She Inspires Me: (Long Overdue) My Mom

Okay, I have a ton of pictures of this lady at home on my computer, but since I am at work, I am going to go ahead and type this up without any pictures. Maybe I will edit it later and add some pictures when (if) I have time.

This post has been marinating in my head for months. It started probably around Mother's Day. What kept me from posting then? Well, I don't know if you have noticed, but I tend to avoid following specific patterns for blogging. Even though I have created this ongoing inspirational women feature, don't expect me to do it at a specific time, like a Friday Feature or a Wordless Wednesday. Wordless Wednesday, really? Don't we blog so we can go on and on about our lives? Isn't a journal for writing lots of words? And seriously folks, a picture may be worth a thousand words, but it cannot speak for you. (Brooke may disagree with me there. I know she has tons of pictures that speak volumes on their own).

So, obviously no Mother's Day Tribute.

Did you know her birthday is in June? Perfect time to write about the beauty of the wonderful lady who gave me life. The woman who has sacrificed so much for my happiness. The woman who now celebrates her birthday with a touch of sadness for the loss of what would have been her first grandchild, born one day before her birthday 16 years ago. So much I owe her, so much I wanted to say about that.

And then this year she got one of the worst birthday presents ever. I am so sorry that I had to be the one to give her the awful news, but I am also grateful that it was me and not someone else who could not truly understand her pain. Four of my mother's six kids were brought into the world by a doctor who was good friends with my parents. He was the doctor my mother trusted, all these years, living in this small town so far away from family and friends. No matter what stresses were going on in my mother's life, what health issues were affecting her, Dr. Redd was always a comforting part of her life.

Needless to say, that tribute to my beloved mother did not happen in June.

And my blog has been somewhat neglected this past couple months. We have led a wonderfully busy life, but when I blog, it tends to be just trying to update you on the fun things we have done. And I know you would rather hear about our trip to Lake Powell a couple days after the fact, instead of a month later. I apologize. Still, at the end of every one of those catch up posts, I think, soon. Soon I will write about her.

Then I think how can I possibly cover it all? How can I truly recognize all that Gail Glover is to me? I know I won't do it justice, but here, while I have a minute, here is a bit about why my Mother Inspires Me.

I will start with the fact that she loves my dad. Unconditionally. Completely. I mean, she must. A city girl who was close to her family married him and moved thousands of miles from home to the middle of nowhere. I am not just talking Blanding, which is where they settled, but literally the middle of nowhere on the Navajo Indian Reservation. And then let's go back to Blanding. How many years have they lived her now? Thirty-something, and my mom is still a city girl at heart, and still loves her family, but Blanding is where she and my dad have stayed. As her daughter and now as a mother to my own children, I am grateful for this choice she made. To make the best of where she was put. I am glad to be able to raise my kids in Blanding, near their wonderful grandmother.

And when I say she made the best of it, I really believe that to be true. She served the community in many voluntary capacities, including PTA President and Relief Society President, while she had small babies and children (six of us!) and no family babysitters (I know how spoiled I am). She also served on the school board, and was always trying to make a difference where she could.

Then when I was in junior high, my mom went back to work. Let me just say, I know now how lucky we were to have our mom at home while we were growing up. How spoiled we were being able to call anytime and say, "I forgot my homework," or "I just fell on my face off the monkey bars and they think I broke my nose." And there she always was, ready to rescue us, or help us face the consequences of our mistakes. Spoiled as well in the full-spread breakfasts she laid out for us every morning (I really thought cereal was a treat). And then there were the full-course meals that included many options for her six finicky (I have no idea how to spell that) eaters. I remember Italian Place steak sandwiches, egg rolls, with homemade fortune cookies, baklava.

Well, things changed with my dad's position at UNDC, and my mom found it necessary to use her skills to help provide for the family. She even returned to BYU for two summers to complete a Master's Degree. Those summers were some of my fondest memories. I have a feeling, like my mother, I am a city girl at heart. But I can be happy wherever my man is. I realize now it wasn't easy for her, being away from her husband during those months, taking care of six still young teenagers and tweens, while attending classes and trying to study. But she has always been a life-long learner, always trying to improve herself. And she succeeded in her goals then and many others.

In time, she became the Dean of Administrative and Student Services at the College of Eastern Utah, where she began this working career. For many years, she worked alongside Kay Shumway, the other Dean at the college. They made a good pair, working together to do what they could to keep college operations running smoothly. It's never easy being a woman in what is still a man's world, which is true of most working environments even today. I remember studying about that (gender issues) in college, because it had been one of my mother's areas of expertise in one of her previous positions at the college. I remember thinking my professor blew the whole inequality thing way out of proportion, but I have seen since how true it can be.

One of my mother's dear friends whose acquaintance she made while working for the college was Grace Jones, an African American woman who had been selected as the president of CEU. This woman met a lot of resistance from the college community, in Price as well as in Blanding in her role as a leader. Those rose-colored glasses I had been wearing, trying to convince myself that gender inequality was not an issue in the world anymore, they started to crack. A few years later, I realized the glass had fallen out entirely as I watched my own mother's struggle with different issues at the college that related directly to her leadership role, and others' perception of it.

I won't go into details. I don't know all the details. I do know my mother served the college for 25 years, and now that the time has come for her to retire (truthfully, in many ways, it is earlier than she would have liked), she is not getting any real recognition for the work she did there. Compared to what was given to others who also recently chose retirement, I cannot help but be offended on my mother's behalf. I am afraid (though I do not know), my mother has been misrepresented to many in regards to the way she did her job. All I know is my mother has loved the college from the moment she was first associated with it. She has wanted the best for the college, always. For years, she never took any leave time. She just accrued more and more, but she never used it. It was like the college was her baby and she couldn't stand to leave it.

She was personally invested in the people who worked there. She cared about them, worried about them, did all she could to support them. She cared about the students. She did all she could in her role to help them succeed. I have witnessed this firsthand on many occasions. If my mother was guilty of anything, it was that she was too invested in her job. When something didn't work right, she took it personally. I think, even though she is completely helpless now, she still does.

I like to believe my mother has made a difference in people's lives in the work that she did at the college all those years. I hope one day I can have as much influence as she has had. And I pray that she will know, as my brother Worthy has said, that to those that truly matter (her family), she has made all the difference in the world. And for that, I thank her.

I love you more than I can say, Mom. You are amazing!

Just so you know, we (her family) are throwing a retirement party for my mom at the Edge of the Cedars State Park and Museum on Friday, September 18, from 7-9 p.m. A blogsite has been set up so people can leave a word of congratulations and encouragement. Go here to check it out, and be sure to check out the article I wrote about it which should be in this weeks Panorama and the San Juan Record. My mom is awesome!

About friendship and some ancient history

Last week's Relief Society lesson came from The Teachings of the Prophet Joseph Smith. A good, simple lesson, one of those that made it so that you couldn't help but love the Prophet Joseph even more. And this quote he said, I latched right on to:

"I don't care what a man's character is; if he's my friend--a true friend, I will be a friend to him, and preach the Gospel of salvation to him, and give him good counsel, helping him out of his difficulties."

--Joseph Smith

And it got me to thinking, am I true friend? Have I been a good friend to those I really, truly care about? And I know the answer is no. I know there is so much more I could do, I should do. I know since I have gotten caught up in my own little life, I have closed myself off too much from the people who could benefit from my friendship. And I believe my life could be enriched through strengthening friendships.

The lesson came kind of at an interesting time for me. I had recently re-established some old connections with friends on facebook. I was also starting to develop some friends through adoption connections. And one of the conversations I recently had with a friend made me think about the kind of friend I once was, and the kind of friend I would like to be.

Now, I am one of those people who always believes the best of nearly everyone. I can be very forgiving, and I am always hoping that those who struggle to make correct decisions will some day be able to recognize the good person that I see inside them. There was a time in my life when I was very much attracted to these "lost causes", not that I was doing much in the way of trying to save them.

***I must apologize here. I started this post a couple days ago, and never quite figured out where I was going with it, so I just left it. Let's see if I can salvage it and come up with something reasonable to say***

This brings me back to a time, some 16 years ago. I had a friend who had come to me with sort of an apology for the way he had treated me a few years before. I need to be clear, it was nothing bad. I think he was working the 12 step program and felt he needed to make some kind of restitution with me. And then, not much later, I felt the need to reconcile with someone else, a guy I myself had wronged.

I hadn't heard from him in something like 9 months. He had been my boyfriend for a few months a year before. I used to visit him often at his home in Salt Lake. And he came to visit me once in Blanding. But when I told him I was pregnant, he disappeared from my life. He just quit calling. I later found on this was due to some deception on my little brother's part. It turns out the guy had called, but my brother told him I had moved, and he never told me that he had called. It wasn't meant to be, and I know if it had been that important to me, I could have sought him out.

Now, that was what I was doing. I was aware that he had moved, because I hadn't been able to reach him at his old place. I traveled to Salt Lake and went into a store where I knew he had once worked. I asked his old boss if she knew how I could reach him. She was hesitant to tell me. Then I pulled out the locket that the adoptive family had given me as a gift. Inside was a picture of me in the hospital, holding our baby girl one last time before I signed the papers relinquishing my rights to parent her, placing her for adoption. Immediately, the woman gave me the information I needed. There was no phone number, but an address where I could find him.

He was living with another girl. Honestly, that is what he offered me when I told him I was pregnant. But I knew I would never settle for that. And he had misunderstood when I told him no. Later, as we visited, he told me that he thought when I refused to move in with him that meant I believed the baby was someone else's. I was okay with where my decisions leading up to the placement had taken me in my life, and so I felt no regret over this lost relationship. But I did feel badly that there had been some deception, on my part. I felt I owed him some information (although it was very late) about what had happened to his child. I showed him pictures, and explained how I had chosen a family for her, with a big brother and two caring, financially secure parents.

He was devastated, or so he said. Even when I was with him, I knew this guy was a player. He was always flattering me, and playing to my weaknesses. I knew he was full of sh--, even when I had been with him, but I ate up the attention, even as false as it felt. I don't mean to judge him, which I realize it sounds now like I am. I just realized as I was meeting with him again, after so many months, that we were not compatible. It was a time of closure for me.

But he told me his girlfriend he was living with had just recently miscarried their baby after carrying it about 5 months. So this news from me was a double blow. He was really feeling the loss. Then, as his girlfriend went to pay the check for the lunch we had just eaten together, he asked me if we couldn't get back together. Like I said, I was in a good place, and I knew I did not belong with this guy. Not to mention, how faithful can you expect a guy to be when he is asking you out behind his girlfriend's back. I tried to be gentle, but I was honest with him. It wasn't going to happen, but I still wanted to be friends.

I remember he called me a couple weeks later, and wanted to see me. I was coming up to the area anyway, so I agreed. I felt like I owed it to him, to have some kind of relationship, since I had practically given his child away without even asking his input in the matter. I remember visiting in a car, near a movie theatre in the vicinity of the neighborhood where he was currently living. He said he had broken up with his girlfriend. He asked me to kiss him. I told him no. Honestly, his girlfriend was probably back at their apartment. It was all a little suspicious. But it wasn't that stopping me. I just knew I couldn't go there again.

Then he told me I had always been kind of uppity like that. Like I was so much better than him because I was a Mormon, and also I had more money than him. Well, when I was with him, I hadn't realized there was any kind of disparity in our lifestyles. I knew he wasn't LDS, but it obviously didn't stop me being attracted to him. I never realized I had acted like I was better than him. Although I do remember teasing him for the way he pronounced some things. He was from Texas (I think), and some of the things he said were a little different. I am such a grammar snob; I probably was even worse back then.

I remember this set me back a little. I just hate thinking I may have offended someone, or been rude or anything like that. I felt really badly that I had made him feel that way. I always try to be accepting of people, no matter what their lifestyle choices may be. I never meant to be uppity.

When I think about it today, though, I think it is something I still need to work on. I don't mean to exclude people who are not in my same circle of friends, religion, neighborhood, whatever. But I think sometimes I may offend, just because I like to stay in my little comfort zone. You know, how the missionaries come over for dinner and then ask who you know who might be interested in learning the Gospel, and you realize you only ever spend time with the people that you see at Church all the time. I could do better.

I have to postscript the story of Cossette's baby daddy, though. I told him about LDS Social Services, which was the agency I had placed Cossette through. I gave him some paperwork to fill out, so that her parents could know more about her biology. Then, when I asked my counselor if he had received the paperwork, he told me for confidentiality reasons, he couldn't tell me much. He did tell me that the guy had contacted the agency, but he said the name I had given them for him wasn't really his name. His real name was completely different from the name I knew him by. All this time I had known him, "known" him, you know, and I didn't even know him. So, maybe I shouldn't feel so bad for being a snob to him. Maybe when he said that it was just another way of him trying to manipulate me. Boy am I glad those days are over!

Now, as I look back, another thought has occured to me. It seems like her sealing to her family came a little later than expected. I watch my blogging friend going through a court battle with her adopted son's birthfather, and a horrifying realization comes to me. Did he fight the adoption back then? I don't honestly know. Seriously, if the agency withheld information like that from me, after making that sacrifice as a birthmother, I would be so angry. Hmm, I may never know. It's okay. At least I know she is where she belongs. And I am in a good place now. Just trying to be a better friend. All is right in the world.

A weekend journey

Come with me on a journey up to Layton, to the Davis Conference Center, to the Families Supporting Adoption National Conference. This was a journey where I learned so much. I learned more about myself, my anxieties and my strenghts. I learned from others involved in the adoption process, and I discovered ways I can advocate for adoption, and where I stand on adoption reform.

My journey began Thursday evening, as I waited (and waited, and waited) for my husband to return from Provo/Moab/Monticello--a busy work day for him that had started after he drove up the evening before to sell the truck and purchase a new (used) car. We are in the process now of trying to simplify our lives, and provide some relief to our stressed out bank statements. He finally made it home about 5:30, and I finally left the house around 6:00 after I decided I would spare the mileage on our leased van, which is about to be turned back in. Instead, I would take the unlicensed little Honda Civic, which doesn't even have old plates on it.

What I learned from that drive? You notice absolutely every cop on the road when you are doing something you know you shouldn't be. Britt even called to check if it would be a problem for me to drive it, and the word was I would probably be better off if I did not get pulled over. I carried with me the bill of sale, so I could explain my story if needs be. But let me tell you, that was nerve-wracking to say the least. Nerve-wracking also to be tailed closely at night, between Green River and Price, wondering why the heck the guy didn't just pass me. Only to have him follow me into Walker's in Wellington. Traveling alone never freaked me out when I was single. I guess I know too much now. (Or I was just really tired and paranoid).

Friday morning, as I walked into the conference late and alone, I realized that I really wished I had made arrangements to meet with some of my friends from online adoption sites, so I would at least have someone to attend classes with. I was feeling shy and anxious. Worried a little that I was going to be stirring up old feelings that I had forgotten. Here I learned fear is a normal emotion, but it must be faced and is usually easily conquered. I tend to like to stay in the comfort of my home, to not expose myself too much to the unknown, to not take on too many responsibilities where I have the opportunity to fail. I see it is okay to acknowledge my anxiety, but I must not let it hold me back.

And as the day went on, I met dear friends. I ate lunch with some sweet ladies with whom I have only ever communicated in the virtual world. While I tend to be shy both online and in the real world, I realize I do crave that interaction with people who are passionate about the same things as me, people who have either had similar experiences as me, or who have witnessed those experiences with love and compassion. I am so glad I went.
Moving on, I traveled to the nearby mall and began shopping for school clothes for my kids. There I had an experience where I came to realize that my husband loves me and wants what is best for me, although he doesn't always realize how to give it to me (yeah, I know this. Just another reminder). I need to do a better job of communicating what I need. This was an example. I hadn't gotten up early enough to arrive in Layton in time for the first class, but I attended every other event that day, with the exception of the Awards Banquet in the evening. When I called Britt to ask him for some advice on the school clothes shopping I was doing, he reminded me that the reason I was up there was to shop for the kids' school clothes, and the conference was secondary. Um, no. I really needed to be there--at the conference--more than I had even known, and getting the kids some clothes for school while I was up there was just a bonus.


While I was there, I discovered mrs. r is just as beautiful in real life. And so generous. She was physically sick the first day of the conference, but she was still willing to take a minute to visit with me and some other ladies who knew her through the Adoption Voices site. (And hey, if you haven't checked that out yet, you should.) And for as busy as she is, she clearly does so much with adoption advocacy, not just online. She is an inspiration. She was still very concerned about my story, and eager to hear how everything goes with my pursuit to communicate with the family. Meeting her, attending a couple of her classes, just helped to remind me I need to do more. I CAN do more to spread the love for adoption.

This next part of my journey is where I wanted to include a picture of my sweet friend Angie Wager, who I recently found again through facebook. While I was up there, I sent her a message on facebook, saying I would love to meet up with her if she had time, while I was up there. She sent me back a message with her phone number, and I was able to arrange a time to meet. We ended up going out to dinner at the Chili's restaurant by the SouthTowne Mall, where I had been doing more shopping. What a treat that was! Angie still has that beautiful, contageous, thrilling energy. You just can't help but be happy being around her. How I have missed that! This part of my journey made me realize, I need to get out more often. I need to strengthen those relationships, those friendships with people who feed my soul. Oh, Angie, thank you so much for going out of your way to be there for me! (And sorry readers, the picture is just for her and me to share. Her blog is private, and she is single, so she would prefer not to be too exposed on the web.)

There is something else I learned that night at Chili's. For the last couple days I have been trying to figure out how to explain what this experience means in a sensible, non-offensive way. Maybe I read more into it than what it was, but I still feel like there was something for me to learn in what happened. Maybe that is the point more than anything.

I know my Heavenly Father knows me personally and loves me absolutely. I know this. Part of why I know this is because of where I am in my life today. Who I am. How I am. There was a time I didn't know if I could be the kind of person I am today, to be worthy of the blessings I receive daily. I was afraid because of my addictive personality and an addiction that, before my sweet husband, prevented me from having a stable, loving relationship.

You know I just said I don't get out much. So this experience was kind of unique for me. (This is the part where I am reading way too much into this, but bear with me). The waiter in Chili's was flirting with me pretty hard core. Angie was a little embarrassed for me. She said, "You know, it's not me he's flirting with." And I said, "Hush!" because he was standing right behind her at the time. And all the while I was thinking, surely he can see that honking wedding ring on my finger. Maybe he just wanted a good tip. He was laying it on pretty thick, though. Even asking where Blanding was and saying he wanted to go down to that area some day.

But Angie was watching out for me a little, I think, when she offered to pay the full tab. I don't think she wanted the guy to have my name (from my credit card). And she walked me back to my car and watched me drive away. She knew me when. Yeah, I was a little crazy in my college days. For my parents' sake, I won't go into too much description, but you all know a little bit about my adoption experience, so you have some hint of that. Let's just say, if a guy came on to me, and I was even the slightest bit attracted to him, I went for it. I ate up the attention, and I didn't have a lot of common sense when it came to that. Even when I had a boyfriend. Even when I didn't even know the guy. Now, I can see that was crazy, but back then I just couldn't help myself.

And I know, I know sometimes happily married woman are so happy to get that extra attention, they screw up. They make mistakes, huge mistakes because they might feel like they have fallen out of love, or are so attracted to someone and think they won't ever get caught. That woman could have been me.

But this is the part where Heavenly Father knowing and loving me comes in. That was never something I even considered. I didn't flirt back. I didn't covertly share personal information or do anything to pursue this guy. And when I say he was coming on strong, I am not making this up. Maybe he considers married women a more challenging conquest. My point is, this was never even an issue for me. Not at all. And there was a day, some 15 years ago when I couldn't imagine it not being an issue. I really did not know how to behave myself. And as much as I loved the Gospel, my addiction was more compelling than my religion. I feel so blessed to be able to say that is absolutely not true today.

Because I read my scriptures. I attend church and the temple. I serve in my church callings. I celebrate the Gospel in my life. I love my family. I live worthily to be subject to the Spirit. I know I need to do better on my personal prayers. And I need to do more in family, especially with Family Home Evening. But I am headed in the right direction. And that matters. It matters a lot.

I do hope that made some kind of sense. I love where I am so much. The family that I have. The beautiful man who married me and changed my life forever. And man is that they might have joy. And I do. I do.

Good News, Bad News

Yesterday, while I was working at my new job at Britt's office, I received a phone call from someone at LDS Family Services in Farmington, New Mexico. My kids who were home either took the call and didn't take a message, or never answered it. But the number showed up on my Caller ID, so I called it. It was after 5:00 by then, but the lady who runs the office happened to still be there. She told me it wasn't her that called, but gave me the cell phone number for the LDS Service Missionaries who I had talked to before.

Do you want the good news first, or the bad?

The good news is he was able to get a hold of Sandy, the lady who runs the Logan agency. She was thrilled that I was interested in re-establishing contact. Absolutely send a letter, she said. Send pictures, too, they told me. Just don't include any identifying information. Like a poster behind our family that says, "My name is Nan Barton, and this is my address and phone number." That's not me talking. Brother Welker, the service missionary is the one who joked about that. Something like that would never have occured to me. I wasn't even allowed to send them pictures before, so that would be HUGE.

The bad news? Well, it is potentially pretty bad. The truth is whatever I send I am, more likely than not, going to get back. The family no longer resides at the address where they lived during and after placement. The Logan agency did not know if the family had stayed in contact with their agency or left a forwarding address. I think it is highly unlikely. The more I think back on it, I just don't think they were the type to participate in an FSA (Families Supporting Adoption) group, or to be active in any outreach programs where they would interact with the agency because of work promoting adoption. And back then, families were only allowed to adopt 2 children through the agency, and she was their second.

I guess all we can do now is pray that something (or someone) will touch that family so that they would know to contact the agency. Sometimes the Lord works in mysterious ways. Maybe something will happen, and this letter really will go through. Wish me luck, and even better, pray for me. Thanks, you guys.

An offer of service from LDS Family Services

The office was closed when we pulled up. It was close to 8:00 a.m., and I had no idea what their office hours were, or whether the agency was even still in operation. The real reason I was down there was to use to LDS Cannery there in Farmington, which happens to be right next to the LDS Family Services office. That office I have been to a few different times in my role with Families Supporting Adoption as a birthparent advocate. But not in several years.

My friends and I walked into the cannery, and proceeded to can dried carrots for the ladies in our ward. We were quickly done, and walked out a little after 10:00 a.m. While the boxes and cans were being loaded into the truck, I wandered down the sidewalk and peered into the office. There was a beep and the locked door opened. Of course, then I felt obligated to enter.

I walked to the lady behind the counter, offering my hand. She shook it. "I'm Nan Barton," I told her, "I am a birth mom." The funny thing is, it wasn't that long ago when this introduction happened, I would have said, "I was a birth mom." Now, I am aware of the fact that this will always be true. I went on to tell her that I had worked as a birthparent advocate with the agency before, and I occasionally receive newsletters from the Albuquerque office, but I hadn't had any contact with the Farmington office for years, and I was wondering if they still had an FSA group, or any other outreach programs they were sponsoring right now.

I am sorry. I can't remember her name, but she was immediately apologetic. The man who had run the office for years had been sick for much of the time he was in charge, and so the work of the office declined. Then the lady who took over from him never quite figured out what she was doing and has since moved on. This poor woman who had greeted me behind the counter also seemed a little overwhelmed, but she said she was eager to get everything whipped back into shape.

So I asked her if there was anything I could do for them.

Well, she just brightened up then. She told me I should meet with the Church Service missionaries in the next room.

Now, I felt a little anxious, because I don't think my friends had seen me slip away, and therefore, they had no idea where I was during this brief exchange. But I truly did want to be of help somehow to the agency in their efforts to promote adoption. So I walked in, was introduced, and sat when they invited me to.

Within moments, I was sharing a bit about my story. And as they acknowledged that adoptions were more closed when I placed, they asked if I still had any contact with the adoptive family. Unexpectedly, I started to tear up as I explained that the last time I tried to send a letter, the agency in Logan shut me down, telling me they wouldn't even have the adoption records on file there.

Well now, that smiling elderly gentlemen sat right up and said, "Logan! I worked at the Logan agency. I just retired from there a couple years ago. I know the lady in charge there now. I will call her and get it set up. You just write that family a letter and send it here, and we will make sure it gets forwarded on."

Did you catch that? I went in to see what I could do to help, and immediately they offered to help me. Wow. I had essentially given up on having any contact with the family until the time (which may or may not come) when she decides she wants to meet me. And I was okay with that. But now, we could correspond again, maybe. Wow.

And I came away with a bunch of pamphlets and cards and video, so I can do my part to spread the message about adoption and the services offered by the Church through LDS Family Services. Yay! This is my little way of doing my part to save the world.

And I guess now I should get busy composing that letter. . .

My heart hurts

When Garrett was little, and Cole a babe, my little family of just me and the boys, we lived in a trailer across the street from Boyd and Ramona Bradford and their big dog who could knock you over just by wagging his tail. My boys loved to play with Grandpa Boyd, who happened to be their cousins' Bradley and Carson's grandpa. And even if he wasn't their grandpa, we would have adopted him as our own. He was a fun guy, and Ramona was so generous. We had good times in their yard, playing with their rambunctious dog. And Garrett loved to play with Boyd's toys. We were lucky to have him in our lives.

But Ramona got sick. And then she got better. But then she got sick again. And it was so sad. And we were so worried about her when we realized the cancer was terminal.

Then Boyd disappeared.

I ignorantly did not realize what that meant.

Months later, I knew. The news was devastating, heart breaking, tragic.

And I was angry. I saw the pain this caused for his family, some of which were my family. I saw my nephews' Grandma Monie suffer. I was mad at Boyd, whom we had loved, whom we did love. I tried to explain to my boys, but they were too young to understand. My husband tried to explain to me, and I was too angry that he (my husband) thought he could understand. That scared me. I didn't want him to understand, to try to relate. That was wrong, what he (Boyd) did was wrong; it was selfish.

So, the news today brought me back to that. I still can't understand, these new circumstances. This man who delivered thousands of healthy babies, who cared for thousands of patients. I personally didn't like him all that much, but he was friends with my parents. He delivered most of my brothers and sisters. He committed a crime. He was charged with it. And then he committed this other crime, to himself, so much worse. Why???

Who do I get to be angry at now? Who do I blame? I am not happy about the way the Federal government handled this, and people are supposed to be considered innocent until proven otherwise. But the media has already convicted everyone named in this case, especially the Redds. It just makes me sick to read some of the comments some people are leaving on these news sites. Not to mention the way the news sites are portraying the story in the first place!

So, yes, I am angry with them.

But mostly I am terribly sad. And I pray for his family. And I pray for all who have been targeted by this raid. I do believe people should be held accountable for breaking the law, if they have, but I cannot help but see this whole thing as such a tremendous tragedy.

I know that some of you don't know what I am talking about, so I will refer you to a couple newspaper articles, but by all means, do not take these stories as pure fact. There is more to the story. Hopefully, some day we will know:

Deseret News article

Salt Lake Tribune article

I am going to be a guest blogger on mrs. r's blog

Remember mrs r? Remember how I told you how super awesome she is. Well, she told me she thinks I am kind of awesome, too, and she wanted to feature me as a guest blogger on her blog. What an honor that will be. But I am not going to be around today, to see if it happens today, and to welcome any guests here that come here from her site.

Cub scout day camp duties take me up on the mountain this morning.

But if you are a visitor and love adoption like I do, you are welcome to click on the post label for adoption to read a little more about my adoption story.

If you just want to read some random posts by me, I recommend this one.

And maybe this one.

This one, too, if you want to hear me rant a bit.

And I would recommend you check out the Women Who Inspire Me button on my sidebar, if you want.

Welcome, visitors.

I still love, love, LOVE mrs. r!

Being a birth mom

One of the hardest days of my life was not the day I signed the paperwork relinquishing my right to parent. It was not the time I walked out of the hospital without anything in my arms. The hardest time for me came a couple days later when I was left completely alone at home, with no friends or family around me, without that little life who felt so connected to me during those nine months. That was hard.

I know my family didn't mean to abandon me. I probably wasn't really easy to be around, just so sad and gloomy. I don't know. But that time, feeling completely alone was devastating.

Becoming a birth mom was obviously not one of those goals I set for myself growing up. It was certainly not something I aspired to. I had been raised with a clear understanding that intimate relations with someone before you are married is not just frowned upon by the Lord, it is absolutely wrong. This I do believe. That act is a sin, just as murder is a sin, a very serious sin. Because it is about the precious God-given gift of life, and it was not right for me as a young person to be toying with the act of creation. In today's society, nobody seems to see it that way. Especially with abortion being considered a reasonable option. Nobody takes accountability for this very serious act.

That was never an option in my mind. I am glad I had the sense at least to know that. And I am grateful that I could go to a caring bishop and begin the repentance process. I am grateful I could make the changes necessary to strengthen my testimony and become a better person. I am thankful that I could make the decision to place the unborn child within me for adoption. And glad that I found the agency of LDS Family Services to help me through this process.

While I lived in Logan during this time, I was able to attend a support group full of other young women, who had either placed previously, chosen to parent, or were considering placing their babies for adoption. This was a huge blessing for me. Being able to talk to others who really knew what I was going through was very healing for me.

But that day after I left the hospital, when no one was there in that apartment with me, it felt like my world was falling apart. I didn't know how to tell me brother to please not leave me alone. I didn't know how to call one of my friends and say, "I can't take this, please help me." I wish I had. I wish I would have reached out. It was a very lonely time.

Still, I survived. And I learned to find a way to reach out for the help I needed. Soon after, I moved back home, away from Logan, away from the birth parent support group. This was also hard. But I learned that as I found friends willing to listen to my story, eager to offer support, this helped me to heal. I wasn't welcomed by everyone when I tried to share my testimony of adoption and my own experience, but I was able to find those who would share in my grief and joy.

As part of a FSA (Families Supporting Adoption) chapter, I have shared my experience with adoptive parents, a chance for them maybe to get a glimpse of what their birth mothers might be like. I have shared my story in adult meetings, where we encourage people to learn about LDS Family Services and the services the Church offers for unwed mothers. I love encouraging people to be open-minded about adoption.

I have had friends who had a hard time with this presentation, because as adoptive parents, they felt like they were saying, "Give us your babies." For me, my message was a little different. I want to give them hope. I want them to see that there are more options available, and choosing adoption can be a huge blessing in a young woman's life.

It was for me.

Remember this post? And this one? Still true. I heart adoption. And I heart birth moms. Send one some love tomorrow. (even if it just in your prayers). Lets make sure no birth mom ever has to feel alone. I added the Birth Mom Missions site over there under my Advocating Adoption section, because they have a group for providing support to other birthmoms. Check it out, if you want. Birth moms are heroes. (Can I say that?) I just want to send lots of positive vibes out there for all these amazing women. Here is a link to some other ways you can do that>

I just wanted to share

A little bit about the blog hopping I have been doing the last couple of days:

First of all, I told you all that my brother-in-law Jesse took state in wrestling this weekend.  Lots of our family was there (but you all know I wasn't).  My darling (she really is, absolutely adorable, just like her kids and her husband) sister-in-law, Alisa was there, and she just posted a video of his winning wrestling match.  You should check it out here.

I recently read some lovely blog entries by a lovely young woman who recently placed her baby girl with a super-cute, and super-lucky adoptive couple.  She posted in four parts her personal adoption experience, complete with texting back and forth with the adoptive family she chose for her baby.  Except for the texting, a lot of her experience feels very familiar to me, very much like my own experience.  Another testimony to me of how our Heavenly Father truly does know each one of us.  I will not link to each of her posts.  Go to her blog, and navigate backwards from there.  Try to scroll down and start at part 1.  She even links to the adoptive family's blog, and you can go check them out, too.  I recommend reading about all of them, because I personally think it is a beautiful story.

And have you ever followed the link to Cafe Johnsonia on Eryka's blog?  If you like to bake, you should totally check her out.  She is always posting all kinds of yummy things, and I like the way she writes, even if it is all about food.  Yeah, I have yet to try a recipe, but knowing that someday I might is kind of fun.

Well, from there, I linked to the article about her blog and Utah's other great food blogs.  From that site, I read an article about the dangers of Paxil.  Then, I got a little fired up, because it was obviously the author's opinion that people with depression, bipolar disorder and other mental conditions don't really need medication, and that it is usually treatable with therapy.  This really bothers me, because I have friends who I have watched struggle with a medical condition which caused them to suffer from depression.  The sadness/fatigue they were experiencing had very little to do with what was going on around them.  They couldn't just try to cope with their grief, because their grief was clearly caused by a chemical imbalance which needed medication to bring back to normal.  Because they felt awful, they sought reasons to explain why they were sad, when in fact, their body was malfunctioning and making them sad.  It becomes a terrible cycle, and one of the worst things you can tell a depressed person is to just get over it.  I wish it were that simple.  I do believe that some medications don't work the same way for some as they do for others.  And I do believe there are rare cases of terrible adverse side effects.  I would hope anyone taking this kind of medication would be in the care of a doctor who was aware of any problems resulting from the medication.  I also know medication doesn't work for everyone (like me).  Exercise was the thing that made the greatest difference for me after Olivia was born.  My problem with the article is the fact that some people do need medication to get control over their emotions, and there is nothing wrong with that.  If simple therapy alone works for you, that is great!  But in many cases, it is not enough.  Recognize that, please.

Shut up already.  I could go on about what a difference medication makes for my child with Asperger's and the one with ADHD, but I won't.  And the people who don't think Autism is real?  You know what?  That would take up at least another three posts.  Not going to go there.  Thanks for reading.

Another woman I admire: Mrs. R

Any of you out there do any blog stalking? Admit it, you know you do. Once in a while, you stumble across some random blog and you bookmark it, because you love the way the person writes, or the photography on the site, or the cool links they have on the sidebar. Whatever the reason, I am sure this has happened to some of you.

Yes, I am a blog stalker. That is how I found Mrs. R at the R House. Her real name is Lindsey Redfern and she is awesome. Way awesome. I love reading her blog. I love how she writes. I love how she advocates for adoption, a subject very close to my heart, and clearly dear to hers. I love learning more about her generous personality. I love being able to pray for the trials she is going through in her life right now. Don't love that she has trials, but I am grateful I am able to keep her dear family in my prayers.

One of my favorite things about Mrs. R is that she will often highlight other bloggers or friends and their stories dealing with adoption. She is very positive and very passionate, but also completely honest about the many difficulties (on all sides) involved in adoption.

I love, love, love Mrs. R.

Here is a video she shared recently that I also think is great:



Hey, you, even if you don't have time right now, please go check out her site. She welcomes blog stalkers, as long as you promise to be friendly.