "We're having contractions."

I said they were between 5 and 10 minutes apart, not regular and then stopped because I was in pain, resumed activity a little bit later and then stopped again.  Worthy insisted they were less than 5 minutes apart and that I do something about it.

I couldn't reach my doctor, so I called Kathy Thielen and she said to call labor and delivery at the hospital.  They told me to come in, so we gathered everything together, got in the cars and headed for the hospital.  As Kim's car died whenever she slowed down, I just winced and handled the extra pain brought with her nervous driving causing her to drive into every pothole on the road.

We arrived at the hospital at 1:00.  Worthy waited in the lobby.  He had to work at 3:00.


(3:35 p.m.)

Kathy met us at the hospital.  They gave us a nice room [for me] to labor in.  I couldn't take the contractions lying down, so they gave me a robe and some slippers and I walked around.  Soon, the contractions were too much to bear in the hallway.

We returned to the room, and I told the nurse I'd like to get an epidural--I forgot to tell you, though, when I got there I was sure they'd send me home.  The nurse checked me and I was dilated to four centimeters.  Kim and I just looked at each other in shock.

Anyway, when the contractions were getting to be just about unbearable (about 3:15)--we were "hee-hee-hooing" almost nonstop as they came one right after the other--the anesthesiologist came in.  He had me roll up in a ball on my side.  I practically squeezed Kim's hands off as I closed my eyes and breathed with Kathy.  All I could concentrate on was the breathing.  The hardest times were when Kim and Kathy stopped "hee-hee-hooing" with me.  But how could I tell them not to stop?

Then, as I was gearing up for another contraction, I started the breathing, but partway through I lost the contraction.  What a relief!  As we visited after the anesthesiologist left, I was better able to recognize the contractions as my body tensed--without the pain. . .


You may have noticed, I was writing this account during the time I was in the hospital with her.  I felt it was important to record the experience while it was still fresh in my mind.  I am a little sad I did not think to do this with my own children's births.  Each one is unique, of course.  One thing to note, this was the only delivery I experienced in which I went into labor ON MY OWN, and before the due date.  My daughter Rachel is the only one of my kids that was not induced.  And I think Cole is the only one who was born before his due date.  This was also the only time I was able to get an epidural, and with all of my babies being posterior, I experienced nasty, miserable back labor every time.  I have been grateful I had the epidural this time, because I was able to experience more clarity in the experience, rather than being in a cloud of pain.

Was Heavenly Father watching out for me then?  There is no doubt of it.

Thursday, November 17, 2011

Fools

Garrett and his friends are no Fools, but they did a great job of acting like Fools when they performed Neil Simon's Fools at the high school last week.  If you missed it, you missed out.  Every one of them played his or her part nearly flawlessly.  If someone missed a line, or forgot a cue, they all hid it perfectly.  The lights and sound, set and everything else also went very smoothly.  It was really fun to watch.

I caught a picture of Garrett with his friend Brandon after their final performance this Monday.  Brandon, who has always been behind-the-scenes in plays in the past, took on the role of male lead after another student had to drop out of the production.  He did really well, and not just for his first time.

This picture represents the cast and some of the crew.  Most of these kids are sophomores (Garrett's grade) or younger.
Left to right:  Tryston Kartchner, Jennifer Webb, Jessica McDaniel, Koy Nielson, Rachel Metzger, Braxton Brown, Kortney Johnson, Liz Meyer, Dominique Sherrow, Dakota Adams, Becca Jean Black, Samantha Bergeman, Jill Hook, and Garrett.  (not pictured:  Janene Fahey, Zach Jennings, crew, and Ann Jennings, director)

One last picture of the actors hamming it up for the camera (Oh, and a couple crew members, too).  You will notice Garrett had already changed out of his costume.  He played the "Bootcher," Slovitch.

By the way, Garrett is now officially taller than me.  Hooray!  He has gained more than 20 pounds since wrestling season last year.  The wrestling team has started practicing, but Garrett has decided not to wrestle this year.  They increased the lowest wrestling weight from 102 to 108, and there is just no way we can make up that extra 20 pounds in one month.  He is excited to be more involved in other activities this year, including FFA (he wants to be a veterinarian some day) and more drama activities.  It works for me.

Just so you know, my life's dream is that every one of my kids outgrows me.  For so many years, I HATED being tiny.  I think I was probably about 29 years old when I finally let go and quit cursing the circumstances that made me feel like I was looked down on, belittled, and never taken seriously.  Those frustrations may have all just been in my head, but that does not mean they weren't real to me.

I love the handsome young man Garrett is becoming, and hope this growth spurt sees him outgrowing the new pants I just bought him by Valentine's Day (or sooner).   He doesn't fit any of the jeans I bought him at the beginning of the school year.  It's good news (even if it is expensive).

Wednesday, November 16, 2011

I get by with a little help from my friends

Yep, that's me, second from the right.  Eight months pregnant, at Disneyland with my family

Recently, I posted about how isolated I felt when I realized I was pregnant.  I felt the need to run away from my judgmental hometown.  I thought I needed to keep it a secret, especially since I was pursuing an adoption plan.  I even tried to hide it from my psycho roommates, even though they had their suspicions, especially the girl who tried to spy on me in the shower (no, I am not kidding), and even opened my mail (a medical bill), and then resealed it with the address backwards in the window.

That roommate was the exception in my experience as an expectant young mother.

So many wonderful people rallied around me when they heard about my situation.  Even people who didn't know my plan reached out to me and watched out for me.  If I start naming people, I will definitely miss someone.  You know what, I am going to name some of them anyway.

Obviously, my family took care of me.  The first person I told was my big brother Worthy.  He had just asked his girlfriend Kim Hurst to marry him.  He was riding high after she said yes, and then I had to spoil it by telling him about my stupidity.  He was so good about the whole situation, and he encouraged me to tell Kim right away.  I loved Kim dearly, but it was really hard for me to tell her.  I think I almost wanted Worthy to do it for me, but I am grateful that he made me do it myself.  Kim was my angel.  I have told you that before, because it really is true.  She and her roommates took care of me in so many ways.

Angie Wager did not know I was expecting, but she helped me and loved me in the moments we saw each other.  The same was true of Tara Phelps and Jen Tate.  True friends.

Various bishops took me under their wing.  The first in my hometown, then in my college ward, in Kim's ward, which I preferred, especially because of her loving bishopric, and finally the bishop in the family ward I ended up living in, when I moved into Kim and Worthy's apartment--the apartment that they would share after they got married.  The family ward Relief Society president and her family were also especially compassionate to me.

Dan and Kathy Thielen gave me babysitting jobs when I was having such a difficult time job hunting.  They even set me up on a date with a friend of theirs when I was seven and a half months pregnant.  It was also really difficult for me to tell them about my pregnancy.  I spent so much time with those dear friends and their kids, I sort of assumed they would figure it out, but I hardly showed at all, and I always wore baggy clothes.  Needless to say, that date was a pretty awkward experience.  Jared Brown could tell you.  He was my date, and he figured it out on his own.

Good people from San Juan County wrote letters of support to me.  People who didn't know my story but wanted to let me know I was loved.  Maybe they did know my story.  I thought I hid it pretty well, but the rumor started to spread on its own, anyway.  My future mother-in-law was one of those who wrote, sending her love and support.

My doctor was such a good man.  He was very kind and patient with me.  The nurses in labor and delivery and other workers in the hospital were very compassionate and respectful.  I had an ultrasound tech that treated me pretty terribly--I think she thought I was an awful person because I was pursuing an adoption plan.  That was the first time I really experienced any negativity relating to my choice.  She didn't try to determine the gender of the baby--maybe she thought I didn't care--and I was too naive to know to ask her about it.

Other dear friends in Logan included Shannon and Rodney Hickman, Daryl and Shanna Guymon, as well as several good neighbors and ward members.  There were also some sweet girls I made friends with through the birthmother group meetings at LDS Social Services.  The family that Kim babysat for full-time, and the family for whom I babysat briefly were also very good to me.

I was surrounded in the arms of love.  The good people all around me were such an amazing comfort to me.  I know prayers were offered often in my behalf.  I felt them.  I knew of my Heavenly Father's love for me because of the service rendered to me over and over again by His children.

Tuesday, November 15, 2011

Growing Pains

I'm a little bit upset that time has not allowed me to get this done sooner.  And I really am too tired to stay up much longer, so this is probably going to be kind of a pathetic post.  I just know I am running out of days in this month, and I do want to tell my story, besides a few other posts I need to throw in here.

Once I realized I was pregnant, I decided I needed to get out of my hometown.  I started contacting people, looking for a place to stay in Logan.  I found a place.  I packed my things up, thinking carefully about the things I could not bear to be without.  I honestly did not expect to be heading back home for a long time.  I felt like I would need to stay in hiding.  I knew I would have to tell my family eventually, but my older brother was still serving a mission, my two younger sisters were still in high school, and my younger brothers were in middle school.  My mother was busy in her new position as assistant dean at the college.  I didn't want to burden my family with that information yet.

I moved myself up to Logan entirely on my own.  When I got to town, I tried to call some friends to help me load boxes up the steep, icy stairs, but I was unable to reach anyone.  I started job hunting up there as well.  I contacted LDS Family Services.  I made an appointment with a doctor, recommended to me by LDS Family Services.  I located my college ward--only to discover it wasn't the right ward, but then I found the right one.  I started working with my bishop there, too.  I had already begun the repentance process in Blanding.

My mother would not have recognized me during that time.  And I am not talking about the pregnant part--I barely showed, even when I was several months along.  No, I mean when I was in high school and even in the year after, I relied on her to do a lot for me.  I probably never would have gotten a college application filled out if it weren't for her help.  I read in my journals about those first few weeks in Logan, and I can't even believe it is me.  As a matter of fact, some of the things I did (like baking and collecting recipes like a madwoman) were only true of my personality during that brief span in my lifetime.  Pregnancy-hormone related suddenly being productive and filled with purpose?

I don't know.  There is more to it than that.  There were so many things about my life then that were guided and blessed.  So many things that happened as they were meant to, things that helped me navigate this difficult position in which I now found myself.  Now, the set of roommates I moved in with would not necessarily fit in the category of blessings, unless we are referring to the kind of blessings we experience through trials.  My roommates were all LDS and none of them attended church.  Half of them partied (alcohol and other drugs) almost all the time.  I found myself repulsed by the lifestyle choices they were making, several of which were actually similar to choices I had previously been pursuing.  I viewed my life then through such different lenses.  I knew I needed the Spirit with me.  I sought it desperately.

And the Spirit was my close companion, helping me through this lonely, desperate time.

Saturday, November 12, 2011

Choices that Change You--Part 2

No child wants to hear they were a mistake.  (You may have noticed I changed the title of my previous post about my adoption story).  A friend on Facebook pointed out that maybe I should change my phraseology, and so I did.)  None of my pregnancies with my daughters were planned, so I suppose one might say they were mistakes.  But I never have.  Even though their timing wasn't what my husband would have considered ideal, we are grateful they came to us when they did.  When I tell people that my girls weren't planned, I tell them that they are our gifts.  Heavenly Father had his hand in how each of our children came to us.  They came when they were meant to.  I am grateful for the family that I have, for all five of my children who were added to our family every two years after the first was born.

Nineteen years ago, in another lifetime, when I realized my choices had affected more than just myself, I have to admit that my initial response was definitely not one of gratitude.  It was a difficult time for me.  I came to realize that another innocent life was involved.  My reckless behaviors had led to a huge consequence, and the decisions I made from then on were no longer just about me.  Suddenly, everything was very serious:


(In case you cannot read my lovely handwriting, this journal entry reads: 
 
Thurs, Nov. 5, 1992, 11:05 p.m. 

I've been feeling kind of sick, and altogether basically tired & depressed.  I can't get enthusiastic about anything lately.  Things certainly can set me off & get me easily upset, though.  I'm so uptight.  I've got so much building up inside me & I can't let it out. 


Every now & then, a burst of steam shoots out uncontrolled.  I'm afraid the whole thing is going to bubble over & explode. 


Nobody knows.  I can't talk to anyone, not even you.  My soul is screaming inside, but what can I do?  What can I do?  Everything is so real & scary.  There is no one to help me overcome my fears.  I have to handle everything alone. 


Consciously, I feel quite calm.  My future is a great blank.  I don't know what I'll do, but I'll handle it somehow.  In some way, things will make themselves work out.  I'll make it through. 


But inside, there are so many questions, frustrations.  I've got to take it as it comes, but what if I don't want what's coming?  I'm totally unsure of how to handle any of it.)                                 



I did not realize it at the time, but this baby that would be coming into my life was a gift.  She was the first gift.  Over the next few months, I came to believe the truth of this statement.  She saved me.  She brought me back to myself, and back to the Gospel, back to my testimony.  She helped me to take care of myself again.  Because I knew I owed it to her.  I knew I had to take care of her, and in doing that, I helped myself, too.

Tuesday, November 8, 2011

Tonight I am thankful for EXERCISE

I just got home from Zumba class.  My arms are tired.  It is a good kind of tired.  Beth encouraged us tonight to do as many regular pushups as we could before we switched to girls' pushups (meaning on your knees).  Well, I didn't think I needed to do girl pushups, so I stayed up the whole time, again and again.  She would break it up with lunges and curls, and then we would go back to pushups.  I was determined I was not going to do girl pushups, but I was starting to think my lofty goal was a little foolish by the time she had us do the last set of pushups.  Still, I am glad I could do it; the girl pushups just didn't feel right.

Not that there is anything wrong with girl pushups.

I am grateful that my sister Kd encouraged me months ago to start going to step aerobics with her.  I had quit my regular running routine when I started working full time for Britt, and even after we cut back my hours, I hadn't found my way back into it.  I needed it.  More than I can say I needed it.  When I was dealing with postpartum depression after Olivia was born, the Prozac was nice, but the running was what really healed my hurting soul.  Listening to "Wait, Wait, Don't Tell Me" while I ran probably helped too.  I think it is great to laugh while exercising.

Just not while you are trying to do pushups, whether they are the girl kind or not.

I like working out hard--I usually go in the morning--spending a productive day and then falling into bed fast asleep.  I find I sleep better, I worry less, and usually I don't dread waking up in the morning.  As much as I would like to just stay in bed sometimes, I know it is good for me to get out there and get healthy.  I like being tired in a healthy way.

Yay for exercise!

Monday, November 7, 2011

Choices that Change You--Part One

No pictures on this post, but at least it will be a post. :)

When last I told you a little bit about my story, I had just ended my freshman year at Utah State University.  The scholarship that I lost had been one I earned by competing in the Regional Sterling Scholar Competition in English, in my senior year in high school.  I had received runner-up, and Utah State offered me a scholarship for full tuition for one year.  I still think it is ironic that the high school counselor tried to tell me I did not have enough English credits to graduate, since I lived, breathed and ate English, especially Journalism, but they didn't count that as English credit.

I am starting to get off track.  Anyway, college was over.  My spring job was ending, and it was time to move back home.  I had been working at a greenhouse, where I scammed with one of my co-workers, a guy almost 9 years older than me, and ended up being his girlfriend for a couple months.  I wasn't a very good girlfriend, but I liked being with him.  He helped me move all my stuff back home.  He even ended up staying a couple days.  I took him sight-seeing, Natural Bridges, out to "the cave".  We told each other we loved each other.  Then, he headed home.  But he didn't get very far, because his car broke down between Monticello and Moab.  So we enjoyed more time together, and then he left.

I was bored and miserable in Blanding.  So much had been going on all the time in Logan, and in Blanding there was nothing.  And I missed my boyfriend, or at least I missed being close to him.  We didn't really know how to talk to each other on the phone.  I had a terrible time finding a job.  I had assumed my old boss at Parley Redd's grocery store would hire me back, but he wouldn't.  I ended up taking a job at a convenience store.  I ended up hanging around with a couple of the guys that worked there, besides the manager's son and--well, yeah, it's too complicated.  Basically, I was surrounded by guys all the time, bored and restless.  It was not a good combination.

When I read in my diary about that time, it is kind of confusing, because one minute I will be talking about missing my boyfriend like crazy, and then I am talking about falling for this guy who is related to some of the people I work with, and then it turns out he is still married, but separated, and then my boyfriend comes to visit, and then there is this other guy.  What the heck?  I mean, within a few weeks, I was this entirely other person, and it seems like I was just being the girl that suited the situation.

I remember my boyfriend came to visit, and I was already going in this completely different direction.  He wanted everything to be like it had when he left, but there was no foundation besides us really liking to be with each other, kissing and that kind of stuff.  The truth was I had been addicted to him, but when he was gone, I just replaced him with someone else.  Only it wasn't just one someone else.  And it wasn't just kissing.

Now, I can look back at that and I just shake my head.  What the heck was that little girl thinking?  Because I was just a little girl then.  I wish I could have held on to that girl I was a little longer. . .

Saturday, November 5, 2011

This is not a post

I am sorry these posts about my adoption story are kind of boring.  I suppose I have already covered some of this stuff, and going into detail isn't really necessary.  I just thought I could do a post a day if I really included the whole history, a little bit at a time.  But maybe I think my story is more interesting than other people do.

Anyway, my husband is kind of sick of my blogging late into the evening, which is when I tend to be wrapping up my stories, so I am going to take a little bit of a break on this story.  I have a couple other things I want to post, so maybe I will mix it up and not post every day this month about myself.  Either way, I am going to try not to let this take over my evenings, because I think Britt is starting to hate this blog.

Obviously, I will not be blogging tomorrow.  I am still on a technology fast every Sunday.

Friday, November 4, 2011

Mistakes







I told you about that sweet girl I was in high school.  I thought I would share some pictures with you.  This first picture was me as a sophomore or junior in high school.  This one was taken when I was a junior.  I had a huge crush on this guy and then he moved.  When I found out later that he had really cared about me, too (after he had moved) I was sick for weeks.  Unrequited love or something like that.  


The next four pictures were taken when I was a senior in high school.  School dances and graduation.  Yeah, graduation night was not my favorite.  My attitude was "Let's get this dang thing over with!"  I didn't go to the organized graduate party that night.  Why? 'Cause I was a snob.  I don't know why.  I remember thinking I didn't want to chauffeur my best friend and her boyfriend around all night while they made out.  I ended up coming home early, like at 10:00 p.m. and sleeping on the couch, while my mother spent the night waiting up for me wondering when I was going to get home.

























Oh, the grief she felt that night was nothing compared to what I was going to put her through.


My freshman year at college was an interesting experience.  I wouldn't trade it for anything.  I had a couple serious boyfriends and several "scams".  Back then, "scamming" meant making out with a guy without any commitment.  Yeah, I was pretty busy scamming most of the time, more than I was studying for my classes.  My best quarter that year was the one where I was down with mono and only had time to eat and study between sleeping.  By the end of that year, I had lost my scholarship, been arrested, been told "I love you" by my boyfriend (ugh!), and made some lifelong friends, people who still mean the world to me even though we don't talk on a regular basis.  I learned a lot about myself then.  For one thing, I learned I was not ready to commit to a serious relationship, because I felt like I didn't love myself enough to let someone else love me.  I would soon realize how true this was.  How much I needed to know and respect and love myself more . . .




(That last post was kind of an interruption.  I am going to try to keep telling my story in order)