Let's Fix This

Three years ago, my husband bought me a new computer, a Mac.  I was thrilled to have a new computer but reluctant to make the switch from my Dell computer.  Finally, I realized my Dell was dying, and if I wanted to save my files, pictures, and music, I had better start transferring it.  I had an external hard drive already, so I began the process of moving everything onto it.  It was a long, tedious process, organizing files, deciding what to keep, but finally I moved everything onto the external hard drive.  Then, my house was struck by lightning, and my Dell computer was a casualty.  I finally realized it was time to move all those files from my external hard drive onto the Mac.  Except, for some reason, I could not access any of the files, no matter which computer I used.  

Before I began the process, I had checked to make sure the Mac and the Dell would both communicate with the external hard drive.  When I saw that communication was possible, I began the process of transferring everything onto the hard drive.  I did not periodically move things from the hard drive onto the Mac because I already knew it would work, and I figured I could complete the final transfer later.  But now it was later, and my Mac was telling me the external drive was corrupted.  Every digital picture I had taken from 2002-2008 was on that corrupted drive, going nowhere.  To say it was discouraging would be an understatement.

Around that same time period, I had an experience that would greatly affect my life.  I had the opportunity to enter the Farmington office of LDS Family Services, the office that serves our area.  Since I had been involved in Families Supporting Adoption and had worked often with the outreach program (teaching the community, particularly within the LDS Church, about adoption and the services offered by LDS Family Services), as well as being a birthparent advocate for them, and since the Farmington office had actually been closed for several years, I hoped to make myself available to them, to do more of the same, if necessary.  Even though I was in the area for a completely different reason, I felt drawn there.  I thought I could help.

Instead, there was a couple in that office serving as church service missionaries who offered to help me.  They asked my story, and immediately told me that they believed it would be possible for me to communicate with my birth daughter's family once again.  This was something I secretly wished for, but I hadn't thought it was even realistic for so long, I had essentially given up on that hope.  Not only did they offer to help me, they promised to contact the woman who worked at LDS Family Services who could coordinate re-establishing communication with my birth daughter's family.  It was a miracle.

But if you have read my story, you know that soon after I was informed by one of the church service missionaries that after talking to Sandy, they understood that the agency did not have current contact information for the family.  Still, they encouraged me to write, promising that the agency would try to find the family and send the letter on.

I let it go.

I did the same thing with the external hard drive.  I tucked it away, hoping that there might be a way to fix it, to retrieve the thousands of photos stored within that useless black box, and that some day I could afford to pursue it.

It was my husband who found a way to retrieve the files from my hard drive, a couple years later, and I was thrilled to be able to load several old pictures onto my computer.  The process wasn't perfect, but at least they were not irretrievably lost.

It was also my husband who contacted LDS Family Services, unbeknownst to me.  He then convinced them  to seek out my birth daughter's family and ask them if they would be willing to re-open our correspondence.  They promised they would do all they could, but since they didn't have current contact information, they asked for his patience.  He persisted and finally his persistence paid off.  Communication would be possible.

Except it wasn't.

Like the external hard drive, the system was corrupted.

Let me tell you the rest of the story.  A few months ago, I attended a Birthmother's Day luncheon with one of my dear friends, my birth daughter's mother.  Several people were in attendance, birthmothers, adoptive families, extended families.  I saw a couple of my friends who are active in advocating for adoption.  One of them contacted me on Facebook soon after that and told me that she thought I (and my birth daughter and her family) would be an excellent candidate to participate in a panel on opening a closed adoption, for the upcoming Families Supporting Adoption Conference.  I definitely had mixed emotions about the whole thing, but finally I decided it could be a positive way for me to share my story.  I committed to do it.

Then I received an email from the facilitator for the panel.  He is a social worker at LDS Family Services and he wanted me to call him about the panel.  The number he left was familiar to me.  It was the Logan office.  Immediately, I got a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach.  It took me all day to get up the courage to call, but I finally did it.

You see, for several months last year I played a vicious game of phone tag with a person at that exact office, calling that exact number.  I would call and ask to talk to her, and she wouldn't be available.  I would leave a message; she would not return my calls.  There were so many negative emotions associated with all the promises she made--and didn't keep.  All the times she said she would do something, and then later told me she forgot.  Seeing that phone number dredged up all those awful emotions.

But I called anyway.

I WISH I HADN'T.

In his soothing social worker/counselor voice, here is this man, thanking me for being willing to participate, but in a round-about way telling me they don't want me.  It was awful.  I wanted to reach into the phone and strangle him.  You see, he told me, it would be best for everyone involved if I didn't share my story.  I never should have been able to contact the family but for "tender mercies," as he put it.  As the time went on in the brief conversation we shared, I came to fully comprehend what he was telling me and at that point, as graciously as I could without screaming my head off, I told him goodbye and hung up.  

Basically, he began by telling me that he couldn't allow me to share, in that setting (the FSA Conference), how LDS Family Services had helped me re-establish contact with my birth daughter's family, because that is against their agency policy.  Essentially, they WILL NOT contact either party, adoptive parents or birthparents, if the adoption occurred during the closed era, because, according to him, they have to follow the policy that was in place then.  It doesn't matter that LDS Family Services promotes open adoptions now.  It doesn't matter that the relinquishment papers that I signed clearly state that "Future legislation may make it possible for children relinquished for adoption to obtain knowledge regarding their birth parents".  You better believe that was a lifeline for me.  I hope you understand regardless of how "closed" the adoption was, I always hoped the family and I could renew the close relationship I believed we shared.

But my point is you must understand how horrified I became as I realized that the whole time I had been communicating with Sandy at LDS Family Services about trying to contact the family, I had been lied to over and over again.  Not once did she tell me, "I am sorry.  I cannot help you.  It is against agency policy."  As a matter of fact, it was people from LDS Family Services (including Sandy) who initially gave me hope.  And the reason I never thought there would be any problem with LDS Family Services contacting the family to let them know there was a letter waiting for them was because, as I understood it, that was how their policy worked in the past.  If a letter was requested, it would be forwarded.

But I see now how this policy could be interpreted differently:

I don't agree with the way they have interpreted the policy.  As a matter of fact, when the family and I initially communicated, there never was a time either party demanded letters of the other.  We just continued to write, and the letters continued to be forwarded.  So, I always just assumed it could continue that way.  Now I understand why they refused to send a letter to them when she was five.  Because that was how they chose to interpret the policy.  Essentially, they made an exception for me the one time.

I was not going to rant.  That is not the point of my post here.  My point is how disappointed I was to discover that I had been misled last year.  Sandy never had any intention of helping me.  She even had promised to add my name to the agency adoption registry, so that if my birth daughter or her family ever registered as well, they could match us up.  It turns out, per my conversation with Mr. Soothing Social Worker, that THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS AN LDS FAMILY SERVICES ADOPTION REGISTRY and never will be.  They were thinking about it but changed their minds.  All along last year, I believed that Sandy was simply incompetent.  It turns out that she and the agency would never have sent that package along, even with the address and everything, without a specific request from the family who until I CONTACTED THEM had no idea whatsoever that the package even existed.  The whole time she was telling me she would look for them; in fact, per agency policy, her hands were tied.  I wish she would have been honest with me.  I wish she would have been honest with the family.  She never told them I wanted to write to them.  They were led to believe I was asking for an update from them, causing them and me all kinds of unnecessary anxiety.

Essentially, even though my blood was boiling about how I had been wronged, as I spoke to the panel facilitator,  I offered to talk about the reunion with the family without including any details about how it occurred.  I still felt like I could contribute something worthwhile to the panel.  It could even be healing for me to focus on the positive things that have happened because of this miraculous experience.  But as the conversation continued, I was told, "Please come to the conference.  Attend the class.  We would love to have you there as an audience member.  Just don't share any details of your story."

It has been several years since I have been told it is not appropriate to share my adoption testimony.  It didn't feel good then and it doesn't feel good now.  And I cannot help but feel that it isn't right.  I am not attending the Families Supporting Adoption Conference this weekend.  There is still a bad taste in my mouth about how that all went down.  And while I would NEVER be one to stand in a setting like that and say "Hey, you need to hear the WHOLE story about how LDS Family Services operates. . ." I will not stay silent about what has happened to me.

I do not agree with the policy LDS Family Services, in Logan, at least--I don't know if it is across the whole agency nationwide--is using now regarding communication between parties involved in closed adoption from years ago.  I believe that the policy followed in the past is open to interpretation, besides the fact that there should be more flexibility regarding changing policies over time.  Families who adopted should have been prepared for the possibility that a birth mother might some day want communication with the family again, especially since we were allowed to correspond briefly in the past.  Birth mothers and fathers should have been prepared for the fact that our children might some day seek us out.  All along, I have believed that LDS Family Services could be our intermediary to facilitate reunion.  I was wrong.  It wasn't one worker's incompetence who stood in my way, or anyone else's way, it is the agency policy currently followed there regarding past closed adoptions.

Just as the external hard drive was supposed to be a means to transfer information from one conduit to another and it failed, the system in place at LDS Family Services is defective.  While it could be a safe, positive way to enable both parties to find each other again, as it stands now, the system is broken.  I intend to write a letter detailing my experiences and my opinions and send it to every LDS Family Services office in the country.  I believe there are ways the agency could reach out to adoptive families and birth families in a non-threatening way to allow them to choose for themselves if they want to reopen communication.  If there is anyone out there who has opinions on this, please share with me.  I need all the help I can get.  I know it is terribly unrealistic that anything will happen to change the way things are done now, but I feel that I have to try.  

It just isn't right.

One last visit

While I was attending the National Families Supporting Adoption Conference in Layton this past summer, I met a 50 year-old woman who had placed her baby girl for adoption through LDS Family Services 30 years earlier.  This birthmother had no information whatsoever on her birth daughter.  She had no way to know what had become of the child she placed for adoption so long ago.  But that doesn't mean she has forgotten about her.  I met another woman, not much older than the birthmother, who proudly told me she is an adoptee and she has been so happy with her life, she has never felt any inclination to seek out any information about her birth parents.

There was a woman there--I believe she was in her 40s but I could be wrong--who told the story of how she sought out her birth parents after becoming a mother herself, in her twenties.  It was mostly for medical reasons, it seemed like she said.  But also, as she watched her own children grow, she felt more of a desire to be able to connect with her biological roots, to be able to understand more about herself, and by extension more about her offspring.

It is a hard thing to ponder, this concept that in giving a child the gift of a loving family, our dream for them, we as birth mothers sometimes get forgotten.  Don't get me wrong.  I have friends who were adopted and they speak with reverence of their unknown birth mothers.  But I also know it would take a tremendous leap of faith for them to be able to make the effort to try to locate, much less contact that woman they revere so dearly.  And that is understandable, too, because I know there are broken women who have been so tortured by the grief and pain and especially the shame of their loss that they actually reject the child they loved enough to let go so long ago.

And there is another aspect of that, too.  I think of my adopted niece and nephew and wonder how it would be to know their birth parents.  Could it be a positive experience?  It is hard to know.  I know their parents love each of those sweet children't birth parents, but there were moments in the adoption process when we nearly lost those sweet babies, and the terror of those moments is hard to forget.

As a birthmother, much of my life has been spent wondering, hoping that the sweet girl I loved was living the blessed life I dreamed of for her.  Of course I lived my own life.  And of course my priority was the family I had in front of me.  I held onto a hope that some day my birth daughter would want to find me, that her family would want to know me again.  But there were times this felt like a flimsy wish.  I don't know statistics, but it seems like it is usually in the late teen years, an adopted youth will start being curious about their birth family.  Sometimes they will pursue this curiosity; sometimes they won't.  Time passes.  They don't want to offend their parents, whom they love.  They have a good life.  Then they start their own families.  The concept of seeking out their birth parents becomes more undefined, harder to attain, not worth the effort.  The fear of rejection is real and often with nothing to go on, the idea fades into unimportance.  I have even heard of cases where a person said if she (the birthmother) wanted to know me, she could find me.  Which is almost always absolutely untrue.  We are powerless.  We take what we can get.  Unfortunately, sometimes that is nothing.  Nothing but the faith and assurance that what we chose was right for our child.

I don't know why, but 18 was the magic number I held out for all these years.  I secretly hoped that once she turned 18, it would be time for us all to get re-acquainted.  I must not be the only birthmother who had secret fantasies about what this number would mean, the magical date.  I have seen it in other bloggers' posts and in talking to other birthmothers.  In fact, I have a friend who believed in this number, also.  This friend was able to locate her birth daughter's family through a third party entity that communicates with Vital Statistics.  Over the past several months, my friend has wrestled with the question of whether or not she should try to contact her birth daughter (after failing to get any response from the parents).  From my previous post, you understand, this is not an easy thing.  Recently, my friend became acquainted with a girl who had been friends with her birth daughter.  Through this girl's friendship, she was able to view pictures of the girl she placed for adoption so many years ago, learn about her personality, her mannerisms.  Unfortunately, she also learned that her birth daughter had not been told that she was adopted.  I pray that some day, some how, this dear friend's reunion with her birth daughter will still be possible.  My reunion with Abbey was such a gift and a treasure, I want my sweet friend to be able to experience that joy as well. 

Wednesday was the last day of our visit with Abbey's family.  On Thursday, we intended to do a bit of shopping and then head home.  Since I had some extra time while Britt looked for shoes and some other things, I spent some time putting together a book for Abbey with pictures from our visit.  I also printed several pictures from the time we had all spent together to give to her family.  While we went to lunch that afternoon, I texted Abbey to see if she could meet me, so I could give her the book and pictures.  While we were eating, we decided it would be fun to go see another movie while we were there, so I texted Abbey to see if she wanted to join us.  She did!  You can't exactly visit during a movie obviously, but it was so nice to spend some time with her again, especially since we thought our visit had ended the day before.  The following two pictures are my girls riding on a train in the mall after the movie.  They loved it!

We then said our goodbyes to Abbey and piled into the van.  We were headed for home, but first we needed to stop and get some things we had left at Tim and Nancy's home, where we had been staying.  Right before we got to Tim and Nancy's, I received a text from Abbey.  She and her friend were meeting each other for dinner and did we want to join them?  Her friend would love to meet me.  We had talked about the possibility earlier, but it just hadn't looked like it would work out.

Since it was already fairly late and we would have to eat anyway, we headed back up to Orem to Malawi's Pizza at the Riverwoods.  The food was tasty.  The company was so fun!  It was so nice to get to visit with Abbey one last time!

Family is such a blessing.

Just the two of us

Nineteen years ago, I was living in an apartment in Logan with some crazy roommates.  I was five months pregnant.  I had just recently traveled home to Blanding for a brief visit.  A brief visit I can still remember so vividly.  I was in the kitchen in my parents' house, and I was sitting on the floor next to the coat closet, the coat closet with those rickety dark brown shuttered folding doors.  I remember wishing somehow I could just fold into those doors myself.  I was so small and so ashamed.  I was surrounded by family, standing around me, confused, concerned looks on their faces.

That was when I told them I was going to have a baby.  They were not angry.  I knew they would not be.  But the hurt and disappointment was tangible.   My family was broken.  I broke it.  I knew it to my core.  And then I told them my plans.  My adoption plans.  That is when my sister Kd became hysterical.  And I knew my mother wanted to hold me close and fix whatever needed fixing, but I was distant, disappearing into those closet doors.

I don't remember where my father was.  I am sure he was there, but I cannot clearly recall his reaction.  Like me, he probably just wanted to disappear, to escape this whole bizarre tragedy.

But he loved me and supported me.  My whole family promised they would help me no matter what.  But they had to let me go and deal with the consequences of my decision as I had chosen to, as the Spirit was guiding me to.  That must have been hard for them.

As I worked with LDS Social Services, attending group meetings with other birth mothers, and counseling sessions with my counselor, I felt a profound peace in my decision.  As I proceeded with my day-to-day life, there were struggles, but I knew I was doing the right thing.  I came to find out that I would have the opportunity to meet the family I had chosen for my daughter--I didn't even officially know she was a girl then, but I believed she was.  The first ultrasound technician I went to was pretty rude; I think she assumed since I was giving the baby up, I didn't care whether it was a boy or girl.  She didn't offer to check, and I didn't know to ask.  

Another girl in the office was expecting around the same time as me, but she did not want to meet her baby's family, or have anything to do with the baby for that matter.  I didn't really know her story; she did not participate much in the group meetings.  I knew she was living with a foster family while she was pregnant, and she had moved from Hurricane.  She was younger than me, and she seemed very bitter about her circumstances, but she never opened up enough for me to know anything more.

Anyway, because she was choosing not to utilize the "Face-to-Face" option, I would be the first birthmother from the Logan agency to get to meet her child's adoptive family.  That was exciting, and it was overwhelming.  Policies were rapidly changing with the agency.  They were allowing more communication than had been offered in the past, but they were also limiting the amount of gift giving, because that aspect of communication was difficult for them logistically to manage.  As these policies were changing on an ongoing basis, I was notified of the agency's current communication policy:  I would be able to receive pictures for the first six months.  We could correspond through letters with no identifying information allowed for one year.  After that, correspondence could continue as long as both parties were willing, but letters would not be forwarded without being requested.

It was kind of awkward wording.  I see that now.  But I interpreted the policy to mean that we would not be limited to one year of communication.  I believed that as long as we were both open to it (and why wouldn't we be?!) we could continue to communicate indefinitely.

But of course, after meeting her family, writing to them regularly for a year, and then occasionally the following year, correspondence waned over time.  We had not communicated for a few years, but I wanted them to know about being sealed to my sweet husband, giving birth to my first son and expecting a second.  I wanted them to know I was doing well.  I wanted to know what their little girl was up to, and how they, my dear friends were doing, as well.  I did not expect to be treated so rudely by the person I telephoned at LDS Social Services, when I called to say I had a letter I wanted to send.  I did not understand, but I did not want to fight either.  I was lucky that I had someone here willing to fight for me, and I was able to send that letter.  Several months later, I received a reply.  That was the last time I heard from them for 13 years!

A little bit less than a year ago, my husband emailed me with a hint that he had some news for me.  Then, when he was home from his trip, he took me for a walk and told me he had been communicating with the director of the Logan LDS Family Services, and they had found my birth daughter's family.  After all this time, I could communicate with them again!

It was thrilling and terrifying.

This is hard to explain, but another birth mom friend of mine shared an essay her brother wrote describing the phenomenon she was experiencing (the same way I was feeling):

"After years of searching and practically giving up she recently found the family's information with the help of friends.  All of the sudden she could see pictures of her son as well as the person he is becoming. . . . That is great and exciting news for her.  However, because the adoption did not begin open, Tamra now faces fear, worry, and a difficult decision.  She is still building the courage to contact the family.  It could be exactly what [her birth son] needs at this time.  He can have questions answered and have love reassured.  'But I don't know,' Tamra said, 'I'm a stranger to him and it might very well be disruptive.'  Now, if he doesn't respond positively, she has something to lose.  'Now I am incredibly vulnerable and EVERYTHING is a mystery.'  She feels that if the adoption had been open from the start, there would be nothing to fear."

I wrote the letter, after a long struggle to figure out the right things to say.  As the year went on, right up until close to the end of the year, I experienced a roller coaster of emotions, up and down, sideways, up-side down--by the way, I HATE roller coasters; I am not a fan of sick thrills--as I came to discover there was not an opportunity for contact after all.  I will not rehash all that.  I have gone over it enough here on my blog.  You know it.  It was a disaster.  I was a mess.  It was an unfortunate time in my life, and I am just glad that uncertainty and pain is over.

On the Wednesday of our week with Abbey, I got to spend several hours alone with Abbey, shopping at the University Mall, just talking and hanging out.  Abbey's mom took my girls with her for the day, and Britt and the boys went with her dad to Cabela's.

Wait a minute, did I say ALONE with Abbey?  Actually, my dad was passing through on his way to Salt Lake, and he met us in the food court so he could see Abbey.

The rest of my extended family is so jealous.

Abbey helped me find some cute new clothes, and we even found matching shirts and necklaces.  I would have liked to have found a portrait place where we could have gotten pictures in our matching outfits, but by then, Britt was calling me, wondering when we were going to come back.

We took pictures at her house instead. 

My girls loved getting to spend some time with their "big sister".  They keep asking me when they can Skype with Abbey again.  

I am glad there never was any secrecy in our family about the fact that I placed a daughter for adoption years ago, before Britt and I started our family.  I am grateful my children have always known about her, even though they did not fully understand when they were younger.  I am happy this could be a positive thing for all of us, not something I had to hide from those I cared about.  While I wish there had not been the barrier of those years of lost communication between us, I cannot change that.  I would, however, suggest that if you are considering adoption, you open yourself to the possibility of accepting open adoption.  Now that we are together again, it is, as Abbey's father put it, an extension of family.  We love expanding that love we have.  I am so grateful for Abbey's family and the love they have for me.

Oh, and did you notice?  I am wearing boots and she is taller than me.  It is my dream that all of my kids will one day be taller than me. : )

Backtrack: Ice Skating with Abbey

When I was first contacted by my birth daughter, my girls were so excited.  We had to look at every picture we could find of her on Facebook.  One day we discovered a video of Abbey ice skating, and after that, my girls constantly would ask me when they could go ice skating with Abbey.  We soon learned that Abbey had taken skating lessons for years and had participated in several ice skating competitions.  When we made our plans to meet, that week after Christmas, we didn't have any specifics in mind except that we all really wanted to go ice skating with Abbey.  So, Tuesday night, we met Abbey and her family at the Peaks Ice Skating Arena.  Abbey was already doing spins and having fun on the ice when we got there.

 The girls can't wait

Abbey's dad watched and took some pictures for us 

Abbey spins 

Rachel  ??? 

I know it is blurry, but you can tell he is having fun 

Rachel and Olivia were pretty clingy at first.  They wanted to use one of these walker-type things to help them skate.  When one became available, I was thrilled to let them play with it, because they were wearing me out.

Did you notice how bundled up they were at the beginning?  And now they were just wearing their shirts.  We were all moving so much, we definitely were not cold. 

This is the proper way to use the skate assist thing. 

 Cole was on the go most of the time.  I was lucky to even get a picture.

 There is Abbey again (and the top of someone's head; oops).

The girls were loving it.  Even though we hadn't eaten anything yet when we met Abbey's family at the  arena, and we were there until after 8:00, they did not want to leave. 

Rachel describes Abbey's spin moves. 

And look at that!  I finally got a picture of Garrett.  He was even more on-the-go than Cole.  He was having a great time skating, but he was definitely ready to get something to eat when we finally got out of there.

One last shot.  Go, Olivia!

After the rink, we all headed to the Brick Oven for pizza and pasta.  Rachel and Olivia even got to ride over there with Abbey's family.  We were all pretty worn out, and Olivia fell asleep in her chair, but we had a wonderful time visiting, talking about things we love to do, sharing common interests, discussing our plans for the next day.  It was just like reconnecting with family members we hadn't seen in years.  That day really was such a wonderful part of our reunion.

In the Lord's Time

This past year has been an emotional roller coaster ride.  Life can be that way sometimes, but this year it was particularly true.  This year, there were some breakthrough moments that brought my adoption experience into the forefront of almost all my conscious thought.  I will admit I became obsessive about what I did not have, hopes that were crushed.  I found myself questioning how the grief I was experiencing could possibly be the Lord's will for me.

Here is a brief history of the year's events:

In March, my husband orchestrated an opportunity for me to once again correspond with my birth daughter's parents and possibly even meet.  He had been pursuing it for months with LDS Family Services, and finally contact was made!  I spent an agonizing two months writing letters to her family and to her.  My girls even made cards.  We were all so excited for this new chapter in our lives.

In June (my birth daughter's birth month), my family went to Mexico with some friends.  Her 18th birthday was the last day of our trip.  We still hadn't heard anything from LDS Family Services.  In the middle of the trip, my husband called Logan.  He was told the letters never were sent.  They didn't have an address and had lost the number they used to contact the family.  I was devastated.

I spent months feeling frustrated, powerless.  I was angry that I had written those letters, only to have them go nowhere.  And my poor husband couldn't help but wonder if it would have all been better if he had just left well enough alone.

I attended the Families Supporting Adoption National Conference in August.  At an informal event the night before, I was able to meet other women who have had similar experiences, since their adoptions occurred in the closed adoption era.  We shared our testimonies of adoption and how our choice has blessed us.  We also expressed our frustrations about ways we have been mistreated.  We were all talking a mile a minute; it is so nice to be able to discuss the emotions of being a birthmother with others who know.  That was a cathartic experience.

That same month, as I was posting about my experiences at the conference, I came to the conclusion that I needed to let go.  The power to make something happen with LDS Family Services and the family was out of my hands.  I felt like it was an unhealthy obsession, and I needed to find a way to move past it.

But that was easier said than done.

In October, I wrote this post.  Shortly after that, I received an email from someone who used to go to high school with me.  He had been reading my blog and decided to try an internet search with some of the information I had posted.  He thought he may have found something.  Did I want to see it?

Um, okay.  Did I dare hope?

And then I followed the links he provided.  And then I did a few internet searches of my own.  There they were!  It was a miracle!  In my excitement, I tried to contact one of the parents on the internet.  I asked them to request the letters waiting for them at LDS Family Services in Logan.  I hoped they would respond, but they didn't.  I called LDS Family Services with the information I had found and asked them to please call and let the family know my letters were waiting there.

Nothing happened.  Weeks passed.

I sank into a deep depression.  Talk about unhealthy.  Those who were closest to me encouraged me to try to be optimistic.  To give them, the family and LDS Family Services the benefit of the doubt.  But I will admit to you, I really didn't.  I was angry, even a little bitter, altogether unhappy.  Why didn't they care about me? was a question I asked over and over.  I now know that attitude was wrong.

I know I should have relied on the Lord more during that time of grief.  I should have been more patient.  I should have held on to hope.  I already knew He loved me.  My life has been blessed in countless ways.  If I could have just stepped away from that time of railing against the world, crying about the unfairness of it all, I could have found the peace I sought.

In the October session of General Conference this year, Elder Robert D. Hales gave a talk entitled "Waiting upon the Lord:   Thy Will Be Done."  It is worth reviewing, if you haven't read it yet.  A couple gems from the talk:


Tests and trials are given to all of us.  These mortal challenges allow us and our Heavenly Father to see whether we will exercise our agency to follow His Son.  He already knows us, and we have the opportunity to learn, that no matter how difficult our circumstances, "all these things shall [be for our] experience, and [our] good." (Doctrine and Covenants 122:7)


Every one of us is more beloved to the Lord than we can possibly understand or imagine.  Let us therefore be kinder to one another and kinder toward ourselves.  Let us remember that as we wait upon the Lord, we are becoming "saint[s] through [His] atonement, . . . submissive, meek, humble, patient, full of love, willing to submit to all things which the Lord seeth fit to inflict upon [us], even as a child doth submit to his father."  (Mosiah 3:19)


So, I didn't like the way I was feeling.  I was not submissive, meek, humble--any of that.  I was frustrated.  I was hurt and angry.  I didn't like being like that.  I decided it really was time to let it go.  I called the agency and asked her to send my letters back to me.  It was time to close that door.

A few days later, I received a phone call.  Actually, my phone received the call.  I didn't answer in time, and it went to my voice mail.  It was Sandy at LDS Family Services.  She had just gotten off the phone with my birth daughter's mother.  They wanted to send me pictures.  Sandy had given her my email address as well.  It was good news!  I was in the middle of cub scouts when I listened to the voice mail.  It was one of those moments you just need to stop and break down and cry (that was what I had done when I received the email from my friend.  It was such a miracle!), but obviously I couldn't in the middle of cub scouts.

I went home and immediately made contact with the parents.  We began corresponding on the computer, sending messages at least once a day.  They were excited to know me!  It was exactly the opposite of what I had been fearing.  They had no idea that LDS Family Services didn't have their contact information.  Why wouldn't they?  The family had never moved!  They also had not known that I had written to them.  When they had first heard from Sandy, she gave them the impression I was requesting an update.  They were in the middle of trying to get their daughter graduated from high school, besides working and writing full time, so they were overwhelmed at trying to put something together for me.

Basically, there were a few misunderstandings, but nothing malicious or neglectful.  Their family has thinking of me often this past year, without even being aware of the turmoil I was going through.  As I said before, it is unfortunate that I misinterpreted the circumstances.  Remember those beautiful letters I posted written by those good people?  Oh, what an amazing blessing it is to be able to resume that friendship!  What a gift!

Recently, I have been able to communicate with my beautiful birth daughter, as well.  She initiated contact.  It was one of the best days of my life, to be sought out by her!  Some of you may know I was anxious to know whether or not she had ever received the Book of Mormon I sent through the agency, with my testimony in it.  Well, her parents gave it to her fairly recently and she has loved reading it, along with the letters I wrote years ago, as well as the ones I just sent.  We are having so much fun getting to know each other, finding similarities, sharing a lifetime of love.

And yes, we are going to meet!

You know it has been hard for me not to say anything to you here, but I kind of wanted to lead up to it, you know.  That Grand Finale I was talking about.  These past few weeks have been such an amazing gift.  My Heavenly Father does know me, just as Elder Hales said.  He knows each of us.  Blessings come, understanding comes, as we wait on the Lord.

Thank you, again, for all who offered prayers in my behalf.  They have been heard.  They are felt!

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.

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!

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)

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.